Ravenstag Rage

Grey/Crow || 30s || Hannigram Hell || 𝛼

[fanlore-wiki]

FanFiction.Net's NC-17 Purges: 2002 and 2012

[ID: The Fanfiction.net logo appears to be fading into the background menacingly. It is overlaid with the text 'The Fanfiction.Net NC-17 2002 & 2012 Purges', in which the words 'The Purges' stand out, referencing the famous horror film. The S is in brackets, reinforcing the link to the film title. /End ID]

In light of the recent worries about the erasure of fandom content on Twitter, today we’re looking back on two major events in fandom history: The FanFiction.Net NC-17 Purges.

The first one took place in 2002 when the site decided to ban all NC-17 (explicit) content. This led to many fan petitions and the creation of AdultFanFiction.Net. Then, in 2012, admins suddenly started deleting stories considered too mature to be on the site. Thousands of fanfics were deleted, causing a mass migration to AO3.

If you were on FanFiction.Net during those purges, we’d love to hear about your experiences of those events - and if you weren’t, you can learn all about them and the reactions they caused on Fanlore!

---

We value every contribution to our shared fandom history. If you’re new to editing Fanlore or wikis in general, visit our New Visitor Portal to get started or ask us questions here!

[rthstewart]

Good times, not.  I do remember at least one story with a co-author where we changed the rating to avoid the 2002 purge.  It was I think one of the first couple hundred Star Wars on the site -- ff.net was live in October 1998 and we posted right after The Phantom Menace in May 1999. 

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Every summer I forget how much I fucking love spiders I’ve drunk one every day this week

[goblinwithblankets]

Drinking spiders??!

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

You put ice cream in a glass and pour soft drink over it. It creates a thick layer of delicious foam on top of a sweet, creamy drink with ice cream in it.

And yes I did attempt to get a picture by googling “Australia spider” like a fucking moron.

[thecybird-deactivated20250228]

I think that’s called a float in the states. Although we usually plop the icecream into the glass after the soda. Similar effect though.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

We wouldn’t be able to call it that because the word is way too easy to confuse with a floater, which is a meat pie floating in a bowl of pea soup. It is every bit as delicious as a spider though. I should get some pies and pea soup.

[kitstacean]

I would like to announce that this is not a standard Australian food, it’s exclusively a South Australian one and the rest of Australia is just as appalled as the rest of the world.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

It’s not our fault that the rest of Australia is incorrect about food.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

#WE HAVE SPIDERS IN AOTEAROA and they serve CUNT#im gonna steal ice cream from work this weekend and make spiders with it. i will steal the fizzy from work also#i fucking hate my boss 

Living your best life I see

[blatantescapism]

“average person eats 3 spiders a year" factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in South Australia and BADLY misinterpreted our survey question,,

[paper-mario-wiki]

scrolling twitter today and then coming over here is like walking out of a burning building and then walking into the calm remains of a building that burnt down 5 years ago and has been reclaimed by nature.

[lyrebright]

so! you want to rip a fic from fanfiction dot net?

I’m sure at this point we’ve all seen the posts about FFN’s inevitable demise. Not to downplay how much that would suck, for all we riff on FFN–but people have been saying that for literal years at this point, and while I do not doubt that FFN is dying, it’s probably not going to up and vanish on us in the next week. It’s got some good time of chugging and wheezing along left yet.

But among the panic there are people asking sincere questions about what can be done to save fics from FFN in the case of the site going down and taking literal decades of fandom history with it, and I’m seeing a surprising amount of people saying that the only way to do it is to either screenshot the fics or type them out yourself because copy/paste does not work on FFN. And that is just blatantly not true. There are many ways in which you can save fics from FFN. Here are just a few:

You can copy/paste directly from the mobile site. This is probably one of the easiest methods for anyone to do. Just click on the URL of the chapter you’re reading, and change the www. to m. Hit enter and the page will reload in mobile mode. You can now copy/paste the chapter right into a word document. You will have to go chapter by chapter.

CTRL+S. Go to the fic you want to save, and hit ctrl+s. Save the damn webpage. This will keep it in the exact format of the webpage, which you could see as a pro or a con, but it will also keep the ads, which does suck. You’ll also have to go chapter by chapter with this method but it does go a lot faster than manually copy/pasting the text.

HTML to PDF. This method I’m admittedly a little less sure about, since when I used it it was like, 2013 and I was in highschool so I’m not sure how viable it still is, but–just a quick google search should find you a website that will let you save a webpage as a PDF file. I have folders and folders of fics I saved back in highschool using this method. It will again have to go chapter by chapter and just like saving the webpage will keep the format of the site intact–down to keeping the ads.

Use a fanfiction downloader. Two I’ve been using for years are FF2eBook and FicHub. You put in the link of the fic you want to download and it converts the entire thing into a file for you. Yes, the entire thing–you don’t need to manually go through chapter by chapter. By default, both sites download in epub format, though FicHub does have a few other options. I’ve never really experimented with them though because I’m personally fine with epub, and there are a million epub to pdf (or other file type) converters out there.

And there you go: a handful of ways for you to save your favourite fics before FFN goes under. Again, I don’t think it’s something to be too worried about, but the best time to do your part for fandom preservation was yesterday. The second best time is to get started right now. There is no reason to wait for FFN to be on its death bed to start saving fics. I’ve been doing this for years just so I have fics to read offline. 

I’m a little too young to have been around for livejournal, but I was one of those weirdos that posted their first fics on quizilla. I remember when quizilla just…changed. And so much was lost. Looking back, almost none of what was posted on quizilla was actually good, but it was still something that someone put time and effort and passion into creating, and it was important.

There is almost no way that when FFN inevitably goes down that its entire archive will be saved. But we can do our best to save as much as we can. Stop panicking and start saving.

[greywalkercrow]

In Silence

In Silence Hannigram Vampires AU, "Will can finally focus on his own emotions because H is a psychopath" prompt by

@giveusS4already Usual trigger warns for Vampire AUs and Canon Compliant violence

He can hear the silence descend. It sounds like wings. Like the rush of the blood in his ears when he's alone at night. It's almost too much to handle at first, but then it sinks in, cloaks him in a blanket as still and dark as midnight as he finally manages to meet those eyes. Holds them with his own, steady, unwavering. Nothing to catch, nothing to hold onto, nothing to be distracted by-

He'd told him when they first met that eye contact was distracting. And it is… when there's anything there to BE distracted by. He can't hear the echoes of emotion. Can't find the thread to pluck from a tangle and follow to its inevitable ending. Can't pluck a single note from the cacophony to listen to… because there is no cacophony. Warm red-brown eyes look deep into his, before Hannibal turns his gaze back to the dying girl on the floor, a hint of fang peeking from behind his lips as he holds his hands firmly over Abigail's throat. Holding her together, while Will slides down next to him, panicking at all the implications of this discovery. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd noticed, surely? Somewhere in their talks, their conversations? Hadn't he?

But no. The purity of his emotions in those moments had come from within. Nothing to reflect. Nothing to mirror. It had been his own desire, leading him by the nose. His own thoughts, tasteless and tasty, running in circles in every conversation, every intimate moment between them.

It hits him like a ton of bricks. Sudden and inevitable. "You're the Ripper," he breathes, eyes blown wide. Hannibal's hands twitch, but he does not move. Moments before the EMTs breach the door, before the FBI will arrive.

"And what will you do about it, Will?" "… Why should I do anything?" He responds, settles next to Hannibal on the floor, watching Abigail's eyes slide shut, drift off. "If you were going to kill me, I'd be dead already," Will says softly, bravely. Certainty in his voice and the set of his shoulders. "Mhn. Not necessarily," Hannibal squeezes gently, blood running over his hands and Will follows the trickle; away from Abigail Hobb's face, away from her panic, and focuses instead on his pulseless wrists. "But you're right, even so. I do not want you dead, Will." Hannibal's gaze tracks the movement outside a moment before the door is kicked in and the swarm of activity carries Will away on the flood of emotions and thought.

He grasps uselessly at the anchor Hannibal now represents, and then succumbs to the cacophony like sinking under the waves of an angry, churning, Atlantic. Hannibal watches, removes his hands from Abigail's throat, rises, allows himself to be examined even as Will is examined. Explains everything in a cool, collected tone. Watches as Will slowly falls apart.

He could use this. Could build this into something beautiful. All he has to do… is look for the right leverage to push him over the edge.

[greywalkercrow]

In Silence 2 Hannigram vampire AU, original prompt by @giveusS4already "Will can finally focus on his own emotions because Hannibal is a psychopath" Canon typical violence, Will Graham is Anita Blake, for @gothiccharmschool

And so he turns inward, reflects on the day. Starts replacing those missing pieces underfoot into their frame. Looks for the big picture.

Hannibal is more than just a mild mannered, overly polite psychiatrist. More than just a former surgeon. More, even, than a hidden vampire. It makes sense, he supposes. Everyone had assumed that the Ripper was either a Were or a shifter of some sort. Ripper had to be strong, after all-

And somehow, Vampire hadn't even made top five supernaturals. Hell, Human Psychopath was number 3! How had he missed it? None of the victims had been drained, for one. That did a lot to hide his tracks. Who even knows how he'd managed to hide that odd, dusty, mausoleum and marble scent from the Weres on the force. Scent blockers? There hadn't been any cologne on the victims either, no natural scent save their own.

Will lay on the couch, outwardly at peace but his mind was in shambles. Following each part of the tangle back to its inevitable sticking point: he'd been blind. Will Graham hadn't been able to pick up anything from the Ripper save his own inner demons. And he hadn't noticed…why? Because Hannibal Lecter was a graceful, polite, obviously wealthy, devastatingly handsome-

Will blinked. When had he started thinking of Hannibal as…attractive?? He'd decried the copycat as "field kabuki" but had it been a copycat? and the tableaus he'd come across had been beautiful, in a grotesque kind of way. So much attention to detail, such emphasis on aesthetic and shades of meaning. Where most killers used rage and blunt trauma the Ripper painted delicate, purposeful, masterful strokes as if creating a painting. A mural. A sculpture.

Will swallowed. Hard. Uncomfortable; and not only for the too-firm, too-short couch beneath him either. Confronted with a truth he could no longer deny: Hannibal Lecter was the only mind in something close to 40 years he'd never been able to hear. And Will found him inescapably attractive.

"Well….fuck."

~*~ For @gothiccharmschool because she asked and because I love these two idiots a totally normal amount.

[greywalkercrow]

Feverdream

Feverdream, for @cultmenephila Consensual hurt/comfort, sweet sadism, possessive Hannibal knows best, established relationship, smutfic

It felt like waves. Sometimes he was over the tide that threatened, and sometimes he was down in the warm dark too tired and heavy to crawl towards the surface. If this was drowning, it was far less painful than he'd been led to believe it would be. "Will…? Will!" The sound of his name pulled him from the distant lights and dark depths towards… something familiar. Someone? Oh. There were arms around him, holding him down- no. Holding him UP. "Hannibal?" "It's alright, Will. You are safe. You are-" Will shook his head, petulant and whiny.

"I…don't REQUIRE your anchor, Dr Lecter," he slurred, leaning heavily against the chair that Hannibal gently tipped him into. "Don't you?" Hannibal said evenly, pressing the back of his hand to Will's forehead, and then his lips "You have a fever, Will." Another wave consumed him, and it felt like floating. The darkness rushed in, and he was drifting on endless tides until the feel of soft cold sheets met the bare skin of his back and he felt the bed dip as Hannibal slid in next to him. "-kissed me," Will muttered, unconscious of how his body immediately curled into the strong broad male beside him. "The lips are the most moderate part of the body, how else to get an accurate reading of your temperature?" He murmured back, drawing Will deeper into his arms. "Hush~ I told you, you are always welcome here, Will. Have been for such a long time-" Will nodded, nose buried against the hollow of Hannibal's throat. Inhaling his scent and reveling in the feel of heavy arms wrapped around him, grounding him and keeping him safe. "Do you remember what you told me the last time we spoke?" Hannibal asks softly, hands slowly roaming down Will's back, fingertips dragging lightly down his spine. Will shakes his head, tired and blissfuly unaware. "You told me you were mine," The words ghost across the shell of his ear, and his flesh breaks out in goosebumps. "Mmn…doesn' sound like me," He teases weakly, nudging Hannibal's shoulder.

"Tch, ridiculous boy~" Hannibal's teeth close gently on the lobe of his ear and tug lightly, before his cool lips brush Will's stubbled jaw, then lower- Will tosses his head on the snowy white pillow as Hannibal works magic with his hands, and tongue, and teeth until there are slow-blooming bruises marked across his skin. "Love notes, for you to read later," Hannibal whispers, smug, before lowering his head to the music of Will's soft cries for more.

[greywalkercrow]

Sleepy hurt/comfort for @Cultmenephila NBC Hannigram, established relationship, fluff.

Bzzt. Bzzt. The sound of his phone going off has Will reaching blindly in the dark before he's even awake.

"Mnh? What's wrong?" "Will. My apologies I did not mean to wake you. Only…our bed is cold without you here. And Winston misses you terribly." Will smiles blearily and rolls onto his back.

"I miss you too, Darlin," he drawls, a little raspy with sleep. "The case will be wrapped soon and I'll be back where I belong. I promise." Hannibals soft chuckle is drowned in the rustle of expensive sheets. "I will. Jack knows this is the last time." "He'd better. I will remain on the line until you fall asleep, mylimasis… rest. We will be here with you in the dark."

And so, Will curls back up, phone under his head on his pillow, and allows himself to drift. Hannibal will wake him if the nightmares return. He always does.

[greywalkercrow]

The Fall

ANGST, No Comfort. World is in color until your soulmate dies AU Hannigram, canon typical violence, betrayal, major character death.

He didn't notice it at first, so busy was he trying to staunch the bright red flow of blood coming from the new wound in Hannibal's chest. The waves were crashing around them and it was cold, SO cold, but his shaking hands were all that was standing between Hannibal and Death. He swore he felt the hot humid breath of the ravenstag against his neck as he looked up, grey-blue-green eyes brimming with unshed tears as Jack approached, smoking gun in hand.

"We… w-w-we were leaving. We were going to go somewhere, stay quiet, no one would ever hear from us again-" Jack's aim never wavered, unerringly pointed directly at Will's heart.

It was dark. That's why the color was fading, right? Because it was night. The deep blue of the sky was fading to black, seeping out of the waves around them. Was the surf around their knees whiter Greyer?

Panicking, Will looked down at Hannibal's face. So grey around the edges now, so pale- The hand grasping his own loosening slowly as the Ripper tried to open his eyes, see Will in the growing dark. "H-…Hannibal- Don't move, it's okay, I'm here. I'm here, I'm not leaving-"

"Come on Will. Don't let time make you a liar. You'll be leaving the Ripper right here for the coroner-" Jack's voice was cool, unruffled, and Will could feel the scream starting in his throat. He clutched at Hannibal, fingers turned to icy claws from the water rushing around them, dripping from his curling, matted, salt-streaked hair and skin. Dug them deep into the shirt now covered in slowly fading red, desperation in his crazed, wide eyes.

"No! No, I'm not. Not going anywhere, not leaving-" "Will-" The voice this time was Hannibal's. No longer velvet, soft, domineering the spaces in which it rang. This was the rasp of a death rattle lingering in the cold. "Mylimasis-" The endearment, for surely it had to be that, was softer than it should be and Will clung to it as a drowning man to a straw.

"I'm here-" Will couldn't tell if the salt on his cheeks were the tears that burned in his eyes, or the salt of the Atlantic. Hannibal's lips twitched in what might have been a smile, squeezing at Will's hand weakly as the world's color drained yet further. Will's attention arrested by the vivid swirl of red slowly fading to grey as it mixed with the ice-cold water "God… please? Don't go- Hannibal?" His voice sounds small in the stillness, the crunch of gravel under Jack's boots was the only sound in the night other than Will Graham's soft sobs as his world fades to black and white to the soft shushing swirl of the Atlantic around his knees.

[greywalkercrow]

Rings

Hannigram AU You stop aging at a certain age, until you meet your soulmate and grow old together. Canon typical violence, light angst with fluff.

For @RomanM_Writes @HANNIBRAT and @codeandfic as an apology for other terrible pains <3

Some strange golden glow keeps pulling him onwards, out of the dark and cold and into the next dawn. And the next dusk. Like a vampire, or some grave-crawling demon in a well tailored suit. He'd toyed with the idea for some time, of course. Parleying his obsession with the human body and how it fits together into some other field of study… or profession, in hopes of meeting a broader subsection of humanity and thereby find his fated lover- But for every time the calendar ticks over to another year, not a single new line etches his skin until he comes face to face with Will Graham.

He doesn't notice, not at first.

But then it starts taking longer to recover after a hunt. His joints begin to ache in the mornings. His wounds don't heal so instantly, and he has to start planning those hunts yet more carefully to avoid leaving evidence behind- And then he notices the crows feet and the smile lines creeping onto Will's youthful, handsome face. Will doesn't take it well at first. Too discomforted by the gap in ages, the wide span of years almost insurmountable despite their odd commonality. But eventually, when faced with the evidence of their shared slow slide towards silver-touched hair and the effect of the weather, he succumbs to Hannibal's slow, insistent wooing.

The merino scarf in burberry plaid. The perfectly tailored coat to replace the stained & dog-hair felted green thing he'd worn since he couldn't remember when. Beautifully tanned driving gloves to steal the chill from his hands. And finally, a ring.

Solid gold with a thin ridge of pale pale ivory… like bone. "One life, one flesh," Hannibal murmurs as he slips it onto Will's hand. "So you'll always have a part of me with you." Will casts about for anything as precious, anything as meaningful as the literal piece of Hannibal he's been given and comes up with his long-deceased father's wedding ring. A thin band of pure silver, beaten to hell by the world. He polishes it carefully, places it in a little velvet box, and presents it to his lover over dinner.

"I hope we'll be as lucky in love as my parents were, darlin," he blushes, and Hannibal raises his hand to his lips. Caressing, soft, warm. Safe. Home.

"With you by my side, how could I be anything but the luckiest soul in the world, Will?" Hannibal questions. More rhetoric than genuine. The sentiment warms him from the inside out, a match to the comfortable weight of Hannibal's ring on his hand.

[greywalkercrow]

Imprint

Imprint Hannigram, touch, soulmate AU Angsty but not painful. for the ever-wonderful

@abstractwtcolor

"You have trouble with eye contact-" He observed, sipping at the too-hot, acrid coffee with an inward grimace.

"Eyes are...distracting," the voice was cracked, almost he could see the lines of stress where the breaks would happen. Almost he could imagine the shattering fall-

"You see too much, don't see enough-" Will Graham. A twitchy, nervous little man. How often had Hannibal heard that description of the profiler? And yet, up close. Gods and angels, up close- "And, and it's hard to FOCUS, when you're thinking, um, oh those whites are REALLY WHITE- or, he must have hepatitis, or, ooh is that a burst vein?" Hannibal chuckled softly, his eyes warming as he listened, a smile teasing at his lips. "So. Yeah. I try to avoid eyes whenever possible."

"I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency, impressed and yet shocked at your associations. Appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love." Hannibal watched the dawning dread on Will's face as it twists into sudden wrath. "Who's profile are you working on? Who's profile is he working on?" Before Hannibal can find the words to defend himself he reaches out, clasps Will's hand.

"Forgive me. I find it hard to turn off. I am sorry for the intrusion." The touch burns, and Will's face twists as he shakes free.

"Don't psychoanalyze me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed," he rasps, and glares across the desk at Jack while rubbing his wrist in discomfort. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class on psychoanalyzing."

As he leaves, Hannibal only half-hears what Jack has to say. Staring instead at the warm red imprint of Will's hand wrapped around his.

[greywalkercrow]

The Shape of Sound

The Shape of Sound Auralism kink, Synesthesia, Hannigram, etc

There is a shape to the sounds he hears. Certain pitches feel sharp, spiky; others soft and round. There are razor edges to threats, a warm giving sensation to kindness. Rudeness is abrasive, like rubbing himself raw with sandpaper and grit. Grace is like velvet, soothing. Clean.

But when he begins speaking to Hannibal, it's like the world goes quiet.

The bright grating neons of sharp-pitched electronic humming go dim. The razor-sharp blades against his skin fall away. All of it replaced with the warm mahogany richness of a Lithuanian accent as comforting and soft as a bearskin rug before a fire and as calming as the low notes of cello and violin.

He finds it difficult to maintain the Doctor's gaze, losing himself in the sounds and experience of his presence instead. Often times he must drag himself back to the present, the rise and fall of threat-edge and double-meanings a ripple across his psyche that he must follow to its natural conclusion.

There is no cymbal-clash here. No too-high flute or irritating piccolo whistles. No ice-cold blues or vision-ruining yellows. Nothing like that can intrude here. Here, in the safety of the old world style study, there is only the kindness of dim light and the string symphony of Hannibal's Voice, leading him back to himself, and then out to sea.

"Where do you go, when we speak, Will?" The question rattles him, at first, before he blushes and looks away. Not quite wanting to explain himself, before it all comes out in haunting, hunted words and side-glance- "I've never heard a voice like yours. I want to break it into its barest pieces, and put it back together." He swallows, winces, considers his next words more carefully. "I want to analyze it, appreciate every curve and bend, every edge and every tangle. You're an orchestra unto yourself. A maestro without meaning to be. I… like the music we make together. It feels like safety. Home."

Hannibal's eyes burn at that, and Will turns his head. Gentle, featherlight pressure turns it back, before Hannibal's surgeonlike precision strokes lightly across his cheek. A caress as gentle as a whisper.

"I do not share your propensity for mixed wires or whatever science may say about the mind's associations between the senses. But Will, whatever comfort you may derive from my presence, I derive as much pleasure from yours. Tell me what you hear. It might be that I can translate it to music, and hear a portion of what it is you are able to sense." The hand retreats, but Will is quick to reach out, grab it back. Tangle their fingers together. "If you would permit the experiment?" Will looks down at their tangled fingers, squeezes gently. Then nods. Hannibal's answering smile is one of quiet, assured victory.

"Very well. Whenever you are ready, then."

~*~ When the music is complete, it is played at the Baltimore opera… and there is not a dry eye in the house.

[greywalkercrow]

In Silence

In Silence Hannigram Vampires AU, "Will can finally focus on his own emotions because H is a psychopath" prompt by

@giveusS4already Usual trigger warns for Vampire AUs and Canon Compliant violence

He can hear the silence descend. It sounds like wings. Like the rush of the blood in his ears when he's alone at night. It's almost too much to handle at first, but then it sinks in, cloaks him in a blanket as still and dark as midnight as he finally manages to meet those eyes. Holds them with his own, steady, unwavering. Nothing to catch, nothing to hold onto, nothing to be distracted by-

He'd told him when they first met that eye contact was distracting. And it is… when there's anything there to BE distracted by. He can't hear the echoes of emotion. Can't find the thread to pluck from a tangle and follow to its inevitable ending. Can't pluck a single note from the cacophony to listen to… because there is no cacophony. Warm red-brown eyes look deep into his, before Hannibal turns his gaze back to the dying girl on the floor, a hint of fang peeking from behind his lips as he holds his hands firmly over Abigail's throat. Holding her together, while Will slides down next to him, panicking at all the implications of this discovery. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd noticed, surely? Somewhere in their talks, their conversations? Hadn't he?

But no. The purity of his emotions in those moments had come from within. Nothing to reflect. Nothing to mirror. It had been his own desire, leading him by the nose. His own thoughts, tasteless and tasty, running in circles in every conversation, every intimate moment between them.

It hits him like a ton of bricks. Sudden and inevitable. "You're the Ripper," he breathes, eyes blown wide. Hannibal's hands twitch, but he does not move. Moments before the EMTs breach the door, before the FBI will arrive.

"And what will you do about it, Will?" "… Why should I do anything?" He responds, settles next to Hannibal on the floor, watching Abigail's eyes slide shut, drift off. "If you were going to kill me, I'd be dead already," Will says softly, bravely. Certainty in his voice and the set of his shoulders. "Mhn. Not necessarily," Hannibal squeezes gently, blood running over his hands and Will follows the trickle; away from Abigail Hobb's face, away from her panic, and focuses instead on his pulseless wrists. "But you're right, even so. I do not want you dead, Will." Hannibal's gaze tracks the movement outside a moment before the door is kicked in and the swarm of activity carries Will away on the flood of emotions and thought.

He grasps uselessly at the anchor Hannibal now represents, and then succumbs to the cacophony like sinking under the waves of an angry, churning, Atlantic. Hannibal watches, removes his hands from Abigail's throat, rises, allows himself to be examined even as Will is examined. Explains everything in a cool, collected tone. Watches as Will slowly falls apart.

He could use this. Could build this into something beautiful. All he has to do… is look for the right leverage to push him over the edge.

[greywalkercrow]

Yes, it really IS me

Same human behind the screen, just a different blog for all the random bullshit I used to post on the OTHER blue hellsite (derogatory)

You can find my main @house-of-crows here

My twitter was @ RavenStagRage

My Discord can be requested via PM

Still the same 30 raccoons in a trenchcoat you know and love~ Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.