#potentempath

'  you  shot  me,  graham.  so  no,  i  don't  quite  trust  you  yet.  '      sarcasm  and  distrust  mix  in  his  words,  glare  firm  on  will's  eyes.  a  bandage  wraps  around  his  torso,  tints  of  red  and  pink  splotted  about.  his  arm,  ever  since  arriving  at  the  strange  man's  house,  has  defensively  covered  his  abdomen.

see?      s  e  e  ?                                   ....

@potentempath​ asked: ❰❰ CRY ❱❱ — An extremely self-indulgent meme.

     The first tear fell. Then the second. Third. It had almost become commonplace for Will to crumble apart in his office in some way or another. Of all the hundreds he had watched pour out all their pain and frustration in that exact same chair, Will was the only one who had any effect on him. Crying was a human characteristic. Hannibal was unconcerned with the suffering of most humans. Will was human. ( So was he to an extent, but that was debatable. ) When Will shed tears, he did not feel the same complacency as with the others.      When Will cried, Hannibal felt ALIVE.      There was something beautiful about it. Knowing that Will Graham was shattering apart and leaving yet another piece of himself here; the closest physical representation of his memory palace; made his chest swell with pride. No matter how indirectly, Hannibal knew that he himself had played a part in this. He could watch Will unravel for hours. He could piece him back together as well. Re-shape him if he so desired.

“ at least he wants you. ”  it’s a horrible thing to say and harley knows it,  staring will right in the face as she makes herself no better than any of the others who release the frustrations of their mundane lives in the tattle-crime comments box.  she knows as well as @potentempath​ how much of this wasn’t a choice,  but she knows how much of it was,  and she knows how much suffering that choice/not-choice has brought into both of their lives. “ at least he kept you once he made you. can you imagine living in his world without him?  can you,  will?  who are you without hannibal?  do you even know? ”

and   in   he   walks;   the   air   changes.   the   smell   changes.   garret   looks   up   from   the   magazine   he's   reading   and   his   eyes   narrow   ―   nostrils   flare   as   he   inhales.   there's   that   scent   again.   the   same   one   that   reeks   of   overpriced   cologne   and   a   freshly   laundered   suit   among   other   lavish   things.

his   gaze   returns   to   the   page   he   was   looking   at,   overpopulated   with   words   and   images.

@potentempath​​ said: “  ‘ ‘ it was a mistake. ’  “

{♛ x emotional starters ||  accepting x}

"You sure about that?" Tommy's eyes shifted from the lifeless body laying on the floor up to the person towering above it, knife in hand. In his lifetime he'd seen a lot of things, and yes, some of them had indeed been mistakes. But there was no doubt in his mind that the scene in front of him was not one of them. There was too much anger, too much... rage. It was almost as if it was personal.

THE BODY IS MISSING A HEART. pale, glistening ribs sticking out of the mess of his chest like a shipwreck among coral, he lays open and hollow in the street in front of his workplace: is a bank a landmark of congregated prosperity, or a perfectly organized factory of evil? the missing piece has not gone far, though. the clock reads 3:25 AM, and a creature maryland was not prepared for carries a lump of flesh to the door of the building in one dangling arm. hair to the knees, an endless black sheet; a tailored vest, slacks, a sniper rifle slashed across her back; the rumors were half-right, but there is no grotesque wolf-creature to be seen here. only a person, tall and bloodstained with a heart in her hand... and an intruder on her hunt.