#hanniballecterviii

[watchthelightfade]

hanniballecterviii replied to your post: where are all these followers coming from omg hi...

the hannibal draws everyones attention

i don't even make popular posts in the hannibal tag though hell, i don't even make posts in the hannibal tag GENERALLY

[rex-armstrong]

Anything but Oedipal: Hannibal | Rex

The woman at the center for the blind referred him to a list of therapists he could try. A few sounded to be less than helpful, but he settled on one he like. His track record was outstanding. Perhaps this man could get him out of this horrible funk that losing his sight had gotten him into. Even his mother couldn't believe how changeable his moods were. He didn't like his own behavior, but he didn't know where to start to change it. Between trying to finish his senior year in high school, to learning new life skills, Rex was overdue for a little therapy. 

He waited in the lobby for a while, practicing a few sentences in Braille. The concept seemed to be going beyond him. He could read a few words, but anything longer than 5 or 6 characters was just overwhelming. He ruffled his emerald hair, his eyes angry as they looked at the raised dots. The sides of his vision had begun to darken a week ago, giving everything the impression that he was looking through a cardboard tube. It was worse in the morning. He growled, the pressure in his eyes beginning to spike. Letting the book hit the seat next to him with a rough " thwak!", he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and balanced his arms on his knees. 

"Doctor Lecter will see you know, young man." said the receptionist after a moment. Rex gathered up his things and moved towards the ajar office door.

[comicbook-killer]

Case Study || Hannibal & Max

Maxwell wasn't so sure he needed help. Honestly he didn't regret a thing. What he was worried about, was someone finding out that his father didn't just die for one reason or another, that it was by his own hand. His mother's catatonia was, well, an accident. That he did feel bad for. However he was more concerned over her opening her mouth and telling someone what she saw. As long as she stayed quiet it didn't really matter.

The young man seemed small. He was small to begin with, but his physicality was very drawn inward, a sketchbook clutched in his hands as if it was some sort of shield. He was out in the waiting room, eyes simply scanning over the various nick nacks as he awaited the seemingly superfluous appointment.

Would the counselor see right through him? Could he be that easy to read? Like he was a book. Something plucked up off the shelf with a full description written on the back for anyone to read without even having to delve into the pages? He certainly hoped not. He'd be committed  if not imprisoned.

Somehow the former seemed more appealing.