Hannigram Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts
Copia
The night was a living, breathing thing here in Sugarloaf Key. The sky was riddled with mosquitoes who careened towards Will, attracted to his legs and arms. They were swatted off and cursed out. As a kid, Will recalled reading about mosquitoes and how the damned things needed it for reproduction. Male mosquitoes ate solely flower nectar whereas female mosquitoes ate a combination of flower nectar and blood. If Will remembered correctly, protein in the blood was used to help develop mosquito eggs. Mosquitoes would track humans and other hosts by using their heightened sense of smell and vision. They track down unwilling blood donors via carbon dioxide emission, body heat, perspiration, and sometimes skill odor.
These goddamn pests reminded Will of someone he once knew. Or rather, thought he knew.
If one listened attentively, they could hear the soft hiss of snakes; some of who were in pursuit of the marsh rabbits. The critters darted in and out of the thicket, startled mostly by the clatter of Will’s fishing gear. It wasn’t much. Any good fisherman was good because their best tool was what was in their heads, not in their hands. Will wasn’t above using his mind to assume the perspective of a cobia fish. In his hands were hooks, a fish line and reel, and a cooler containing several empty water bottles, the remnants of his lunch, and three fresh cobia.
Eleven years ago, when Molly, Willy and him had first moved in together at Sugarloaf Key, Molly was horrified by Will’s poor eating habits. At first, he had been against the food preparation on her part. He had argued that he was more than capable of surviving on an empty stomach. Molly had insisted that eating when one is hungry is human nature and the last time she’d checked, Will was a homosapien. She really did care about him; and because Will didn’t want her to worry, he had begrudgingly taken the clunky cooler in as a part of his fishing regimen.
Besides, it was good for storing the cobia that he and Molly would be baking tonight in honor of Willy. The boy had taken a liking to baseball and played throughout middle school into his last year of high school. He and his high school team were pretty good; the Sugarloaf Sluggers.That’s where Willy and Molly were now, at one of his games. It was the game that would determine whether the Sluggers would qualify for districts. Will had stayed behind to catch some cobia, Willy’s favorite fish, in celebration of his team’s success thus far. Not that Molly would ever admit it, but she thought Will was a jinx. Considering that every game Will had attended in every baseball season of Willy’s life had resulted in a victory for the opposing team, he was more than willing to sit this one out.
Beside his house, was a newly fashioned shed that was Will’s and Molly’s handiwork. Within it was an assortment of Will’s fishing and carpentry tools, Molly’s gardening gear, and Willy’s plastic bags and wiffle balls. Once he got to it, he settled his fishing accoutrements on the brittle grass and dug into his pocket for his key chain. He and Molly had agreed to keep the shed under lock and key after mice had broken in and procreated everywhere. It was a goddamn mess that was resolved by two pairs of gloves and a bucket of coyote urine.
Florida was most definitely the sunshine state.
His pockets came up empty. Will, figuring he must have left the key chain in the house, abandoned all of his fishing gear aside from the cooler. He wouldn’t want those dammed mice to get at the cobia.
As Will neared the front of his house, he noticed something peculiar. A flicker of light in the living room window. Was it a trick of the eyes or did he just see a flash light? When the light flashed for a second time, Will quickly ducked into the shrubbery, out of sight. Definitely a flash light. Crouching from his hiding spot, Will had a perfect viewpoint of the driveway, which was empty. Willy and Molly weren’t home yet.
Who the fuck was trespassing in his living room?
laying in bed like a victorian condemned to the plague while simultaneously listening to Orville Peck and reading western/cowboy fanfiction is top tier selfcare.
HOW COULD I NOT BE A WILL GRAHAM APOLOGIST!?!?
you either die a will apologist or live long enough to see yourself become a hannibal apologist