Rowan
@HigherMagic
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31. She/Her. Writer, NSFW, RM/Proship. HigherMagic on AO3/Tumblr/Twitch. More info in pinned. -COMMISSIONS CLOSED WHILE I CATCH UP.-
Georgia
Joined February 2014
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Pinned Tweet
✨ New pinned tweet for various important things to pretend I'm organized ✨
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friends who are thinking of moving to tumblr and have never been there before, the only thing I beg is that you learn the environment there and don't treat it like twitter.
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“It won’t fit” nervous subby top vs “I’ll make it fit” power bottom.
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for instance, in terms of visibility: you can see someone's likes but they will not be thrust into your timeline ("dashboard"). reblogs are the ONLY way to share stuff you want others to see (aside from blaze but fuck blaze).
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you can literally let a post die. if you don't respond to it, no one will see it. shitty opinions don't have to get traction. replies to my knowledge don't get seen either. just reblogs. so you don't have to pass out blocklists etc. you can just never interact & no one sees it.
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ghost steadfastly refusing to scent anyone because he hates it, thinks he smells like rotting leaf litter, decaying bodies, he's always wearing blockers and shying away from casual scenting between the 141 even though he aches for the comfort and casual intimacy of pack bonding.
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with the exception of blaze which is much less intrusive than promoted tweets, you will never see a post from a person you don't follow. so curate your own experience (: tumblr won't betray you by showing you peripheral shit like twitter does (:
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consider 'ghoap forced to fuck under pain of torture/death' but joke's on the captors because they are 100% into that shit and it's kind of fun to pretend they're not into this as they fuck harder and louder than they've ever been allowed to without fear of being overheard.
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adding commentary vs tagging is...a grey area. I'll admit I prefer to ramble in tags because I find it less intrusive. analysis etc. is common to write in a reblog, it kind of depends. but adding 'Will Graham' to a qt = tagging it Will Graham when you reblog +
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ghost, who wouldn't wish what he went through on his worst enemy, becomes obsessed with making sure his team knows how to escape being buried alive.
he digs a hole six-feet deep, all neat edges and straight drops down. lays a coffin inside, makes sure it's comfortable.
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thinking about ghoap being giggly during sex/in general. ghost snorting and having to bury his face in soap's shoulder, shaking with laughter because the eye contact went a little too long and too intense and soap couldn't help pulling a face.
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please for the love of god don't just add shit that is obviously a tag in the post section it'll be 3 million miles long and provide nothing but sore thumbs to scroll past. if it's something you'd put in an AO3 tag, it's probably best left as a tumblr tag.
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back on my 50s housewife bullshit: omegaverse, murder husbands, anger issues/threatening behavior, freak4freak:
Soap who is the pinnacle omega housewife. He’s proud of himself for marrying a ‘good man’, doing much better than his parents,
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also, based on my experience, blocking actually works. hussah. it also prevents you getting anons if the person is still logged in on their account (I believe). It's been a while since I looked at asks but you can also limit who can DM you so that's pretty cool.
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Retired Ghoap where Ghost gets a fairly chill office job and makes decent conversation with everyone, but his coworkers have to play ‘dog or husband’ with his stories about ‘Johnny’ because no one can tell.
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Ghost, who makes it so impossible to capture him because he knows the second he's back in anything resembling a torture cell, the moment he can't get out of restraints or thinks he's been taken hostage, he knows he's going to lose it.
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When Soap was younger, he kept pressing down too hard and breaking his pencils. Whether he was scribbling notes or trying to doodle, he held his pencils at choking height, knuckles scrubbing against the paper, mashing the graphite as hard as he could until something snapped.
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ghost who doesn't actually know how to court/show interest properly so he just asks soap what he likes bc he wants to get it right, meanwhile soap thinks ghost is asking for advice bc he wants to court someone else and it's breaking his heart but he wants ghost to be happy.
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also, no one gives a shit about follower count. they're invisible. checking if someone is following you is tedious at best. being someone's mutual is not the be all end all. I'd advise you to let a follower-hungry mentality go, if you have one.
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anyway I'm on tumblr under the same name if you want to follow me, I don't post shit except fic links these days but hey at least links don't get suppressed by some bullshit algorithm over there (:
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also obligatory add-on that I haven't been 'active' on tumblr for a bit so things may have changed but best believe they know when you're a twitter transplant & don't know how the site ecology works & they will react with hostility to disturbances in the ecosystem. rightfully so.
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arranged marriage ghoap who only meet for the first time at the altar. ghost who falls in love at first sight and becomes obsessed with soap, wants to know everything about him, but for one reason or another he can't act on it or it gets misread.
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Soap's family warning him about the infamous 'cold feet'. Saying it was natural and that when the time came, they'd be there for him, remind him that he loves Ghost, that they'd see him down the aisle to marry the man that anyone with eyes can see Soap's arse over elbows for.
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Ghost's and Soap's relationship can be tracked by the progression of their hands.
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DOWNLOAD XKIT YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT IT MAKES EVERYTHING 1000% MORE USEFUL, USABLE, AND EFFECTIVE.
AND DON’T LEAVE YOURSELF DEFAULT IF YOU LOOK LIKE A BOT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED.
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Ghost's mother told him she loved him all the time. Kissing his bruised cheek, "I love you." Comforting him from nightmares filled with venomous snakes, "I love you." Holding him and feeding him painkillers and juice after he set his own broken arm; "You're so brave, I love you."
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and boost your shit as much as you want. there's no suppression there. go fucking ham. post about it every hour on the hour in your queue (the queue is awesome on tumblr as well, 10/10 better than twitter's scheduled shit). release your shame and cringe and have fun with it <3
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Ghost who knows he's in a video game. It's what allows him to lead so fearlessly through all the missions, to be that unshakeable guide during the Alone mission, right to the end. Sometimes the answers are different, he tells different jokes, or none at all.
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I think the only thing twitter has over tumblr, honestly, is that the tracked tags and search works way better on here than tumblr, but as long as you're following people you want to I don't see that as much of an issue personally bc discovery by word of mouth is better imo.
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Hugh: Eloquent and metaphorical answer about being seen and understood and seeing a peer.
Mads: I WANT TO BE NOTICED AND LOVED HANNIBAL WANTS WILL TO LOVE HIM AND SEE HIM THEY ARE IN LOVE.
#HannibalReunion
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Don't get me wrong, I completely understand and support the 'Ghost is the moon and Soap is the sun' comparisons and metaphors, but have we considered it the other way around:
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oh they do have a 'for you' section based on what you post which seems pretty on point honestly so yeah, for you + following seems fairly decent. then there are two ways to message people. it's pretty neat.
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I love it the other way too but just, the flavor of big dick top getting overwhelmed as the tiny dominant partner takes them all in and refuses to get off that giant dick while also telling them not to come, delicious.
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dry air and salt and bonfires, a field of mint after cold spring rain, tobacco leaves and au jus and so much warmth it makes him dizzy.
ghost doesn't like his scent. but it's easier to ignore when he smells like them.
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sorry I'm lowkey obsessed with Shadow 3-2 (the one in Las Almas who kept saying it wasn't right to turn on the 141 and that they were absolutely going to be murdered by Ghost and wouldn't even see him coming).
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imagining that thing where you're holding eye contact with a dog and they slowly get more excited and start wagging their tail, panting, making little chuffing noises - but it's puppy Soap whenever he makes eye contact with Ghost.
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the captors keep forcing them through this 'punishment', since they won't talk and both of them laughing about it whenever they get a moment alone.
I'm really in a freak4freak mood today lmao sorry.
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"there you are," soap will say, resting his forehead against ghost's, uncaring for the muck. "let's get you cleaned up, eh, Lt.?"
and ghost nods, smiling, and lets soap lead him back to the light.
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“Alright we’re getting nowhere. Simon, is Johnny your dog or your husband?”
Ghost, after a moment, bursting into hysterical laughter: “I’m sorry, I have to make a call.”
“…I still don’t know the answer.”
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Hannibal, when Will wants a hamburger: Will, please, think about the toll on your body -.
Will: Oh, so the hallucinogenic drugs you dosed me with were non-GMO? Part of a balanced diet? Abigail's ear, organic?
Hannibal:
Will: That's what I thought. I'm getting a McFlurry, too.
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until one day, between a downpour and 90% humidity, no time to shower or reapply his blockers, he's stuck with his team in the middle of a monsoon while they wait for the skies to clear for a helo, and he reeks of his own death-musk-woodrot scent.
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a predator and his mate vs a predator and his prey.
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miserably curled up in the corner as soap checks gaz's pupils for concussion, wrist against his jaw and strong fingers holding his head steady. watches price run a hand along gaz's shoulder and then soap's as he passes them by on the way to check the food situation here.
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idk man just 'I hold on too hard and shatter everything I touch' Soap vs. 'Every time you touch me I feel whole again' Ghost making me insane.
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ghost's adrenaline smells like old, clotting blood, in his opinion. a dissected pig's heart during biology, the dead, gagged feeling of too-big chunks of under-cooked steak in his throat. he swallows down the desire to vomit and tenses when their eyes linger a little too long.
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soap's knuckles against his as they walk the halls together, gaz's thigh radiating heat when they share the couch, price's firm hand squeezing his shoulder when they did their job well. little things, constant things, until his scent is woven right along in with the rest of them.
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"alright. say they are. is being right worth it, simon?"
he knows ghost doesn't have an answer to that, the prick. ghost exhales slowly, lets his shoulders relax, and ignores the burn behind his eyes when soap lets out a contented noise, nuzzling closer and breathing in deep.
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watches without looking as soap and gaz keep casting glances his way. he limped the last mile here, the dead sprint and bad visibility yanking his ankle and knee in uncomfortable directions enough that a severe sprain or a fracture isn't outside the realm of possibility.
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"sir, I -"
"stop," price says again, sharper this time. "you trust my judgement?"
no hesitation; "of course, sir."
he nods to the sergeants. "trust theirs?"
ghost sighs. huffs a weak laugh. "yeah. when they're not being idiots. above average."
"then trust them," price says.
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he doesn't start welcoming them close, but he stops flinching away or snarling when they get into his personal space. it's amazing, really, how many times soap and gaz and price always reach for him - as much as each other - and how much more often he's touched once he lets them.
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ghost is sick with guilt, knowing by how dry his mask is now they've been in the air for hours. it'll take so much laundry to get his scent off them, soap especially, and -.
"stop," price mutters, drawing his attention. "whatever's got that look in your eyes, stop it."
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✍️👀
Will Graham is 38 years old, unmated, childless, and lives in Wolf Trap, Virginia. He is a lecturer at the FBI Academy, specializing in abnormal and criminal psychology and forensics.
He is also, in a word, striking. That is the first thought Hannibal has when they meet.
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he tells them he's fine. they hear the unspoken 'don't touch me, stay away'. their concern for him settles like ash, sitting close enough to a bonfire it leaves its mark, coats arm hair and clogs pores and feels like the most gentle suffocation.
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he moves away when soap tries to sit too close to him, too aware of how, with as wet and filthy as their clothes are, the scent will linger and spread worse as it dries. but soap just keeps crowding him, herding him towards the back of the helo.
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they split meager rations, ghost eats with his mask pushed up the barest minimum, conscious of how much more he must reek with the base of his neck exposed. he takes first watch (and second watch) and sits outside until the rain lets up and price can finally get someone to them.
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"but they're wrong," ghost whispers, that sick-stuck-meat feeling in his throat again. he clenches his fists and tries not to focus on how warm soap is at his side, how nice the pressure of gaz's legs are on his sore ankle.
price considers this, and says,
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he tenses, weighing the merit of shoving them off him, waking them up and realizing how rotten with his scent they are, or if he should pretend to be asleep and wait for them to retreat without thinking he was any the wiser.
but price is awake and he's seen the whole thing.
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and then there's gaz and then there's price calling for liftoff and coming in behind them and they take the two seats just before the back so if ghost wants to move he'll have to basically climb over them, which is out of the question.
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so he settles and soon enough the sleepless nights, the retreat, the adrenaline catch up to him, and when he wakes up soap's head is on his shoulder and gaz's ankles are slotted against his like teeth in a zipper, both of them fast asleep.
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Hannibal: I have a jar where every time Will and I make love, I put $5 in. It will determine the budget for our Christmas presents this year.
Alana: And what is he getting?
Hannibal: At this rate? A yacht.
Alana: ...It's March.
Hannibal, dangerously dehydrated: Correct.
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ghost can cry on command and as he's panting 'sorry, sorry, I'm sorry Johnny' and forcing himself to cry soap figures out in that instant he has a new kink and is absolutely going to tell ghost about it once his orgasm fades and he can form words again.
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Soap grins. “Are you joking? Should put some of these women out in the field. You’d be facing down retirement by year’s end.”
Ghost bites him in answer, but Soap just laughs, and digs his nails into Ghost’s nape, teeth in his shoulder; a reminder of how sharp they still are.
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“Simon! How was your weekend?”
“Great actually. Went to the park with Johnny, let him get some energy out. He gets stir crazy cooped up indoors with how the weather’s been lately.”
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(cw mimicked assault, convincing language, dacryphilia)
picturing soap whining and telling ghost to stop, which prompts ghost to tell him to shut the fuck up because he's two seconds away from coming just from the little gleam in soap's eyes when he turns his head.
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AU: Bev and Will in a bar, Will frantically telling her in French how hot the guy sitting next to them is while Bev encourages Will to ask him out. She goes to the bathroom & in her absence, from his seat, Hannibal, in perfect French, says ‘I’m free tomorrow night. Dinner?’
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When they go to sign the marriage license and get a moment alone, Ghost asks him how he's feeling. Soap just says, "This is the happiest day of my life."
"No doubts?"
"Not even for a second."
And Ghost just smiles, kisses him hard, for the longest time, and says, "Me neither."
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Kinda weird how the ‘writing=endorsing’ thing is so much more intense around sex. I doubt anyone thinks I’ve murdered and displayed a body because someone was rude to me at the pharmacy. But write one greycon fic and suddenly you’re a rape apologist.
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“Simon, what’s Johnny’s favorite food?”
“Oh he’ll eat just about anything if I’m not watching. Been on a peanut butter kick lately though. He’ll eat it right out of the jar, the savage.”
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grabbing each other a little too hard just because they can, being too loud and pretending it's painful or humiliating or just the *worst* form of torture as soap starts coming dry and every brain cell is dedicated to resisting the urge to kiss ghost and tell him how good it is.
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Hannibal gesturing to his cheek while trying to discreetly inform Will he has something on his face and Will getting confused and kissing Hannibal on the cheek instead. They’re not even together yet and immediately get so flustered.
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Imagine Will doing the ‘casually refer to your bf as your husband to see his reaction’ thing and Hannibal just straight up cries.
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breaking a new piece of furniture every other week and snickering to themselves while they stay up late to fix what they broke/reinforce it for next time. curled around each other and just so fucking charmed by each other, laughter coming easily no matter what.
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"I gave you a child, if you recall."
"Will you give me another one?"
Hannibal stills, not having expected Will to reply. When he looks at Will, no gaze meets his own. Will's eyes are fixed out, stubbornness or vulnerability or anger rendering him unable to look Hannibal's way.
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soap having to pause in the middle of getting the loudest sloppiest head of his life because they hear footsteps and need to listen for the direction and grinning to himself when ghost lets out a little sigh of relief and goes back to it when the coast is clear.
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this training exercise haunts the base like a specter, it's talked about like a punishment, like torture. but everyone goes, everyone practices because they know if it's not a coffin, it's rubble. it's an avalanche. they are not immune to being buried by nature if not man.
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soap is the first one to make it through the entire ordeal without help - because he has something to prove and because ghost needs to know he can handle it on his own and because soap trusts ghost so fucking much, what's being buried alive? he'd do it 100 times for ghost.
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Will: What starts with F and ends with K?
Hannibal, squinting in 'English is my 4th language': ...No it doesn't.
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ghost who actually gets a fair bit of attention on nights out and goes home with someone when he's in the mood for it. and soap's happy for him, really, but surely it's a better use of resources to set his sights...nearer. soap's right here after all. it makes tactical sense, Lt.
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It was exhilarating having a partner that simply would not break, no matter the pressure of Soap's hands. That would love to see him try.
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and when he's done lying there, he'll get to his feet and reach to haul himself up, and a strong hand will grab his forearm and help him out, greeted with a smile like a supernova against the bleak backdrop of a cloudy night sky and an open grave.
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Hannibal when Will doesn't give him a goodbye kiss: 🥺☹️ okay I guess I'll get one later *conceal don't feel* 😭
Will when Hannibal doesn't give him a goodbye kiss: *literally chases him to the car* 😤 WHERE THE FUCK IS MY KISS, ASSHOLE? 😠🔪
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flicking his forehead and teasing him for his eagerness, only to laugh when ghost levels an unamused look back.
soap absolutely blitzed and leaning entirely on ghost while staggering their way home, telling ghost "you look like my future husband" and giggling when ghost blushes.
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wildly incompatible mating practices with dragon!Ghost and werewolf!Soap.
Dragons who tend to spend their courting phases physically distant, leaving behind trinkets and gifts for their potential partner to accept until they learn what they like, what is acceptable,
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Hannibal: There are 27 bones in the human hand, Will. *holds out his hand* Would you like to make it 28?
Will: ... *slowly hands him a victim's detached jawbone*
Hannibal, sighing: I was offering you a handjob, Will.
Will: WELL WHY WOULD I ASSUME THAT RIGHT NOW.
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Together, they're chemical warfare. Obscene, a terrible tragedy you can't look away from, beautiful in its way. Tenderness like a snake bite and cruelty like a kiss.
Ghost's love is like his mother's love: turns men into monsters. A good thing, then, that a monster loves him.
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makes sure they'll stay warm while they fight their way out. makes sure the ground is shoveled perfectly into an even mountain of dirt beside, that there's no bad clumping or unfavorable amount of bugs to invade eyes and ears while they claw their way out.
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he tells them that their lighters will rob them of precious oxygen. he tells them that they have to keep their breaths as shallow and infrequent as they can. he tells them that they need to sit up as fast as possible, get their legs under them, just keep pushing.
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he promises he'll get them out. lets them have lights the first time - little delicate LED's around their feet and the edges of the coffin so they can see. has them practice just breaking out of the coffin first, only intervening when their scratches go quiet.
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both of them deep in it, soap fucking ghost from behind with an arm around his throat and knuckles white in ghost's sweaty hair, coming too soon and laughing when ghost's teasing turns to whines of overstimulation when soap's fingers take over.
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thinking about Will on his knees, gagging and choking on Hannibal's cock, sobbing and loud and messy, while Hannibal is completely stone-faced on camera during a remote therapy session with one of his patients.
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and sometimes, when it's dark and the stars are hidden, ghost lays himself down in that muddy grave. stares upwards and breathes in deeply, content with the knowledge he's passed on, the strength he's shared, the well-earned sting of victory in his nose.
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buries them again and again. promises every time that he'll be there to help if they can't do it themselves. that he won't let them fail - and they don't. already staunch devotion and loyalty become something more like worship, a trust so deep and wretched it stinks up the place.
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(and maybe Ghost never quite gets comfortable with other people touching him, Gaz and Price can get away with short, non-threatening things, but maybe eventually Ghost discovers that there is nothing he won't let Soap do to him, as long as Soap is touching him)
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demon Hannibal possesses the same town, anyone he can get his hands on, just because priest Will is always the one that gets called to the exorcisms and Hannibal has an absolutely pathetic crush on Will and this is the only way to get Will's attention or get Will to talk to him.
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Touch-starved Hannibal "physical touch as a love language" Lecter vs. touch-starved Will "don't touch me on any kind of intimate level except to initiate sex" Graham: fight.
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Said things like 'Harder' and 'That all you got?' and 'C'mon, like you mean it, Johnny'.
Soap wasn't capable of grabbing too hard. Going too deep. Being too mean. Not with Ghost.
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Will forgetting himself and giving Hannibal a kiss before Hannibal leaves the morgue. He blushes, mortified. Hannibal preens and bids everyone a good day. Team sassy science exchange money without a word. Jack is too old and straight for this shit.
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And do you know WHY Will Graham's oral game is fucking stellar? Because he grew up as the new kid in school in the Bible belt, where the girls insisted it was okay as long as he didn't use his dick and the guys said it's not gay if there's no eye contact.
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