godforbid

What was she supposed to do? Molly thought it was be decent enough to just tell him, let him know to have some kind of closure that everything’s just fine. That his family lived on even if he had to rot in hotel rooms in mental purgatory.

“Will… We know how I feel and we know what we need to do,” Molly whispered softly, there’s a sense of defeat in her voice, she lost, game over.

"Goodbye, Molly."

Will hung up the phone.

-

The next time Will would come to would be inside a nice house that was entirely unfamiliar to him. He was in a bathroom, staring down a sink that had the water going and his face was soaking wet. Imminently his brain was shooting off trying to remember what the last thing he'd done was, try and remember where he was. The sink is turned off, letting the quiet deafen the room before he unlocked and exited. His breath was held, moving down the hall as quiet as all those years as a cop trained him to be. Danger could be behind the next corner ; he'd rather not be caught unaware.

How wrong he'd be. Familiar photos on the wall catch his attention and pause his step. He wasn't seeing things, surely he wasn't. Will moves closer to the framed photos, blinking several times to Will the images away if they were just his imagination torturing him. That's his wife ( or is it ex wife now? ), his son.

"Molly?"

-

Now, he’d been in the house like black mold spreading.

His calmness is what made her sweat run cold, his demeanor was too calm.

The boy was at a friend’s house, a sleep over to celebrate summer… This was the only reason she allowed Will inside, this is why her will to fight against his requests to come inside faltered so easily.

A silence as he spoke, reminded her that the man who wanted to tear her apart for being sweet to Will was never found dead. Technically, even with all the love in her heart she didn’t need Will to be around, didn’t need him in her life even if she missed him so much it felt like there was a hole in her chest.

“I never said to come back,” Molly speaks smoothly, honestly, “I love you enough to let you know about the baby but never once did I ask for you to come back…”

It’s true. This wasn’t a conversation about reunion, it was news she decided he needed to hear. Molly was doing him a favor out of love not opening a door to a family she had to protect.

"Do you expect me to .. what? Stay out of the picture? Do you think I can do ... whatever it is I'm doing out here and just .. do nothing?"

Is that what she wanted?

It wasn't illogical but that never once crossed his mind. Not with Margot when she told him he could be as 'involved' as he wanted to be and not now.

He thinks where everything might be in five years. What if he was still alive but somewhere out there was their son or daughter celebrating their fourth birthday, never meeting their biological father - or hell, calling someone else 'Dad', taking his last name.

He was too bloody to touch a normal family ; then why did this ache so badly?

" .. Whatever you want to do, Molly. You should trust your instincts more than I'd trust mine."

What was she supposed to do? Molly thought it was be decent enough to just tell him, let him know to have some kind of closure that everything’s just fine. That his family lived on even if he had to rot in hotel rooms in mental purgatory.

“Will… We know how I feel and we know what we need to do,” Molly whispered softly, there’s a sense of defeat in her voice, she lost, game over.

DO YOU LOOK LIKE ME? // DO YOU BURN LIKE ME?

Hi! I'm Sarge, and this is my low-effort text promo for Dents' blog. 21+ only, no exceptions. OC, multi, and crossover friendly. All info's in my pinned post.

❊ I want to roleplay with you

✸ I want to plot with you

✤ I want to ship with you

✥ I have roleplayed with you and it was great

❦ I sort of secretly ship a thing with your muse(s)

✷ I wish our characters was friends

✢ I like your characters

✱ I don’t like your characters

✣ I like the way you express your muse(s)

✫ I don’t like the way you express your muse(s)

☬ I feel like your characters are underdeveloped

❂ I don’t agree on all your headcanons

✡ I agree on all your headcanons

❋ Your blog is one of my favs

✦ I like seeing you on my dash

✵ I don’t follow you for roleplay

✧ I wish you would notice me

✩ You intimidate me

✪ You seem like a cool person

✺ You’re hard to approach

✻ I wish you weren’t so shy

❄ I look up to you

❆ I love your art

❇ I love the way you write

* I want to learn to know you

# I’m too shy to approach to you

☓ We should talk!

‘Grow up.’

As if the idea of another child be it that bastard’s bastard or otherwise was a naive notion, like she wasn’t thinking like a grown woman who had to separate because she barely survive the outburst of…that man.

In the midst of anger and swallowed bitter sobs she’s struck where she stood. Did she do it on purpose?

The logic of why he would ask that question but the fact that he asked her still made her trip up. It made her mind run with a lot more questions, did he think she would act so maliciously to get him back home, did he lose all hope in her that she would he nasty just like the others that dug deep into him.

It was as if Hannibal saw into Will's life despite never having been there for it, locked away far from him. Whatever happened was going to happen; they weren't trying but they weren't not trying either. Just mere months ago this would've been a blessing. He never once considered Wally not his son ; a biological baby wouldn't change that, only would it make their family grow.

Will doesn't realize how horrible it was to ask her until it was already out of his mouth, until it was already answered. He couldn't be sorry he asked - he needed to hear it, needed that reassurance this wasn't some horrible nightmare that he's just reliving one of countless horrors. Maybe this was a dream. A hallucination. Maybe he's sleeping and he's not even on the phone at all. Will stands up without saying anything, walking over to the kitchen sink and spashed water in his face before slapping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

He was still in the hotel room. Molly was still on the phone. His brain wasn't just reconstructing Margot and Mason.

If his baby was going to live, he was going to have to kill Hannibal.

"Okay. Okay okay, okay." He hasn't made contact with Hannibal yet though he knows they're searching for one another. "You know his body was never found. If I come back .. I can't promise everything's going to be okay. Not until I deal with him."

A silence as he spoke, reminded her that the man who wanted to tear her apart for being sweet to Will was never found dead. Technically, even with all the love in her heart she didn’t need Will to be around, didn’t need him in her life even if she missed him so much it felt like there was a hole in her chest.

“I never said to come back,” Molly speaks smoothly, honestly, “I love you enough to let you know about the baby but never once did I ask for you to come back…”

It’s true. This wasn’t a conversation about reunion, it was news she decided he needed to hear. Molly was doing him a favor out of love not opening a door to a family she had to protect.

They weren’t supposed to be speaking. The silly little night between the sheets was ego and need, she didn’t think it would grow anything, literal or otherwise. It was some kind of greed, the deep seeded yearning to have her husband, to have him connected to her in every way imaginable even if it felt like challenging Satan himself.

“Well… I-I’m keeping it,” She whispered, “I think it would be sweet for Wally to have someone to grow up with, there wasn’t anything wrong with what we did that night,”

     A child was supposed to make mothers and fathers feel joy. Excitement. Anticipation. Why did each time a child was introduced to his life it filled him with dread? He wanted to be a good father - he was a good father, while he could afford to be one to Wally. Mason Verger may have destroyed his child before they even had the chance to be born but it was Hannibal that put that in motion. It was Hannibal that wound him up knowing exactly which way he'd go - and go he went.

     A child threatened Hannibal's hold on Will. If this information ever got in his crosshairs, Will would have another child without a name or grave - and a wife to bury along with them. That's exactly what he would do if he were him. That chain was so tight around his neck ; it wasn't allowed to slip three years ago and it wouldn't be allowed to slip now, it wouldn't.

     Sweat started seeping through his shirt as thick as blood.

     "'Grow up'." He would have laughed, that bitter laugh of his, if he wasn't so terrified. Wally almost didn't get to grow up. That was no one's fault but Will's own - at least, it felt like the responsibly of the hit on his family rested entirely with him.

     He goes quiet for a second, distracted from whatever it was he was going to lead with before, " .. did you do this on purpose?"

     His tone begs her to tell him no and for that to be the truth.

‘Grow up.’

As if the idea of another child be it that bastard’s bastard or otherwise was a naive notion, like she wasn’t thinking like a grown woman who had to separate because she barely survive the outburst of…that man.

In the midst of anger and swallowed bitter sobs she’s struck where she stood. Did she do it on purpose?

The logic of why he would ask that question but the fact that he asked her still made her trip up. It made her mind run with a lot more questions, did he think she would act so maliciously to get him back home, did he lose all hope in her that she would he nasty just like the others that dug deep into him.

do you remember what i told you last time?

have you been doing well since i saw you?

that's not what you told me back then.

when was the last time i saw you?

you were shorter then.

i'm picking the restaurant this time.

we've known each other since we were children.

always knew i could count on you.

that time was different. this is worse.

you're not going to let me live that down, are you?

i seem to remember a conversation we had back then.

so you changed your mind about it?

do you remember our encounter in paris?

you should know me by now.

am i the only one that knows the truth?

we had a lot of help back then.

your mom told me to look out for you.

you just love bringing that back up to annoy me.

maybe don't mention my past indescretions?

this was never going to work out between us.

i told you not to get attached.

i know more about you than you think.

i was there, remember?

i'm not about to forget all the shit you put me through.

you told me you were going to try and make this work.

remember what i said to you?

the last time i saw you, things were good between us.

you never mentioned this before.

that was the longest flight of my life, and you made it worse.

can i still trust you after all that?

at least we tried to make something work.

we never discussed what happened between us.

okay, but i'm driving the car this time.

i haven't forgotten what you said last week.

i'm still thinking about your comment.

i didn't realize it was you when i first saw you.

you seem to make a lot of enemies around here.

there's not much for us to talk about.

we worked it out last time.

i know you far better than you know yourself.

we have a long history.

is that the shirt you were wearing last time?

what don't i know about you?

i haven't told them about us.

you were the only person i could go to.

you know me.

this is bigger than both of us.

i can't stand your driving.

are you taking me to the place we had dinner last time?

that's not at all what you said.

didn't we agree on that?

i thought i made it very clear where i stand.

are these the same people that came after you last time?

are you still going on about it?

can we talk about it?

staying silent about it won't help.

you're the only person who knows the real me.

send “soulmate” + a number for a soulmate au starter! or alternatively just send “soulmate” for a randomly generated one.

one. everyone only sees in black and white until they first set eyes on their soulmate, when the world explodes into color.

two. everyone has a timer on their wrist, counting down until the exact moment they meet their soulmate.

three. everyone is born with a ‘tattoo’ of the first thing their soulmate will say to them. 

four. soulmates can feel each other’s pain.

five. any scars that your soulmate has, appear as flower ‘tattoos’ on your own body. 

six. soulmates can feel each other’s emotions.

seven. soulmates are continuously reincarnated, and remember their past lives when they see each other.

eight. soulmates have a compass on their wrist constantly pointing the towards their soulmate.

nine. everyone has a mark on their bodies where their soulmate will first touch them. 

ten. when someone writes on their skin with ink, it appears on their soulmate’s skin too.

eleven. everyone is born with their soulmate’s name written on them. 

She would never admit it but he had the perfect build for one of those little baseball uniforms…

“We’re losing anyway,” She remarked, ankles crossed as a soft smirk crawled across her face, “C’mon lover boy, don’t be like that…”

      "I'm not being like anything." His pitch was high. Sarcastic. Biting, even. Defiance just to be defiant. The last of the meat was chopped up and placed in the fridge ( he really shouldn't be wielding knives when under the influance ) and relutantly he makes his way to the living room. Her smirk is frowned at before his eyes wander over the boy passed out on the loveseat.

      "Should we leave him here or should I take him to bed?"

Molly looks at Wally in his uncomfortable position on the loveseat before nodding, “If you don’t he’ll wake up complaining that his neck hurts, poor boy was trying to make it to the end,”

A soft hiss of a shush leaves Molly’s lips, the boy was asleep tucked in tightly inside their perfect little house where their perfect little hounds could keep an eye on them. Which meant mommy and daddy were free to lay out on an old sheet with a bottle of wine Molly preferred. Pink, almost cutesy, a woman’s drink… But she was convincing enough to get her adoring husband to drink a glass or two.

Now, under the stars she had straddled his lap, his flannel lazily around her shoulders to cover that thin tank top.

“Scared?” She nuzzled into him with a grin, her nose against days old stubble, “I’ll be quiet, it’s just a little kissin’,”

      "Maybe it's not you I'm worried about.." He'd admitted under his breath. Molly could ring sounds out of him if she wanted and that angelic face of hers could have a devious smirk. His hands moved up her arms until they cupped her face and pulled her lips to his.

      "If Wally gets up, you're explaining." Even with the threat, his lips are curled up in a grin as he lays down entirely on his back. "How many times were we 'just kissing'?"

It was always just kissing, just cuddling, just wanting to lay down with him that got them in trouble. But they were outside and Wally was in his room fast asleep, they would be just fine even with Will’s loud mouth.

She sat up, hands resting on his chest as she felt his tense skin under her touch. She loved how he felt under her fingers, how he tensed and relaxed from anticipation from what she wanted.

“Oh, cowboy, it’s not my fault you got wandering hands,” She teased, gently massaging his sides.

❛ I can’t see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders. ❜ molly @g0dforb1d

      Molly Foster Graham wasn't taught in the ways of the psychological. There was no education and degree that'd slither under his borders ( or at least try to ). Yet Will knew there were times his body language screamed what was on his mind, or at least how he was feeling. In a perfect world he'd be a steal trap. Molly knew him on his shoulders alone. It was a blessing and curse to be known. With Molly it was more of a blessing - even as his jaw tightened in annoyance that she was right.

      Imminently his posture straightened, failing for it to at all look natural.

      "I'm not brooding," he protests. A lie. He was. Baseball was on. Will knew better than to interrupt the viewing in the next room and instead settled on feeling sorry for himself in the kitchen making the dogs food in the morning. "Is a commercial on or are my pensive shoulders distracting?

      Will felt many things about the dead. Jealousy was still something new. In another life Molly would still have her high school sweetheart. They could be married 50 years and he'd still never be him.

      "You're going to miss the game." His blooding continued.

She would never admit it but he had the perfect build for one of those little baseball uniforms…

“We’re losing anyway,” She remarked, ankles crossed as a soft smirk crawled across her face, “C’mon lover boy, don’t be like that…”

❛ I apologize. I apologize. I apologize. I was only tryna show you my love. ❜ from molly @g0dforb1d

     Will sat motionless in the motel room he'd sealed himself in for the last week. There was no home anymore, just temporary rooms. Security was too high around him to flee, to see out his violent companion that may or may not be dead ( and to finish what he'd failed to do upon that cliff ). The role of the pathetic and broken Will Graham had to be played, too traumatized to be used by the FBI to track down Hannibal the Cannibal.

     His shock was no act. Will and Molly had been swept away in their grief when visiting what was their home for the last time, dividing boxes and belongings. The Dragon tainted this home as much as he tainted Will. Even now he still had nightmares of killing her with his own hands, killing their son and jabbing shards of glass within their eyes. One last bittersweet memory was made.

     She was pregnant.

     Will rubbed his free hand across his mauled face, scars now decorating just as much as the rest of his body was covered and mauled. This changed everything - or it changed nothing. He didn't know. He stands up from the old recliner to the minifridge, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and drinking it straight for a few licks before speaking into the phone.

     "You're sure? No.. false positive?" It doesn't come to him to question if there was another man; he knew his wife. There was none. ".. What do you want to do here, Molly?"

"I bond with Abigail, you take her away. I bond with barely more than the idea of a child, you take it away. You saw to it that I alienated Alana, alienated Jack. You don't want me to have anything in my life that's not you." Hannibal doesn't deny it. "I'm your psychiatrist, Will. I only want what's best for you." "Please. Every moment of cogent thought under your psychiatric care is a personal victory."

They weren’t supposed to be speaking. The silly little night between the sheets was ego and need, she didn’t think it would grow anything, literal or otherwise. It was some kind of greed, the deep seeded yearning to have her husband, to have him connected to her in every way imaginable even if it felt like challenging Satan himself.

“Well… I-I’m keeping it,” She whispered, “I think it would be sweet for Wally to have someone to grow up with, there wasn’t anything wrong with what we did that night,”