i saw it on twisted lamb

The movies that will really freak you out are the ones that are mind blowing and full of twists.

Tumblr has a lot of horror movie posts but I have yet to see a psychological thriller one, so here you go! Enjoy :)

Please look up a brief description of each movie to check for triggers before watching. 

  1. Shutter Island (2010)
  2. The Machinist (2004)
  3. Silence of the Lambs (1991)
  4. Jacob’s Ladder (1990)
  5. Black Swan (2010)
  6. Memento (2000)
  7. The Flock (2007)
  8. Requiem for a Dream (2000)
  9. Anamorph (2007)
  10. Martyrs (2008)
  11. The Butterfly Effect (2004)
  12. Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
  13. The 6th Sense (1999)
  14. Side Effects (2013)
  15. Sinister (2012)
  16. Extracted (2012)
  17. Red Lights (2012)
  18. Sleep Tight (2011)
  19. Absentia (2011)
  20. I Saw The Devil (2010)
  21. Frozen (2010)
  22. Orphan (2009)
  23. The Killing Room (2009)
  24. The Broken (2008)
  25. Awake (2007)
  26. Inside (2007)
  27. Mr.Brooks (2007)
  28. Vacancy (2007)
  29. Zodiac (2007)
  30. Bug (2006)
  31. Dark Water (2005)
  32. White Noise (2005)
  33. Hard Candy (2005)
  34. Secret Window (2004)
  35. Saw (2004)
  36. Saw II (2005)
  37. Saw III (2006)
  38. Saw IV (2007)
  39. Saw V (2008)
  40. Saw VI (2009)
  41. Saw 3D (2010)
  42. Stoker (2013)
  43. Frailty (2001)
  44. What Lies Beneath (2000)
  45. Identity (2003)
  46. Mindhunters (2004)
  47. Triangle (2009)
  48. Spider (2002)
  49. Flight Plan (2005)
  50. Unknown (2011)
  51. The Jacket (2005)
  52. Stay (2005)
  53. Seven (1995)
  54. Tell No One (2006)
  55. Das Experiment (2006)
  56. Angel Heart (1987)
  57. The Uninvited (2009)
  58. The Others (2001)
  59. The Skeleton Key (2005)
  60. In Dreams (1999)
  61. The Gift (2000)
  62. Primal Fear (1996)
  63. Deception (2008)
  64. The Invisible (2007)
  65. Arlington Road (1999)
  66. Phone Booth (2002)
  67. American Psycho (2000)
  68. Cube (1997)
  69. The Fourth Kind (2009)
  70. Insomnia (2002)

If you can’t make out the highligned words, here they are:
“ Kill what I love?—A savage jealousy
That sometimes savors nobly. But hear me this.”
“ To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.”
“To do you rest, a thousands deaths [I] would die.”

They are from Shakespeare’s “The Twelfth Night”, Act 5, Scene 1.
So, whomever that book belonged to he felt very jealous towards someone he loved.

Let’s analyze the play a bit. It centres on the twins Viola and Sebastian, who are separated in a shipwreck. Viola (who is disguised as a boy, Cesario) falls in love with Duke Orsino, who in turn is in love with the Countess Olivia. Before this mess can be cleared, Orsino realises that not only that Olivia does not love him, but also that she is desperately in love with his henchman, Cesario. Also, he discovers that he has feelings for the latter himself (not knowing that, he is actually a she). The play reads:
“I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love
To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.” 
So, Orsino, will “sacrifice the lamb” that he loves, meaning hurt Cesario, to somehow get revenge on the “dove”, Olivia, who at the same time is also the “raven”, because she doesn’t pay attention to his declarations of love, and feels that is ungrateful towards him.

Could that have something to do with the Archer-Charlotte-Alison triangle? Could Archer be feeling jealous of Charlotte? And maybe started feeling something for Ali too? A sick, twisted something, for sure though. Maybe he saw that Charlotte wanted a good relationship with her sister, and felt she was ungrateful for all he had done for her. Also, Charlotte was Charles once.

Or maybe, Archer didn’t highlight those words at all. Maybe someone else did.

hyggekrog  asked:

Hello! I loooove your blog and have become completely addicted to it lately! I have always wondered how different things would be if Claire's parents and/or Uncle Lamb were still alive. Could you please write something involving them? It could be something such as when pregnant Claire returns to 1948 and their reaction to it – or something completely else! Pretty please and thank you! xoxoxo

Mod Note: I saw this ask after I’d just read @lenny9987‘s wonderful mini-fid/drabble, and I couldn’t help but think…what if…

So if you want to read that first, you’ll know where I got the idea. Thanks Lenny, majorly, for letting my piggyback off your wondrous story.

—> Lenny’s Uncle Lamb Drabble

Once more unto the breach, dear friends…

It hadn’t been the same since she’d returned. She smiled, but it didn’t light her face as it had before. She laughed, and joked but it didn’t brighten the room as it once had. She was irrevocably changed, and they all knew it.

Lambert closed the door to the upstairs sitting room, and left her curled up in the window seat, only the ticking clock for company. He’d, thankfully, managed to convince Frank that a move to America wasn’t for the best. Damned him, he’d been so utterly eager to have her moved somewhere far away, but at what cost? It wouldn’t make her forget, and they both knew it well.

“Is she sleeping yet?” Frank’s voice pierced through the calm, quiet of their home in Oxford.

“No, I doubt that she will for some time. But we can give her the space she needs, can’t we Franklin?” Lamb turned, looking the scholar up and down as he pronounced his words clearly.

Frank nodded, an abashed look crossing his face.

“Yes, of course, Lambert.” Taking his whisky tumbler, he rubbed his eyes and left the room, leaving Lamb to his own thoughts.

He’d seen the registry, of course. He believed Claire. In fact, he’d known something was afoot before she’d even gone missing. When she’d returned, clothed in that divine eighteenth century dress, his heart had shattered for her. He had truly believed her to have found her place, and to be thrust back into a life she no longer wanted; well, the least he could do was make sure she was safe and well cared for.

Closing the door to his study, Lamb unlocked the bottom draw and pulled out the the yellowed sheet of paper, running his fingers over the long-dry ink. Flopping back against his high-backed desk chair, he lay the paper on the desk and let his head fall into his hands, bereft.

Claire’s pregnancy proved challenging. She was quite sick. Most mornings she spent locked away in the bathroom. They were lucky to have an inside toilet, Lamb thought as he placed another cup of water on the side of the bath.

“You must drink, my Claire. Or else you’ll do yourself an injury,” placing his hand against her hair, he began to hum softly to her. He smiled, he’d never done this, even when she was a child in his care, but now it seemed necessary. “For the babe, Claire.”

Picking her head up from the cold porcelain of the toilet, Claire turned and nodded, taking the small glass and downing it in one go, whilst she still could.

“Thank you, Uncle Lamb. I’m sorry, I’m not very good company recently. I know you’re worried…”

“Hush, Claire,” Lamb interrupted, leaning over to kiss her forehead before taking the empty glass from her, “I do not need apologies from you, I just need you to heal.”

She scoffed, turning so that she sat with her back against the toilet, pulling her knees against her chest.

“You will, I know it seems tough now. It’s a fresh wound. But you have a marvellous new start. You’ll stay here, both you and Franklin. You’ll have the baby and we’ll go from there. You only have to take it one day at a time.”

“You’re right.” She acquiesced, bowing her head as her stomach rolled.

“That’s it, my girl. You’re strong, stronger than most.” Moving himself, he let her be once more, closing the bathroom door behind him as he left for the library. He had some research to conduct.

Lambert had been the one to collect Claire and Frank from the Wakefield manse, he’d had the pleasure of meeting with the reverend and Mrs Graham, and he knew what Claire had been told. But he wouldn’t believe it, until he’d seen it with his own eyes.

James Fraser may very well be dead, he certainly was in their time, but Lambert Beauchamp was not known for giving up easily.

Day and night passed. Weeks turned into months, and Claire grew outwards. Her due date hovered ever closer. Lamb had been hoping to have some news by her birthday, something that he could surprise her quietly with. But, unfortunately, some of his more elusive colleagues had yet to get back to him. He was getting closer though, he could feel it.

As the end of October neared, and Claire’s birthday dawned, he had to concede to the fact that he wouldn’t have his proof for her. He did, however, have something infinitely more valuable to pass over, and it was time.

“It’s only a little thing, Claire. I just hope you like it.”

Lamb could hear Franklin through the door, and lingered whilst he finished speaking with her. He was aware of their still-fragile state, and this was certainly a gift he didn’t wish for Frank to see. Not just yet, anyway.

“T-thank you, Frank. It’s…truly, it’s beautiful.”

“It’s for the baby, when he comes. Only something simple, just in case, since we won’t know the gender until then.”

“I’ll put it to the side, with the others.”

Lamb shook his head, nothing for her then, just something for the baby? Another signal that things weren’t as they should be. Part of him ached to say something, he’d never been one for settling and he hadn’t thought Claire to be, either. But since she’d been home, the fight seemed to have been kicked from her.

Lambert didn’t like it, not one bit.

The door creaked open and Frank jumped as he came face to face with Lamb, his hand reaching for his chest as he stepped backwards and stuttered, “oh, Lambert, I didn’t see you there. Are you…?” He held the door open, letting Lamb slip passed and into the small chamber beyond, nodding his head in thanks as the door, softly, closed behind him.

Good, Frank hadn’t followed.

He held the rather large package between his fingers, playing with the small bow his current assistant had tied around the dull brown paper, the only thing he’d had to hand at the time. Whether it was the right time to give her this, he wasn’t sure. He’d argued with himself for hours.

Claire had begun to become more animate as the pregnancy had progressed. He wasn’t sure if that was to do with the freedom and time he’d secured for her, or if she was simply getting better at hiding her melancholy. Either way, his mind was made up. If it thrust her back into a depression, then so be it. He would be the one to deal with the consequences.

Claire, having paid little attention, was still folding and unfolding the small baby-grows she’d been steadily accruing. Having heard the door close, she’d assumed she was alone and continued on as usual.

The baby was moving within her and she could feel the telltale sign of feet against her belly. As she tidied, she placed one hand just below her bosom and began to rub. Tiny flutters kicked at her palm and she tried her best to conceal the pain that rose in her chest.

The last time this had happened, she’d had Jamie by her side, and he’d felt Faith squirming and writhing beneath his fingertips.

The thought alone caused her chest to constrict painfully.

“Claire, my girl,” Lamb interjected, his cheeks warming as she was pulled from her haze, “I have a little something for you. If you please.”

She turned, wrapping the shawl more fully around her shoulders as she wiped the stray tears from her eyes.

She was flushed, too, he noticed.

Smiling, she nodded as he took one large step closer to her, still holding tight to his gift. An explanation was needed before he handed it over.

“Now, I think you need to understand something in advance of undoing this, Claire. Alright?”

“Yes, of course, what is it?” She tipped her head to the side, before sitting in her rocking chair. Her ankles had begun to swell, and she sensed this wasn’t going to be a quick chat.

“When you and Franklin were married,” he began, twisting the gift so that it lay across his chest as he spoke, “the reverend, at the time, left me alone with some of his documents as he prepared for the two of you. Do you recall it?”

Claire shook her head, the images floating around her brain were of a wedding, and they included that church. But it was not Frank she was marrying.

“Ah. I didn’t think so. Well, something very familiar caught my eye, and when you returned I made it my mission to see if I couldn’t secure that document for myself. Though, in actual fact, it has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with –you.”

A small, sad smile crossed his face as he passed over the neatly wrapped frame, his hands steady as she took it from him. “This is yours, should you want it. But, if it is too soon, then I can certainly store it somewhere safe for you. Until the time should come when you require it.”

Perplexed by her uncle’s strange behaviour, Claire slipped her fingers under the thick wrapping paper and began to uncover her present.

She nearly dropped it as the parchment became clear, the shock of it causing her heart to beat faster.

Silence filled the chamber as she held the framed wedding certificate up. Lamb could see her hands shaking as she brought it closer, her eyes flickering hither and thither as she read the signatures laid down all those years ago.

“If it’s too soon, I apologise, darling. I only had the best intentions. The church is rather in dire straights at the moment, the war having dried up a lot of the clergy’s funds. I saw it being cast into some fetid museum somewhere, lost to mould and damp, and I couldn’t have that. I didn’t think *you* would want that.”

Their names were still incredibly clear, preserved by some miraculous twist of fate. Claire couldn’t believe it.

“You knew…” she whispered, the words falling from her lips faster than she’d meant. “You knew before I even vanished?”

“I, well…” Lambert Beauchamp wasn’t the sort to ever be short of words, but here and now, he had very few things to say. Something unprecedented.

“I doubt I completely understood what it meant, my Claire. I just knew that it was important. I saw it, and it stuck. Part of me wished to pass it off as an extreme coincidence, but something in my gut told me that just wasn’t the case.” He took pause for just a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, “and suddenly you vanished, not a trace of you to be found. Only then did i really know what it had meant. And I knew you were safe, and loved. I couldn’t tell Franklin, of course. But I tried to make sure I kept him afloat.”

Claire clenched her jaw together, trying desperately not to cry. After she’d fallen for Jamie, and committed herself to staying with him, her only regret had been knowing she’d never see her uncle again. To discover that he’d known about her whereabouts was a huge relief, a belated one, but a relief nonetheless.

“It isn’t too soon, uncle Lamb. It’s perfect. I don’t know what to say.”

He chuckled, thrusting his hands into his pockets and swaying slightly as he stood. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just treasure it,” he winked, a proper one eye closed wink, “as I treasure you.”

Time, as always, was an impossible beast.

The phone rang as Claire’s waters broke, and Lambert was unable to take the call, his attention fully focused on his niece. The birth was a worrying one, and many hours in, both Frank and Lamb decided Claire needed to be taken into hospital. She was struggling and it was plain to see.

The two men paced the brightly lit hallway of the maternity ward. Lamb’s shirt was still damp from carrying Claire to the car, her sweat having drenched him. He clung to any bit of her, hoping beyond hope that she made it through. Thankfully, she hadn’t bled, but she’d been incredibly pale and weak.

The sound of a baby’s cry suddenly pierced the silence, ripping though the otherwise quiet corridor and Lamb turned on his heel, narrowly beating Frank to the door of Claire’s room. The nurse, a large butch women, shook her head through the glass and the men both stepped away, hearts racing in their chests.

It was several minutes more before she stepped out, the babe craddled in her arms.

“Congratulations, gentlemen, you have a little girl to add to your family.” The nurse, an aptly named Sister Minder, passed the wee wriggly thing to Frank and then stared up at the men, a look of sombre calm plastered over her face. “Towards the end there was a small internal bleed, the doctors have it under control, but Missus Beauchamp isn’t out of the woods yet. You can see her when you like, but be warned, she isn’t really conscious yet. Alright?”

They nodded, pouring their energy into the baby for the moment.

“She’s absolutely perfect, isn’t she.” Frank murmured, allowing Lamb to see her.

And she was. A smattering of bright red hair peeked out from under the blanket, sticking up in random spurts. Her eyes were scrunched closed and she had the tiniest button nose. Perfect, just like her mother had been, Lamb thought.

“Let me take her, Franklin. You go and see to it that Claire is perking up. She’ll want to know the babe is doing well, yes?”

Frank did as he was bid, passing the child over before sliding cautiously into Claire’s private room. Lamb let out a huge sigh and rocked his grandniece. It was good to be alone for just a little while.

The intern, a smallish boy, gangly looking and nervous, stood anxiously at the end of the hall. Lamb had a feeling he was plucking up the courage to come and speak to him, so he shook his head and wandered towards him.

“Are you looking for me, lad?”

The young man nodded, a scrunched note twitching between his fingers. “Yes, professor. I was told, you are Lambert Beauchamp, are you not?”

“Yes, son. You have something for me?”

He held the note up, a small piece of yellow notepad paper that had some scrawl written across it, “yes, it’s very important, but he asked if you could call him back, also. The digits are over the page.” With that, he passed the paper over and skittered away.

Lamb settled himself on an uncomfortable hospital chair, the infant cradled against one side as he uncurled the note with his now-free hand. His heart almost stopped as he read the thick black ink. Some of the letters had been smeared, but it was legible enough. He was certain, had he not been sitting, he would have dropped the baby.

She chose that moment to make herself known, yawning and letting out a tiny cry as she shifted more closely against Lamb’s chest.

Claire’s midwife chose that precise moment to walk down the hall, and Lamb called out to her.

“If you wouldn’t mind, would you see to it that the infant goes back to her mother. I have an important call to make.”

“Of course, Professor Beauchamp. There’s a phone down in A&E, I’ll let Mr Randall know you’ll be back shortly.”

Nodding, he shifted the babe across and turned on his heel, heading straight for the telephone. The incriminating message lay abandoned on the thick linoleum chair, Lambert having known his contacts telephone number by heart.

The words sat stark on the page, clear now for all who passed by to see.

‘Your man [stop] James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser [stop] survived [stop]’

Claire looked so small, laying as she was in the hospital cot, swathed in blankets. She’d been awake for a few brief moments in the days surrounding the birth, but she’d yet to say anything. Lamb was certain, however, that she knew her baby was safe and well.

“I know you can hear me, my darling.” He whispered, unwilling to shatter the tranquility of the room. Brushing the curls atop her head, he continued, “I have some news for you, some good news, but you have to be alert for me to explain it to you. Please, my Claire. Talk to me.”

Both him and Frank were getting desperate. They’d managed to waylay the naming of the infant, but it wouldn’t be much longer and they’d have to put *something* on the birth certificate. Neither of them wanted to do it without Claire’s say so.

Reaching beneath the covers, Lambert joined his hand with Claire’s and rubbed softly over her knuckles. She opened her eyes, the haze lifting as she pulled herself awake.

“There’s my girl.” He said, pulling a chair to her bedside so he could sit with her properly. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great.” She croaked, licking her dry lips as she readjusted herself. “Sore, mostly.”

Lamb chuckled, tears forming in his eyes as he breathed out a massive sigh of relief. “Well, that’s to be expected, sweetheart. You’ve just given birth, after all.” He brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of her hand reverently. “Would you like to hold her? I think she would greatly appreciate being close to her mother.”

Claire balked, her face paling momentarily at the suggestion. 

She was afraid.

Unwilling to let her fall into that chasm, Lambert helped her to sit, not asking for her opinion on the matter, and went to fetch the babe. Something told him his news would be better imparted when she had her daughter close by.

Claire took her, her hands shaking as she adjusted her newborn so she lay, comfortably, in the crook of her arm.

Lamb pulled the blanket aside, so Claire could see her face.

“She needs a name, darling. Have you thought of one? We managed to save that task, with no little effort, I can tell you.”

Claire was silent. Her eyes wide as she watched her daughter cough and snuffle, her wee nose twitching as if she were about to sneeze. But she didn’t. She simply yawned, a massive yawn that caused her tiny head to slip backwards, and twisted her head closer to Claire’s breast.

It had taken her less than a minute, but Claire had well and truly fallen in love.

Lamb smiled to himself, and waited for her to make the next move.

“Brianna,” she whispered, seconds later, so quietly that Lamb almost missed it, “Brianna Ellen.”

“Claire,” Lamb began, remembering his promise to her, “I had some news just after Brianna’s birth, something I’d been searching for. Something for you.”

Claire looked up at him, worry colouring her features, her heart beginning to beat erratically against her ribcage. “W-what is it, uncle Lamb?”

“Your man, young Master Fraser, I found him, Claire.”

She pursed her lips as the tears began to fall in earnest, her nose glowing an off pink as she nodded for him to continue.

“He didn’t perish, as you said, at Culloden. He lived, lives still.”

Claire’s choked sobs filled the room as she clutched her daughter close. Lamb didn’t, in all good sense, know what this meant for them. But he was determined to help Claire in any way she needed. Whether she chose to stay, or go.

Frank hadn’t seen the birth certificate. If he had, he’d have had an inkling of what was to come. As it was, Lamb had managed to hide the truth from him.

Both he and Claire had persuaded him to go back to work, him having taken a leave of absence during the traumatic birth. Much to his displeasure, he had. That left Lambert free during the day, free to plot his and Claire’s escape.

Brianna continued to grow and thrive outside of the hospital, growing more and more like Jamie everyday. Only now, it didn’t break Claire’s heart to look at her, it spurred her on for what she was about to do.

“I don’t want to hurt him again, uncle Lamb.” Claire’s voice broke the calm of the evening, as Lamb worked on getting them both to Scotland.

Placing the travel documents on his desk, he turned in his chair. “I’m afraid, my darling, there is no easy way to do this. I fear he’ll be hurt no matter what.” He offered her a seat and undid his bowtie, before pouring them both a wee dram from his decanter of finely aged whisky. “Have you changed your mind, then?”

She shook her head, vigorously, “no, not at all, how in the hell would we explain that her name is Fraser on the birth certificate if we stayed?”

Lamb laughed and passed her a tumbler. “This is very true, alas, it has to be soon. I’ve arranged for us to stay somewhere close by, somewhere we should encounter very few prying eyes. Especially since you’re so *well known* along those parts.”

Claire blushed, tapping the crystal with her fingernails as she drank.

“The reports from the time suggested he was living rough, in the caves on the outskirts of Broch Tuarach. If we have it correct, and time runs parallel, you should turn up whilst he’s still there. And not, we hope, after he’s been taken to Ardsmuir.”

Lambert had been incredibly cautious, gathering together as many facts as he could so as not to send Claire into the unknown, unprotected.

“D-do you think he’ll still be arrested, if Brianna and I are there?”

Lamb sighed, placing his glass back on the desk. “We cannot know for sure, my Claire. But, as you have seen, time simply bends to accept you. It does not change. At my best guess; I’d say he still does, yes.”

Claire looked down, swilling the amber liquid until it nearly spilled over the top of the glass.

“Claire, my darling, I love you, endlessly. I simply want for you and Brianna to be happy, and cared for. This will always be your choice, do you understand? If you choose to stay, I will make sure you’re well seen to. If you choose to go, James will do the same. Did he not do the same for Janet and Ian? For Young James and their other children?”

Claire stifled a sob and nodded.

“Then be at rest, sweetheart. For no matter your choice, you will be safe.”

Inverness was the same as it ever was. Claire stayed with Brianna, hidden away in their rented cottage, as Lamb gathered supplies from the town. Nobody really knew him here, he was shielded from the gossip that would surround Claire, should see be seen.

Lambert had managed to convince Frank that he was simply taking Claire away for a few days, a chance for her to breathe some fresh air. He had told them of the Lake District, of an old manner that he needed to investigate, and that Claire and Brianna were to go with him. Helwater, of course, might be somewhere Claire would find intriguing, but not in this century. However, the less Frank knew, the better.

The March equinox was fast approaching, a date that they’d both marked in their diaries as important. All they could do now was hope that Brianna was able to travel with Claire, should that *not* be the case, Lamb would take her in the hopes that Claire would be able to return straight back to them.


The fairy hill loomed, its vast presence blocking out the beginnings of dusk as Lamb and Claire climbed to meet the stones.

It was freezing, a thin sheen of snow and frost still coating the solid earth. It glimmered dimly in the evening light. 20:34 was the time Lamb had been told, a group of druids in the town has been gearing up for the celebration also and had advised him of the very specific hour.

“Do you think she’ll be able to travel?” Claire’s question interrupted his thoughts and he wrapped his arm around her waist as they reached the brow of the hill. He could tell Claire was uncomfortable. The buzz, which had been manageable only a moment ago, had become almost deafening. Brianna had begun to cry, her wails mingling with the intense hum that surrounded them.

“I should think so, my darling Claire. She’s like her mother,” he paused, kissing her softly on the temple before letting her turn towards him, “and you, my girl, are just like yours. I love you. Now, go!”

Claire had no time to process his words before she was thrust, unceremoniously, through time.

Darkness surrounded Lamb as the buzzing seemed to ease for a moment, taken as it was with following Claire and Brianna. He took a step back, and with his torch, surveyed the scene. There seemed to be no sign of his niece and grandniece, and he heaved a huge sigh of relief.

The journey back to Oxford was long.

Telling Frank that his wife and child had disappeared once more, seemed even longer.

He was mad, filled with an intense rage. But even the harsh words Frank Randall flung at him didn’t sting as they should. He was convinced, and always would be, that he’d done the right thing by Claire. And in turn, Brianna.

Frank would yield; he would recover and he would move on.

It was almost a year later, when meandering through a small Scottish gallery in Edinburgh, that he found her.

The portrait was small, only slightly larger than A4, but it was definitely her.

They sat, the three of them, around a small set of wooden blocks. Brianna was in the middle, one hand reaching behind her, to what he could only assume was her father. The other, held delicately in Claire’s lap. They were all smiling, and Lamb’s heart glowed at the sight of it.

Once more, she had found her true centre. 

She’d found her home.

The End.

This was the first horror movie I ever saw that made me ponder the act of killing as an Art. To see it a bit more sympathetically from the Killer’s perspective, however twisted, was so moving for me. I also love the sexual tension that results between Lecter and Clarice after their intimate quid pro quo exchanges. You can’t go that deep cerebrally without some consequences. Beautiful, Powerful film
—  Hakk Wylde