From the book Awakenings by Oliver Sacks. Sacks worked with Encephalitis lethargica patients living at the Mt. Carmel chronic hospital where they had been living for decades, largely forgotten about by the outside world.

Intrigued but the bizarre nature of their condition and its mysterious origin, he became convinced these people were not beyond reach. Sacks treated them with high doses of an experimental Parkinson’s drug called L-DOPA. Amazingly, the patients responded by “awakening” from their lost states. They seemed fully aware and seemingly cured.

Unfortunately, the initial positive reactions were marred by increasingly serious side effects. Once the medicine was stopped, as many chose to do, those treated quickly fell back into their statuesque slumber. 

Some, regardless of side effects, were also unable to reconcile the years they lost and the youth that went with them The patient above, Rose, chose to return to her former condition as she found it to hard to live in the present. She had not been well since the 1920′s, when the disease struck her as a young woman. 

I suppose Hannibal figured if Will never got treatment for encephalitis, he would have turned himself completely over to Hannibal’s care for his “mental illness,” and then Hannibal could start slipping Will the cure when his “therapy” started working, and Will would have never known he had encephalitis and always would have believed Hannibal’s murder therapy was what kept him sane.


“Fear is the price of imagination.”

By me, I used a combination of pencil, watercolor, & ink.
So for this piece I really wanted to take a combination of things that Hannibal and Will shared, intimately.
From the messed encephalitis clock all the way to the snails that were eating the gorgeous firefly piece Will created all on his own.
(Though this piece is suppose to represent the combination of Will and Hannibal’s relationship, I still threw in the death head because even though this symbolism wasn’t in the show, I feel it holds such a strong tie to who they are & the ‘occult like’ culture behind Hannibal based films I couldn’t leave it out as a fannibal.)

#Hannibal #artwork #myart #fearisthepriceofimagination #fannibal #hannigram #fanart #myart


A clip from Awakenings (1990). This film tells the true story of Oliver Sack’s work with former Encephalitis lethargica patients living at a chronic hospital during the 1960′s. Sacks treated the then frozen patients with an experimental Parkinson’s drug, L-DOPA. Amazingly, the patients responded by “awakening” from their lost states, seemingly cured.

Unfortunately, the initial positive reactions were marred by increasingly serious side effects. Once the medicine was stopped, as many chose to do, those treated quickly fell back into their statuesque slumber.

The movie was pretty faithful to its source (Sack’s book by the same name) and its a good watch if you can track it down. Robin Williams plays Oliver Sacks and evidently the two remained friends afterwards. RIP to them both.

Five Second Rule

I was digging through my drafts folder and found this random, mostly finished little ficlet. So I polished it up and present you with some random Hannigram.

Hannibal greatly enjoyed the times when he got to linger in the bowels of the FBI as he was today, leaning over a lightly putrefied body with contained fascination as Jack’s forensic team fussed around him. Admittedly, much of that enjoyment came from the fact that Will was generally nearby and often endearingly vulnerable in this environment, but even when Jack dragged Will away to his office – which he had done just ten minutes ago – Hannibal still took great pleasure in the chance to brush up on his understanding of the FBI’s inner workings. Indeed, he had spent a very entertaining forty-five minutes discussing the use of turmeric in fingerprint identification with Mr Price, the knowledge of which already had Hannibal both rethinking his post-kill clean up routine and considering whether he had anything in his freezer that might work well in a curry. Something delicate and fragrant, to go with the flank of that appalling parking attendant from the previous week, who had been sadly lacking in either quality.

It was, therefore, with pleasant images of arranging his next tableau – something involving flowers, perhaps, for Will – thronging in his head that Hannibal followed behind Price, Zeller and Ms. Katz as they made their way to the break room, having decided that they would make no further progress in the case without “choking down a disgusting amount of sugar,” according to Ms. Katz. Hannibal had nowhere pressing to be, after all, and would happily wait the whole afternoon in order to see Will again once he was released from Jack’s clutches.

That thought might have given Hannibal pause on any other day. However, just at the moment it crossed his mind, he happened to witness the greatest atrocity of his life.

“Oops, butterfingers!” Ms Katz trilled, as a glazed, rainbow-sprinkled doughnut slipped her grasp and landed on the floor, sprinkles down. And then Hannibal watched in fascinated horror as she bent to retrieve the soiled pastry, blew on it and, shrugging, said the words that struck disgust into Hannibal’s very soul.

“Five second rule!”

And then she ate it.

Hannibal had to leave the room. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to vomit otherwise.

Will caught up with him later in his lecture hall, where Hannibal was restoring inner harmony by rearranging the library of his mind palace. He had developed his own shelving system – the Dewey Decimal was hardly up to scratch – and was replacing some volumes of poetry when the smell of aged paper was joined by the ever-welcome scent of Will’s presence. Hannibal opened his eyes to find the profiler regarding him with a mildly concerned expression, perhaps discomfited by Hannibal’s apparent lapse into a vegetative state. Hannibal had yet to introduce Will to his palace, though of course versions of him already resided in many of its rooms.

“Hello Will,” Hannibal said, assuming a placid and affable tone in order to reassure his friend that he was perfectly well.

Will, somewhat worryingly, was not fooled, his magnificent brows drawing together in concern. Hannibal automatically catalogued the expression for future commitment to paper. He would have to find several hours soon to do so: his mental file of unrecorded images of Will was becoming somewhat unwieldy. Perhaps one day he would be able to coax Will to pose for him in the flesh. Perhaps in nothing but the flesh, his beautiful form freed from all that frumpy, everyman plaid, the firm, strong plains of his muscles exposed for Hannibal’s perusal…

“Is something wrong, Doctor?” Will asked, pulling Hannibal from his reverie, his tone brusque as ever but tinged with genuine care, the presence of which caused something to tighten painfully in Hannibal’s chest. He sighed and decided it could do no harm to inform Will of his friend’s unhygienic crassness. Will would likely brush it off as perfectly acceptable behaviour, causing a little tarnish to his appeal that Hannibal would be rather grateful of at that moment.

“Will, have you ever heard of something called the ‘Five Second Rule’?” Hannibal asked, unable to keep his mouth from twisting into a slight moue.

Will looked up at him in surprise and then slapped his hand across his eyes. “Please tell me Bev did not do that in front of you,” he groaned.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, amused by Will’s apparent embarrassment.

“I’m afraid to say she did,” he said, gently despite his stomach lurching slightly at the thought. “You do not approve?”

“Doctor, I live with a pack of dogs. Do you really think I would eat anything that had come into contact with my floor?” Will grinned and Hannibal’s breath hitched. “And I’m pretty certain I clean my floor more than most people, present company excluded.” Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat. “I keep telling Bev she needs to stop, it’s a really filthy habit.”

And then, well, there really was nothing for it but to close the gap between them and kiss Will, firm and sure and with just the slightest brush of tongue to really get the point across.

“Hannibal!” Will pulled back and Hannibal reflected ruefully that he would have preferred the first time Will addressed him by his first name not to have been with such shock in his tone.

“I must apologise, Will. That was not how I had planned…” he trailed off as Will’s eyes snapped up to his.

“Plan? What plan? There was a plan?” Will asked, his eyebrows threatening to detach completely from his head and rocket skywards.

Ah yes, the plan. The one in which Hannibal would – with the help of Will’s rapidly worsening encephalitis – break the empath, frame him and imprison him, to be kept under lock and key until the time might come when Hannibal wished to play with Will’s brain once more. The plan which, Hannibal now realised, he had not thought through with his usual precision, because it would be inconvenient to have to visit the BSHCI every time he wished to kiss Will. The plan which would now have to be abandoned completely because there was little… there was absolutely no chance Hannibal was not going to keep kissing Will, now that he had started. Kissing and, with any luck, much, much more. Assuming Will would let him, that is.

Will, who had pulled back but not out of Hannibal’s embrace.

Will, who was looking up at Hannibal from beneath those ridiculous, beautiful lashes.

Will, who was very definitely smirking and leaning in close to whisper in his doctor’s ear, “Well, Hannibal, it seems you don’t have a problem with all filthy things.”

And it was true because, as they soon found out, there were some things Hannibal was very happy to eat off the floor, even after they’d been there much longer than five seconds.

cosmofex  asked:

There's something i've been curious about: How do you come up with the magic-scientific terminology? Because I have previously looked up "claudication" and it turns out it's a medical term for leg cramps which, unless i'm missing steps in the logic chain, doesn't lead to "worldgate" easily. Is it just what sounds nice and sciency or is it based on actual terminology? (also confusing is online dictionaries "use in a sentence" using YW quotes, which don't match meanings, so it's not super helpful)

I really have to find a little time in the next little while to get the new installation of the Errantry Concordance kickstarted. (The old one had to be removed because it was constantly under attack by hackbots of various kinds trying to use it to house links to counterfeit Viagra.) (sigh)

Anyway: Most wizardly terminology in the YW universe is derived either from (broadly) scientific terminology or (more narrowly) medical terminology twisted slightly out of shape and/or subverted to my own purposes. Almost all terms are derived from Latin or Greek roots and assembled in ways consistent with the ways in which scientific terms are formed. (I took Latin in high school because I knew it to be a primary language of science and felt sure I’d be wanting it in college. The Greek came along with that more as a gateway into the ancient classics than anything else, but it too gets used routinely in scientific terminology.) I prefer to use genuine scientific concepts and terms to generate wizardly ones, because (a) I enjoy it and (b) I am lazy. Why waste time and energy making terms up when so many real ones are  lying around just waiting to be used? …But also: wizardly terms constructed using valid scientific usage sound more real. And the more truth you add to a lie, the stronger it gets. :)

Re claudication: The word goes back, originally, to the Latin claudo- root that means to shut or block something up. It also later came to mean a limp or lameness secondary to what was seen in ancient times as a blockage of local blood supply. This is also where the Emperor Claudius got his common appellation, by the way: Claudius is a second name, almost more a nickname than anything else – and too easily translatable as “Gimpy”. He limped from childhood, secondary to a dystonic / movement disorder from which he suffered his whole life and which caused some members of his family (and the public in general) to think of him, and treat him, as if he was mentally deficient – which he definitely was not. (The forensic medical people are still arguing over what was responsible for this disorder: possibly cerebral palsy or a childhood neurological insult via something like infectious encephalitis. See this article for what look like the best conjectures so far.)

…Whatever: where were we? When I was studying nursing, the term claudication was in general use to describe a narrowing or constriction of blood vessels (up to the point of obstruction, anyway, at which point other terminology cuts in). So when I started thinking about the concept of giving wizards a little portable pocket in spacetime, the word “claudication” naturally suggested itself, and “temporospatial” seemed an unavoidable add-on.

Therefore the entry in the Concordance defines claudication as:

A pinching or obstruction in some structure or medium through which another medium is normally meant to pass or flow freely. In wizardly usage, a constriction – normally artificial, but occasionally natural – in the structure of space, or (in the case of temporospatial claudications) of spacetime.

The most frequent casual usage for the term describes a small, “pinched-off” volume of space. Since space is already amenable to this kind of pinching (a much gentler version of which manifests itself as gravity), many wizards use one of these to keep personal belongings in. A claudication can be “hooked to” or associated with a specific mass – usually the wizard’s own body – so that it permanently follows the wizard around and is always within reach.

The definition for temporospatial claudication is a bit more specific:

Any pinching or constriction that affects both a volume of space and a segment of time or timeflow. Usually a temporospatial claudication is artificially induced, but there are occasional incidences of the effect in nature. (Black holes, for example, can sometimes have temporospatial claudications associated with them.)

The term is also used to describe a small pinched-off volume of spacetime kept for wizardly purposes. (SYWTBAW, et al)

So there you have it. Thanks for asking!

So there's a girl on Britains Got Talent

And she had encephalitis

And it’s actually made me both really hopeful and really upset

Because I’ve been feeling worse and worse and my speech is slurring an I’m worried and I also feel hopeful because she recovered

But I’m so scared I’m getting worse, because I know I am and there’s nothing I can do to stop it

And nobody can say how long it’ll take, it could be years and I’m scared guys…


A day’s worth of sketching. My Tumblr serves as both a medical blog and as a personal source for creative inspiration.

Top left image, plague doctor c.1700. Top right image, Encephalitis lethargica in a patient of Frederick Tilney. Bottom image, Anopheles stephensi, the mosquito responsible for spreading malaria and yellow fever.

Tummy Time

Short little one shot where Will expounds on the wonders that is Hannibal’s tummy.  For all you fellow Mads’ tummy enthusiasts.  (Also on AO3)

After a while, when newness and excitement begin to give way to familiarity, couples relax into the established intimacy and comfort of their partnership; such was the case with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.

Each knew how the other took their coffee, what positions they preferred to sleep in, how to forgive and forget, and when the other was in a foul mood before even a single word was spoken – for Hannibal knew better than to even try to reason with Will when he would start cleaning his fishing lures and arrange them by size; and Will knew to get out of Hannibal’s way when he began humming Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique.

That was closeness. That was ease. That was love.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hannigram 8 <3

8. things you said when you were crying (prompt meme)

“Mmm, that’s nice. You should really charge by the hour for this.”

Will sat with his feet in Hannibal’s lap, on the receiving end of an extraordinarily skilled foot massage. They were sat on the porch swing of their mountain cabin, enjoying the last long days of summer, their sweating glasses of lemonade forgotten on the table next to them. The two dogs lay on the ground next to them on their backs, legs splayed and tongues lolling in the heat.

“What makes you think I’m not keeping a running tab for things like this?”

“Hah, if that’s the case, I’ve run up quite the bill. When, may I ask, are you coming to collect, Doctor?”

“Oh, you’ll know when it’s time. I’m not one to forgive debts. Especially when you can offer such wonderful gifts in return.”

Hannibal moved his hand up to Will’s calf at this, kneading it firmly with his hand. He looked over at Will, and the wicked glint in his eye was almost enough to have Will half-hard in his shorts.

Will shifted a little so that he could reach Hannibal’s mouth, giving him a soft kiss in thanks. Hannibal let out a low moan at this, reaching his free hand up to hold Will’s cheek and deepening the kiss. They made out lazily for long minutes, Hannibal’s tongue exploring Will’s mouth thoroughly and his hand still massaging Will’s calf and sending sparks up into his groin.

Just as Hannibal began to move his hand up towards Will’s inner thigh, they were jolted from their reverie by a sharp bark. Will, always attuned to his pack, pulled back reluctantly from Hannibal’s plush mouth to see what had Encephalitis so worked up. The dachshund was already up and running, heading towards the tree line at far edge of their property and barking all the way. Bubbles, their corgi, had perked up, but wasn’t quite ready to give up her spot on the grass unless she was sure something good was going on.

“Ceph! Ceph, what is it?”

Will laughed at the petulant look on Hannibal’s face before getting up to see what had the dog so agitated.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you. Keep my seat warm.”

He crossed the small field to find Ceph sniffing and whining at a huge brindled Mastiff, lying on the ground and breathing heavily.

“Oh god, oh god.” Will kneeled down and reached his hand out so the dog could smell it, gaining its trust before running his hand gently over its side to check for injuries. The dog was quite obviously in a lot of pain, but Will couldn’t determine its origin.

“Hannibal!” His voice trembled and broke a little on the last syllable, panic rising in him as the dog continued to whine softly.

“Will? Will, what is it?”

“Hannibal, come here, I need your help.”

Suddenly Hannibal was there, crouching down next to Will and putting his hand firmly on Will’s shoulder, grounding him.

“Who do we have here?”

“He’s hurt. We have to help him, Hannibal, he’s hurt bad. I can’t find it, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Shhh, shhhh, it’s alright, we’ll figure it out. We’ll help him the best we can. Let me see.”

Hannibal repeated Will’s motion of allowing the dog to smell him, then palpated firmly on the dog’s abdomen to check for internal injuries.

“He’s malnourished, but there’s nothing seriously wrong that I can feel. Let’s see if we can get him to stand. Help me Will, he’ll be quite heavy.”

As Hannibal reached out to get a grip on the dog’s thigh, it let out a loud yelp and began whining more intensely.

“Ah, we’ve found it. He seems to have fractured his leg. Not to worry, though it won’t be a quick heal, he’ll be fine once we stabilize it.”

Will was still shaking a little with his earlier adrenaline rush, but nodded firmly and pet the dog’s head reassuringly.

“Can we give him anything for the pain?”

“We’ll need to sedate him, and yes, I have some morphine in the first aid kit that we can dose appropriately for his weight. We’ll get him comfortable. Can you stay here with him while I go inside and get my supplies?”

Will nodded again, and Hannibal got up to return to the house. When he came back. Will was sitting with the dog’s massive head in his lap, murmuring comforting words. Hannibal wondered if Will knew he was crying, light tracks of tears running unbidden down his face. In that moment, he looked at Will and saw the absolute best of his heart, and he fell deeper into love with him than he ever thought possible. This Will was the shining counterpart to the deadly and bloody Will who had ensnared him all those years ago, and he was equally beautiful for it.

“You’ve got him, he’s going to be alright. I’m going to give him an injection that will take away his pain and put him to sleep for several hours. I can set his leg while he’s under, but we’ll need to keep him on light sedatives for the next few weeks to keep him from moving around too much while it heals.”

Hannibal proceeded to prepare the syringe and put the dog under, his giant tongue lolling out of his mouth as he lost consciousness. Once the dog was asleep and Hannibal was sure he could feel no pain, he took the dog’s leg in his hands, feeling to make sure the break was clean.

“It’s a simple fracture, no other damage to the area. He’ll be just fine.”

He quickly set the bone into place and wrapped it with a splint, giving Will’s hand a squeeze after. Will gripped his hand hard, his breathing coming more evenly now.

“Come on, let’s get him into the house. We’ll pull one of the extra duvets for him to lay on until we can get a dog bed big enough.”

It was quite a task to get him home, as the dog weighed at least a hundred pounds, but the two of them managed it, laying him out on the living room floor next to the fan. Ceph and Bubbles followed them in, sniffing excitedly at the new addition.

Will busied himself in the kitchen while the dog slept, making a big batch of food for him. He made sure to add extra eggs and a bit of olive oil to get his coat back into good shape, and stored the extra in the fridge. It looked like their food budget would be going up quite a bit, but Hannibal found that he didn’t mind that quite as much as he thought he would have.

Later that evening, after the dog had come out from under the anesthesia and enthusiastically eaten his dinner, Hannibal checked on his vitals before letting him doze again. Afterwards, they sat on the sofa with their two smaller dogs, Will’s head in Hannibal’s lap and Hannibal gently stroking Will’s hair.

“You did a good thing today, Will. Your capacity for caring is something you should be proud of.”

“Hannibal, I didn’t do a thing! I sat and panicked while you handled all of the hard parts. I was a crying mess.”

“You found him and you comforted him, and yes, you cried over him. All of these are brave things, Will. I’m proud to call you my partner at times like this.”

“Even when I bring a hundred-pound dog into our small house? We’re not going to have a moment of peace once he’s out from his sedation, you know that.”

“Hmm, I expect not. But if caring for Herakles will make you happy, then I can think of much worse disturbances.”

“…you’ve already named him? I really am rubbing off on you, huh?”

“He’s a strong one, Will. The name is only fitting.”

“Hah, it is at that. And now I suppose my debt column has only increased. How would you like to collect tonight, Doctor?”

“I was going to offer my services pro-bono today, but if you’re offering, I’ve got a few ideas…”

Will laughed brightly, looking up into Hannibal’s warm smile. “By all means, lead the way. I’m suddenly feeling very ready for bed.”

will graham and the case of mistaken identity

will: a wendigo keeps skulking around my house

hannibal: mm yes the encephalitis i prescribed must be working

will: he has a deer’s head and a man’s body

hannibal: yes

will: also claws like a velociraptor


will: he leaves behind large turds

hannibal: …will, i think it might be time to

will: i filmed him on my iphone, look

hannibal: …

will: he’s kind of an asshole


So, I went to have jabs against encephalitis today. Had a long conversation with the nurse about the variants. At the end she asked how it was I knew so much about the illness. I explained, she grasped my hand and said “oh god I love Hannibal, what’s your tumblr handle? Do you write fic? Really? Oh wow” The start of a beautiful friendship! And I’m immunised against tick borne encephalitis too! Result!

David Fincher's Netflix Drama 'Mind Hunter' Finds Its Star
'Lights Out' alum Holt McCallany joins 'Fringe's' Anna Torv and 'Looking's' Jonathan Groff.

The project is based on the 1996 book Mind Hunter: Inside the FBI’s Elite Serial Crime Unit by John Douglas and Mark Olshanker. While specific details about the drama are being kept under wraps in typical Fincher fashion, the series is said to revolve around two FBI agents in 1979 who interview serial killers in an effort to help them solve current murders. McCallany will play Bill Tench, the inquisitive, skilled and forward-thinking detective. He joins a cast that also includes Fringe alum Anna Torv as Wendy, a psychologist, and Jonathan Groff (Looking) as Holden, one of the special agents.

Never heard of this show before, but its interesting to note that John Douglas was helpful to Thomas Harris when he was writing his books and consulted on Silence of the Lambs. Some details in Douglas’ life have made their way into the Hannibal universe and he is often cited as the inspiration for Jack Crawford. But most interesting to me as a TV!fannibal is that, while on location hunting the Green River Killer, Douglas nearly died from undiagnosed encephalitis.