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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Falling (In a Different Way)- Hannigram x OC

Hannibal Lecter x Celine Lennox x Will Graham

Description: After hearing news of Hannibal and Will’s deaths, Celine has a hard time learning to heal. However, she receives quite a shock when she goes on vacation to Hannibal’s home country.

Word Count: 2.3k

Celine felt herself go numb when Jack, Alana and Bedelia told her the news. While in Italy, they had teamed with her fiances Hannibal and Will in order to kill Francis Dolarhyde. Once he was dead and gone, they were ready to go home until they turned around in time to see Will push both himself and Hannibal off the cliff that they had just previously pushed Dolarhyde off of. They attempted to look for the men, but they were nowhere to be found. They’d been washed away by the sea. She never even got to tell them goodbye.

“Is there anything we can do for you, Miss Lennox?” Jack asked gently. That caused Celine to snap out of her stupor, though her ears were still ringing a bit, and she shot them a polite smile.

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for coming by,” she responded simply, standing up and leading them to the door. Jack looked like he wanted to protest, but one look from Alana told him that now wasn’t the time. So, the trio wished her farewell and walked out. Celine watched the car pull out of the driveway and disappear down the road before stepping back inside.

After closing the door, she had no reason to stop the tears from flowing. She hadn’t even realized that she had let out an agonizing scream until her throat began hurting. Sobs racked her body as her knees buckled from under her. She fell to the ground, continuing to bawl her heart out as she attempted to stop this anguish from entering her heart.

Her breakdown lasted hours. By the end of it, Her cheeks were raw from continually wiping her face, her throat was raw from screaming, the house was trashed and her hands were bloody, from what, she didn’t know. All that she knew was that the loves of her life were dead, and she was broken from it.

Two years went by in a blur for her. She was nowhere close to being healed from what happened, but she was managing just fine. Just a few days after being informed of their deaths, Celine was visited by the boys’ lawyers, telling her that she had been left everything in their wills and that the guys said they were sorry. She was angry for a long time after that. Neither Will nor Hannibal had told her where they were going nor what they were doing, but they had time to transfer everything in their will to her? They said it would be too dangerous for her to go, so she stayed like they’d asked. Look where that got her though.

Eventually she understood why they did it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. They were still dead, and she was still alone now. She still lived in the same house, not having the heart to sell it and move somewhere else. It held too many happy memories for her to just give it up.

After spending two years in Maryland alone, she decided to go on a vacation. Hannibal left her everything in his will, that included his estates in Italy, Cuba and Lithuania, any one of those would be perfect. She just wanted to get out of wet and cold Baltimore, and sunny Lithuania was possibly the best option for her. Alana was happy to see her finally get out of the house, and Jack and Bedelia knew this would be good for her.

Within a week’s time, she was bringing her stuff inside Hannibal’s house (it felt weird to call it hers, so she just didn’t). Thankfully she made sure that the cleaning people would come by at least once a month, so the house was practically spotless. The first thing she did was go shopping since she knew logically that the fridge and cabinets would be empty. She was happy to converse with the people in the market as she shopped, learning a few key words in Lithuanian in case she’d ever need it.

When she returned home, there was a bright smile on her face. She’d only been here a few hours and she was already beginning to feel at peace. As she walked into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but stop in the doorway as she looked around. Were there pans on the stove before she left? Her eyes widened when she heard a noise coming from upstairs. Someone’s here with her.

As quietly as she could manage, she set the bags down to the side so the intruder wouldn’t know that she was home yet. She tiptoed into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife that sat in the set. The footsteps upstairs began making their way down the stairs, so Celine took that as her cue to hide behind the doorway as a plan formed in her head.

She waited with bated breath as the intruder reached the bottom of the stairs. They began walking towards the kitchen, and she took a very quiet deep breath. This is it. It’s now or never. The footsteps grew closer, and she finally saw the person appear in the doorway, despite it being dark. Without a second thought, Elena swung her arm out and clotheslined the intruder, getting him in the neck. He grunted and fell back, but was quick to swing blindly in the dark. Celine successfully managed to duck it then kick him in the gut, smirking when he recoiled from it.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t expecting a second intruder to be there. She cried out when the second person yanked her hair, moving her away from the first one. The first one managed to land a punch to her cheek before practically tackling her to the floor. Her head hit it and she let out a small groan, but didn’t give herself a lot of time to stay still before she put the knife in her hand to good use. She swung blindly, but managed to get the guy’s left arm before it was wrenched away from her. He couldn’t do much with it before the second one turned on the lights. He lifted his hand to stab Celine, but both froze when their eyes met once they were lit up by the kitchen lights.

“Celine?” He questioned, looking shocked.

“Will,” she breathed out, eyes wide. Her head snapped to where the second guy stood, not believing her eyes.

“Hannibal?” The man in question’s eyes were wide, though there was a calm expression on his face. Celine couldn’t stop looking between the two.

“You’re alive?” That’s all she could come up with. But it wasn’t possible. They fell off a cliff, they were dead. Jack couldn’t find them. The thought made her laugh, which confused the men in front of her.

“I see what’s going on here,” she stated. Will and Hannibal shared a look before facing her once more.

“You...do?” Hannibal questioned slowly, walking over to her. Celine nodded her head with an amused smile forming on her face.

“I’m hallucinating again,” she explained, pushing Will off of her. “Bedelia said that this may happen again since I’m going to a place connected to you two.” She stood up and brushed herself off, beginning to walk to the living room where her bags were. “She very kindly gave me some Nuplazid specifically for this. All I have to do is take some and the guys will disappear like you do every time.” By the end of her sentence, she seemed to be talking to herself rather than the guys.

“Bedelia?” Hannibal repeated as he and Will followed the girl. She ignored his question and dug through her bag, pulling out the orange bottle. After shoving two pills down her throat, she took a deep breath then closed her eyes. They snapped open just a moment later when Will grabbed her hand, and she yanked it away.

“Why haven’t you gone away? You're supposed to go away, you always did before. But you’re still here, which means…” she trailed off, looking between them. “You’re alive.” Neither man had an idea of how she would react, but they definitely weren’t expecting Celine to slap Will across the face as hard as she could. It was enough to make him stumble back from her and he held his cheek in shock.

“Celine-”

“How dare you,” she hissed, cutting off Hannibal’s sentence. She reeled back and delivered a punch to him as well, though he didn’t react as much as she would have liked, so she kept hitting him.

“You two died! You left me alone!” She yelled between hits. “You left me in that stupid big house thinking that it was my fault! I thought that I lost you two forever!”

“Angel, we-”

“SHUT UP!” She screamed at Will, already feeling her throat constricting as tears welled up in her eyes. “Neither of you talked to me for two fucking years! Two years of agony, of feeling numb and dead inside! Two years of wishing that I had fallen off that cliff with you two! You don’t get to talk now!” She attempted to push Hannibal away from her, but his hands shot out to grab her wrists. Because his grip was so tight, she couldn’t pull away no matter how hard she tried.

It wasn’t until she felt like her wrists were about to dislocate that she finally stopped her assaults and collapsed into a heap of sobs. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she allowed Hannibal to lower her to the ground as she continued to cry.

“You left me,” she whimpered out, barely having enough breath to do so. She had no strength to do more than sniffle as she sat there, her tears rolling down her cheeks less frequently now. Finally, once her sobs had turned into sniffles and stray tears, Will crouched down beside them.

“Can you please listen to us now?” Hannibal asked gently as his fiance pushed some hair out of the girl’s face. Though hesitant, Celine finally offered him a single nod. She was genuinely curious about their explanation.

“Maybe you could clean me up while we talk,” Will suggested, glancing at his arm, still bleeding from her slash during their fight. Once again, she nodded then allowed Hannibal to help her up.

“Dolarhyde was dead and defeated,” Hannibal said as he watched Celine pour some hydrogen peroxide onto a rag from his place at the stove. “But Will had previously told me of Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom’s plan to kill me after we killed Dolarhyde. They finally figured out that I was the Chesapeake Ripper and Will was also a serial killer.”

“We had to think of something quick while they were distracted,” Will continued, pausing to hiss when Celine pressed the rag to the cut. She offered him an apologetic smile, to which he grinned at.

“Anyways, I remembered seeing a cave in the cliff while sea fishing a few days ago. If you planned it right, you could land on a small ledge just below the cliff’s edge then slide the rest of the way down to the cave.”

“We stayed there until we knew for certain that Jack, Alana and Bedelia were gone. After that we had to swim to shore so we could get our injuries checked out,” Hannibal added, flipping the stir fry in the pan. “The FBI knew what we were, and we couldn’t give them even a single hint that we were still alive, we had to make them think that we were dead so that we wouldn’t be taken into custody. That meant having no contact with you.”

“Jack was suspicious that you were in on the killings,” Will said as Celine began wrapping a bandage around his arm. “He would be watching you for a while after he returned to the FBI. We couldn't risk him finding anything so we couldn’t let you know that we were still alive,” he grabbed her hands, which made her stop and look at him. “It killed us to do it, it hurt worse than anything we had to endure up to that point, you have to believe me Celine,” he concluded, staring straight into her eyes so she knew he was genuine. The girl sighed and her gaze fell to the floor.

“I hate that I can’t be mad at you guys,” she muttered. “I don’t think I’m ready to forgive you guys.”

“There is a difference between forgiveness and accepting an apology,” Hannibal said, throwing the dish towel over his shoulder and setting the pan to the side to cool a bit. He faced the duo then leaned against the counter in front of him.

“Forgiveness is to pardon or excuse someone for what they’ve done. Accepting an apology is to acknowledge that they are trying to atone for what they’ve done. If you don’t think you can forgive us quite yet, then what you’re saying is that you’re at least accepting our apology.” Celine hummed in thought, then looked between them.

“It’s no excuse for the pain you caused me, but I’m grateful that you guys apologized. So yeah, I accept your apology. You’ve got a long way to go before you can earn my forgiveness.” Hannibal let a small smirk grace his face.

“I expected nothing less from you, my brangioji (darling in Lithuanian),” he responded smoothly. “But for now, let us be happy that we are all together once again, hm?” Celine couldn’t help but grin, she liked that idea. They seemed to understand that because Will led her to the living room while Hannibal grabbed the food. All three of them knew that she would forgive them sooner rather than later, but the guys were still willing to wait as long as it took.

#nbc hannibal #hannibal #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x oc #will graham #will graham imagine #will graham x oc

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?”

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.”

His wife looked quite pleased with herself.

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.”

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.”

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-”

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.”

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?”

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?”

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out.

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live.

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.”

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.”

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because.

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili.

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction.

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.”

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...”

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting.

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.”

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.”

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child.

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere.

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

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And the Woman Clothed With the Sun...

3x09

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, nightmares, talk of children and having them

Author’s Note: I really really liked this episode. I love playing with dynamics SO MUCH. I hope you guys like this?

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: As the search for Francis Dolarhyde (Richard Armitage) continues, Will starts imagining himself in Dolarhyde's tormented psyche -- and asks Hannibal for help with the serial killer's profile; a new woman (Rutina Wesley) enters Dolarhyde's life.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif)

“That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court,” Hannibal said. He turned around slowly, acting as though he were not surprised to see you and Will together. The thin line of glass between the two of you Hannibal seemed so thick.

The truth was, you had never truly gotten over Hannibal. You had pretended to, for the sake of Will, but you had never really stopped thinking about what he could be doing. There was a link that the three of you had with each other that was unexplainable. You had started a new life. But your old one still called your name.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” Will said simply. He was contained. You fed off of his energy to keep yourself in check as well.

“Hello, Will. Y/N.” He stepped closer to the two of you. “I believe congratulations are in order. I apologize I couldn’t make it to the wedding. Alana gave me some pictures, to taunt me presumably.” You smiled. You thought about Hannibal holding the pictures of you and Will laughing, beaming at each other. “Did you get my note?” You nodded.

“We got it. Thank you,” you said simply. You and Will stood close together. He had his coat draped over his arm and you held the papers from the cases.

“Did you read it before you destroyed it? Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?” Hannibal asked. You scoffed a bit.

“We read it. Then he burned it,” you promised. He nodded.

“And you came anyway.” Hannibal eyed you. “I’m surprised you let that happen.”

“We all falter in some ways,” you said simply.

“I want you to help me, Dr. Lecter,” Will said to break the conversation. He still didn't trust Hannibal with you. Reminiscent of the days you used to work with Hannibal.

“Yes I thought so. Are we no longer on a first-name basis?” Hannibal asked.

“I’m more comfortable the less personal we are,” Will said. Hannibal looked over at you, eyeing your entire body. He made note of the scent. The scent off of both of you.

“Your hands are rough Will. I smell dogs and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion.” He looked at you. “Did you steal that perfume from my home?” he questioned. You stiffened. You had gotten some perfume from his home as they cleaned it out. You ended up liking and buying another bottle over the years.

“I’m here about Chicago and Buffalo. You’ve read about it, I’m sure,” Will said.

“I’ve read the papers. I can’t clip them. They won’t let me have scissors, of course. You want to know how he’s choosing them,” Hannibal commented. You held up the case file.

“Thought you might have some ideas.”

“You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself Will? Or your wife?” Will let out a sigh.

“I expected more of you, doctor. That routine is old hat.” Hannibal nodded stiffly.

“Whereas you are new people,” Hannibal said. “Let me have the file. An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.” You nodded happily at that, pleased he would help. You shoved the file through the document tray and into the cell. Hannibal came close to collect it.

“Thank you,” Will muttered.

“Family values may have declined over the last century, but we still help our families when we can.” He took the papers. “You’re both family.”

Will grabbed you around the waist, eager to leave. Your eyes lingered on Hannibal’s for a moment longer before you and Will left the room, swallowing his true words.

You looked around Alana’s office. You hadn’t seen it since she had moved in. It looked better than when Chilton had run it. Perhaps that was just because you liked Alana more. The problems you once had with each other had mostly scabbed over. She was maid of honor at your wedding. Interesting, considering the fact you had once fought feverishly over Hannibal.

“It’s good to see you looking well. But I can’t help wishing you weren’t here,” Alana said. She sat on her couch. Her suit was pristine, her hair perfect. You admired her.

“You aren’t the only one,” you commented.

“I was surprised Jack came back in one piece,” she said. You nodded, running a hand over your pants before sitting down on the couch beside her. Will stood up, looking out the window.

“You weren’t the only one,” Will said, turning to both of you.

“How did it feel to see him again?” she questioned. You looked at the ground. Will sat down beside you, in between you and Alana.

“Like Hannibal was looking through to the back of my skull. Felt like a fly flitting around in there. I had the absurd feeling that he walked out with me. Had to stop outside the doors and look around, make sure it was just Y/N,” Will commented.

“I know that feeling. At least Jack Crawford’s pleased.” You pursed your lips but stayed quiet.

“He showed me pictures of the families. I looked at Y/N and couldn’t say no,” he argued.

“Damn my presence,” you joked softly. Will slung his arm around the couch behind you, his fingered brushing your shoulder.

“And Jack was counting on it.”

“Are you still with Margot?” you asked, eager to change the subject. She took a deep breath and nodded, thinking fondly of her wife.

“Yes. We have a baby. A Verger baby. A son,” she said. You smiled. You and Will had talked about kids. You wanted one. You were working for one when Jack spiked both yours and Will’s stress levels.

“Good for Margot,” Will said.

“Good for me. I carried him. He’s my son. He’s the Verger heir.” You smiled.

“Then what are you doing here? You’re set for life,” you pointed out.

“There are only five doors between Hannibal and the outside. And I have the keys to every one of them,” she said. A daily ‘gotcha’ to Hannibal. Will admired that. “Hannibal has never been great with boundaries. ‘He who sups with the Devil needs a long spoon’.”

“I am not letting him in, Alana. Don’t worry about me,” Will said. She looked at you sympathetically.

“Last time, it didn't’ end with you Will.”

“I want you to stay here,” Will said, standing outside Hannibal’s cell door. He hadn’t stepped inside yet. Hannibal could not see him. You scoffed.

“We’ve been over this. I follow you, even if you say no.”

“This time, I mean it. I think I’ll get more out of him if he isn't’ distracted with you.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you aren’t jealous?” He gave you a look. “Fine, fine. Please be quick.”

Will stepped into the room, leaving you outside to wait. Hannibal looked up at him from his desk.

“This is a very shy boy, Will. I’d love to meet him,” Hannibal said. He looked around. “Just us?”

Will nodded.

“Just us.”

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s disfigured? Or that he may believe he’s disfigured?” Hannibal asked.

“That’s interesting.”

“That’s not interesting. You thought of that before.” Will nodded.

“He smashed all the mirrors in the houses, not just enough to get the pieces he wanted. The shards are set so he can see himself. In their eyes. Mrs. Jacobi and Mrs. Leeds. And their families,” Will said. Hannibal pulled out the picture of a dead Mrs. Jacobi.

“Could you see yourself in their eyes, Will? Killing them all?”

Will instantly regretted leaving you outside.

The two boys imagined themselves in the crime scenes, looking across the dead bodies of the families.

“The first small bond to the killer itches and stings like a leech,” Hanibal said. “Like you, Will, he needs a family to escape what’s inside him.” Wills head shot up but he did not look at Hannibal. “You know a fair amount about how these families died. How they lived is how he chooses them.”

“How is he choosing them?” Will asked.

“I was surprised to hear you actually married Y/N. Not because I thought you weren’t a match made in heaven but it made more sense for you to start a family from scratch. No one that had even an inkling of me in their eyes. Find a mom with a stepson or daughter, not having to breed. You know better than to pass the terrible traits that you fear the most,” Hannibal said. Will did not look at him. Hannibal continued. “But Y/N wants children with you. How will you stand to look at a child you may have ruined before they were even born?”

Will desperately wished he hadn’t left you outside.

“Why are there no descriptions of the grounds? I see floor plans, diagrams of the rooms where the deaths occured, no mention of the grounds. What were the yards like?” Hannibal continued, satisfied with how he had shaken Will’s personal life.

“Big, fenced, with trees. Why?”

“If this pilgrim feels a special relationship with the moon, he might like to go outside and look at it before he tidies himself up. If one were nude, say, it would be better to have outdoor privacy for that sort of thing. One must show some consideration for the neighbors, hmmm? Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?”

Will suddenly saw himself in place of the killer, naked, drenched in pitch black blood.

Will snapped back and nodded quickly.

“Thank you Dr. Lecter,” he said before stumbling out of the door. You sat on the outside in one of the waiting chairs. Will looked over at you and seemed to relax but not completely.

“Will?”

He grabbed you and you stood up quickly, hugging him tightly. He buried his head in your neck and you let him, rubbing your back.

“This is why you don’t go without me places,” you muttered. He scoffed but his breathing was already evening again. “What did he say?” He moved back and shook his head softly.

“We’ll talk about it later. I want to see the backyards.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, I suppose.”

He walked out of the asylum, holding your hand tightly. Freddie snapped a couple pictures from the bushes.

“Have you come to wag your finger?” Hannibal asked as Alana entered the room behind him.

“I love a good finger-wagging.”

“Yes, you do. How is Margot?” Alana ignored the remake as she gleaned down at the picture of her as Botticelli’s Fortitude.

“Your cogs are turning, Hannibal. I can hear them clicking.”

“Click, click, click, boom,” he whispered.

“I don’t know what you’re planning with the Grahams. But you’re planning something. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ve already cracked the lid, can’t resist peeling it back.”

Hannibal pursed at the name. Alana noticed this.

“You can’t comment on her last name anymore you know. They’re married. She is, in the eyes of the law, a Graham now.” Hannibal stiffened.

“They came to me,” Hannibal said, ignoring her words.

“Yes, they did.”

“I advised them against it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t have Y/N and Will’s best interests in mind?” he asked. Alana scoffed.

“I’m stating it as a fact.”

You stepped into the room with Hannibal’s cage. He looked up, quite surprised to see you. You held your purse in both hands, stepping closer to the cage.

“Hello love,” he said quietly. You let his words fall off of you like rain. They stayed for a moment, dripping down your arm before hitting the ground. “I don’t imagine you’re here to talk about the murder cases.” You shook your head softly. He walked up to the glass quietly. You stepped close to it, so you were really only a couple of inches apart.

“I came to yell at you,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever for?” You smiled gently and shrugged.

“Lots of things. Firstly, you didn’t kill Jack when you got the chance. I’ll never forgive you for not feeding him to me in soup.” His eyes went wide.

“Careful Y/N. Alana watches these tapes.”

“She would probably agree with me.” You took a deep breath. “Secondly, not coming to my wedding. I know you were otherwise indisposed but I thought it was rather rude.”

“I thought it was rude of you to get married.” You shook your head playfully. The same banter. Joking with a cannibal serial killer. Just another Tuesday.

“Third, I told you to leave.” The air seemed to calm.

“Does Will know you’re here?”

“No. I didn’t tell him.”

“Did he tell you he’s scared of his own children?” You raised a finger, shaking it gently.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Will is no longer my boyfriend I dated a couple of months. He’s my husband. You can’t wedge yourself between us no matter how hard you try.” You wanted to put your hand against the glass but you didn’t. “But I miss you.”

“Where do you work nowadays?” You shrugged.

“I had to get another secretary job but I’ve mostly worked up enough to take this amount of leave. My last employer wasn’t exactly the best reference.” He laughed.

“I suppose you’re right.” He paused. “Eating well?”

“Better. No people in the diet these days.”

“Pity.”

“Will!” You broke Will out of his thoughts. You were standing in the back of the Jacobi house. Will had just found a small sign on one of the trees. He was about to get into it but you had broken him out of his mind. “It’s Freddie.”

Will walked out from the trees and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Now are you just keeping America clean or is that evidence?” Freddie asked.

“You’re trespassing, Freddie,” Will said sternly.

“I was trespassing before the blood dried. When did they call you? Interesting to see The Bloody Valentines back at action. Beautiful ceremony by the way.”

“We aren’t talking to you,” Will said, grabbing your arm. You followed him.

“We’re co conspirators, Will. I did for you and your cause.”

“You didn’t die enough. You came into my hospital room while I was asleep. You flipped back the sheets and shot a picture of my temporary colostomy bag,” Will said, turning to her.

“Covered your junk with a black box. A big black box. You’re welcome,” she said.

“Justly so,” you argued carefully.

“You culled us the ‘murder threesome’. Little crude, don't you think?”

“You did run off to Europe together. Doesn’t help that the two of you ended up getting married. How does the Tooth Fairy compare to Hannibal Lecter? Haven’t seen anything like this since the Massacre at Muskrat Farm. Funny thing about that massacre. Not only did Dr. Bloom survived, she got rich. Lecter’s living in the lap under her care. What kind of arrangement you suppose they have?” Freddie asked.

“A complicated one,” you said sternly.

“Couldn’t be more complicated than your relationship with Hannibal. Both of you. You paid him a visit? Before you lie, know that I know that you did,” she said quickly.

“Good-bye Freddie.”

“I read your note before my office forwarded it to the Grahams,” Jack said, standing in front of Will. Hannibal swallowed, understanding.

“To whet their appetite or yours? You’ve placed him back in the pot and you’re letting him cook.”

“We’re all in this stew together.”

“Arguable considering how close Y/N is to drowning you.”

You stepped into the hotel room where Will was already sitting on the bed. You ran a hand through your hair and let the chilly cold wash over you as you entered the warm room.

“How are the dogs?” he asked.

“Good. The dog sitters said they were missing us but other than that, they’re okay,” you promised. You looked down at the dog that was laying on the ground beside the bed. “She’ll be right at home with them.”

You sat on the bed and Will sat up, putting his arms around you from behind. You smiled about him, happy to see he was feeling better.

“I’m worried about the kids,” he whispered.

“The kids who don’t exist?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah. I don’t want them to end up like me.” You nodded slowly.

“So that’s what Hannibal said that got you worked up.” You took in the information. “If the kid isn’t like you I don’t think I’d be able to love them as much as I love you.”

It was his turn to take in the information.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. I’m serious. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I’ve had the pleasure of loving you Mr. Graham.” He kissed your neck gently and smiled to himself.

“I love you too Mrs. Graham.”

You let out a small sigh of relief.

Will screamed as he sat up quickly, sweating aggressively, blankets flying. You got up just as quickly, turning to him but he had already gotten up, rushing into the bathroom. You followed him, sleep that had just taken you over long gone.

You practically ran up to him. He was looking at himself in the mirror, fear in his eyes at his reflection. You grabbed him quickly and he turned to you, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t speak. You didn’t ask questions. You just held him as close as you could get him.

Nightmares had come back. Neither of you had had those in a while. You rubbed his back and let him breath.

3x10

#will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines

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kiss-my-freckle · 3 years

Photo

As much as he wants Will to kill, Hannibal has a hard time accepting the fact that Will wants to kill him, and attempts to several times.

"Are you a killer, Will?"

His body language shows just how terrified he is. He swallows hard while talking to Will. Hannibal wants him to question if he's really a killer. If he can make Will question that, he can get him to lower his gun.

“Will Graham is not what you think. He's not a murderer."

Same concept with the orderly. Better for Hannibal to make Matthew question who he’s really doing this for. If he can make him question that, he can get him to cut him loose. “He asked you to do this?” He’s so upset that he tells Jack he’s done, then goes to see Will just to threaten Alana.

“If I am the Ripper and you kill me, who will answer your questions?"

Hannibal is so terrified, he can’t even look at Will. He tries to get him to question his innocence. “If I'm not the Ripper, you murder an innocent man." But Will has no reason to question it, so Hannibal offers up his endgame. He knows Will can’t resist. “Don't you want to know how this ends?"

“Mason Verger is a pig, and he deserves to be somebody's bacon.”

Hannibal knows how Will wants it to end with Mason. If Will kills him, he doesn’t stand a chance at getting justice for Margot and his unborn child. That’s why Hannibal has no problem looking into Will’s eyes while he’s got a knife to his throat. He knows Will is gonna cut him loose.

“I have to eat him.”

Hannibal is so upset with Will’s attempt to kill him in Dolce, that he plans to crack his head open and cook him. His plans are interrupted just as Will’s were. The police that came to take them run on the other side of Chiyoh shooting Will.

“You intend to watch him kill me?"

Mason and Francis share the same concept. “Dr. Lecter's the one you want to be feeding to your pigs.” This makes Hannibal question if Will wants Francis to kill him. “Hannibal Lecter is who you need to change." That’s why he asked Will if he was surprised to hear from Francis. He reached out to both of them just as Mason did. Francis had the same endgame in mind. That’s why he speaks to Will about them being suspended over the Atlantic... just as he was suspended over Mason’s pigs.

“He was going to feed you to his pigs... after he fed them me.”

Nothing is as torturous for Hannibal as the man he loves having no other desire than to kill him. That's why Jack has no problem letting him go. Hannibal can handle the physical torture, so he decides he’d rather send Will to do it because he knows how much Hannibal loves him. Will killing Hannibal would answer the question Hannibal asked of Jack. How will he feel once he kills him and he's gone. An elevated form of rejection, Will killing Hannibal.

#Hannibal

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xxgothchatonxx · 2 years

Note

God, I hope the editor didn’t fuck this intro up.

Kō No Mono:

* HANNI STAG KILLED STAG STAG?? OH WHAG IS THRA???

* WILL STAG!!!!

* So we have a birder??

* OH NO BIRDIES!

* He’s SHAKING!!!

* Is that an “I hate that I like it” face or a “NOPE” face?

* These close ups holy fuck

* HE STOLE HIS LINE! HOS DESIGN!

* So Freddie is DEAD DEAD? But that poor hair still!!

* “You must understand that blood & breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your radiance.” He’s so in love.

* Whatever, boyfriends who cannibal together STAY together!

* ON FIRE WHEELCHAIR???

* FREDDIE LOUNDS???

* Love the fire mysticism because y’know…Ginger.

* DAMNNNNNN, MARGOT! Oh the whole gang’s here!

* THEY MUSTVE CUT THAT SCENE IN THE INTOR OR SOMETHING!!

* NO NOT NBC JOKER!!! STAY AWAY FROM THE BOY!

* WHY DOES HE KEEP STEALING TEARS???

* For a fucking martini??? This MOTHERFUCKERRRRR

* Oh sweaty Will! Haven’t seen you in a while!

* Alanaaaaaaaaaa! Still a bit of a bitch, but HI, BABE!

* “Hannibal’s good enough for you.” I WAS GONNA SAY THAT! Great minds think alike!

* A gift? Oh, sure! That works!

* NOT NBC JOKER & HANNI!!!! At least he’s in therapy.

* But like, cartoonishly so. He’s using that uhhh what’s that chair called?? You know the one.

* HANNI LOOKS SO ANNOYED ALREADY!!! Lmaoooo

* “That’s not helpful.” 🤣🤣🤣

* The chair being for decoration, I love it

* Is Alana OH & WILL hiding at the funeral??

* “My Pshycatrist.” Her boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

* You WOULD be a good father, Will! I mean it!

* *gasp* A sister? Mischa.

* “Would you protect this child the way you couldn’t protect Abigail?” Umm, that’s kinda the point, Hanni🙄

* MADS!!!! HIS FACE!!! HIS EYES!! HUGH!!!! HIS EYES!!!!!!

* WOW I LOVE THIS CONVO!!!! I LOVE THEM!!! They balance each other so well!

* ANOTHER BODY?? WITH BUNCH OF ARMS?

* We’re getting very easy asian here. It was hella Shiva to begin with but this is a fun bonus (oh reminds me of a project I did on Shiva!)

* COURTSHIP!!!! LOVE THAT!

* Why does NBC Joker look like he’s wearing a straight jacket?

* Will always looks like he’s gonna cry when he’s talking to HANNI but for DIFFERENT REASONS

* DID WE JUST BREAK THE 180 RULE?? OH I HATE THESE MIRRORS!!!

* “You saw part of her.” BECAUSE YOU FORCED IT DOWN HIS THROAT SO HE COULD BRING IT UP, HANNIBAL!

* Stag Hanni FEATURING ALL THE ARMS

* Ughhhh not this asshole again!

* OH I LOVE HIS WAISTCOAT!

* I love their inverted color schemes😍

* “Are you questioning my therapy?” WE ALL ARE, HANNI!

* I knew it.

* Oh no no no no. A HYSTERECTOMY!

* *sighhhhhhhhh* ALANA!

* For the first time, I’m with Jack.

* “I have no confidence that I know Hannibal Lecter anymore.” GOOD GIRL!

* God, I can’t believe I’m about to say it but: I’m happy to see you, Freddie!

* OH HANNI LOOKS FURIOUS!!!! Will looks like he’s plotting! Amazing!

* Oh right he’s the asshole that ends up in the wheelchair in season 3, right??

* OH BOOOOO DONT END THERE!!!

Mason Verger is now NBC Joker, I love it 😂

Ok so here's a bit of trivia with Freddie and that fakeout. So, in the novel Red Dragon, Freddy Lounds gets brutally murdered by Francis Dolarhyde aka 'the red dragon', and his body (because Freddy is a man in the novel) is set on fire. Bryan Fuller and co. decided "ok we are going to include that brutal death in the show (it's kind of hilarious in the show, ngl 😂) but we are not doing it with our Freddie Lounds because I don't want to put her in that kind of situation" (because it's got a sexual violence element to it and Bryan had the stance of "NOPE! NOT DOING THAT SHIT! IT'S CHEAP HORROR AND IT'S INSULTING TO REAL-LIFE VICTIMS!"). So it's a nice little callback to the novel without doing the whole thing.

Also that entire scene about Mischa was just... god, Mads and Hugh were perfect in these roles!

And yep, our girl Alana is finally waking up.

Two more episodes to goooooo!! (I cannot fucking wait to hear what you have to say about a certain sequence of absolute bonkers scenes in the next episode, because I swear it gets funnier every time I see it 😂)

#myst is me #hannibal #Myst and Nat presents Hanni & Friends

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 2

<- Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 ->

Summary: Chilton is is a dark place.

1,641 words

Ten days. Four surgeries. Twenty grafts. Eleven blood transfusions. Third degree burns to ninety percent of his body. The hospital had never seen anything like it—though Chilton was personally doubling the number of times they’d said that.

He was in and out of the hyperbaric oxygen chamber, the hydrotherapy tub, and in and out of consciousness. His only constant was pain.

Unlike pain, you couldn’t stay with him every hour of the day. You came in early every morning to check on him, though he was usually sleeping, and then after work, sitting with him until he fell asleep again. Sometimes you would only get a few minutes of him awake, he was so exhausted from the surgeries, heavy pain meds, and healing.

You were barely sleeping, and he was barely not sleeping.

When he woke up in the middle of the night screaming, heart monitor throwing a fit, limbs jerking hard enough to tear his grafts, it was to a dark, empty room filled with pale ghosts of plastic flowers. You weren’t there to hold him. Not that you could have held him, anyway.

Oh, how he missed you when you were not there to fill the tedious waking hours. His few other visitors were people he hated.

Dr. Bloom had stopped by once, to see whether she felt any remorse for the part she played in his present agony. In those early days, the horror of his appearance had seemed like a tasteless joke to goad her with.

“Your face did not change at all when you first looked at me,” he rasped. “Shock in seeing me is usually… delayed.”

Look at me! he wanted to shout. Look at what Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter have done. Look what you did, Alana. Look at my face and be shocked, you fucking bastards.

He was shaking by the time she left.

But ten days, and his face was still a thing of nightmares. It made the joke less funny. This was not temporary, it began to sink in, and it was getting harder to maintain his pride. He became less and less comfortable being looked at by anyone. His teeth were bared, dozens of tubes snaked out of him, and he was swollen like a bloated corpse floating down the river.

Layers of cadaver skin were grafted all over his body. He felt like a cadaver. He wished…

When he was with the Dragon he had been so afraid that he was going to die, terrified for his own cowardly life. If he had known what torture surviving meant: protracted, cruel suffering without end…

His entire body was too hot all of the time, inflamed, red, and bleeding. He wasn’t producing enough red blood cells to replace the ones he was constantly losing. Between that and the bloody surgeries to remove dead skin, he had so many transfusions, most of the blood circulating through his veins was not his own.

And the nonstop surgeries were just to keep him alive another day, another hour—the nurses sighed with relief at the beginning of their shifts when they saw he hadn’t dropped dead.

As his skin healed, there would be more surgeries to prevent scar tissue from cutting off circulation to his extremities (he had already lost the tip of his remaining ear) and to allow his joints to move. Then, finally, the cosmetic surgery so he could one day walk about in public without hiding his face. Endless. Protracted. Cruel.

He wished he had died.

Being shot was a pleasure cruise by comparison. Even when his cheek was still tender and his head felt like it was about to split open, you could wrap your arms around his chest and stroke his back in calming circles. You would run your fingers through his hair and massage the tension in his scalp away. He missed his hair. And his scalp. He missed your touch the most.

Even your presence, when you were there, did not cheer him as much as he hoped. He longed for the day he could touch you again, but it was too far on the horizon to be worth much. It wasn’t enough. There was so much pain. He would never not be in pain for the rest of his wretched life. He wanted to die.

He hated everything he lost—everything that had been taken from him. It made him furious enough to keep the blood pumping through his veins when any well-adjusted mortal’s body would have slipped into a coma and let itself pass in peace.

Anger. Anger was the only thing keeping him alive.

***

Your voice was steady, soft, and persistent. Its musical cadence filled the darkness and surrounded him, embracing his dormant senses and sparking them to life with a warm electric hum that cut through the sleepy fog that had been nesting heavily there. He awoke.

“It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.”

He loved the soothing sound of your voice reading to him, but it make him feel like a child. Usually your presence comforted him, made everything better, but now it pulled him into the waking world where everything hurt. How can one find comfort when every inch of one’s skin is screaming? All his mind could focus on was the stab of annoyance at your patronizing tone.

“What is that drivel?” he scolded, crabby mood apparent.

You stopped reading, letting out a small gasp of surprise to find him conscious. You hesitated, moving your eyes avoidantly over the heart monitor, before cautiously answering, “…Frankenstein.”

It had seemed sort of clever when you started, but with his mood worsening all week, perhaps a story about a man who was made so hideous that all of society rejected and feared him was not a good idea.

“Funny.” he said. You winced.

You closed the book and set it in your lap. “How are you feeling?”

His chest rose and he let out a tired bark of laughter. “Wonderful.”

“Fred—”

“My skin is on fire,” he snapped. “My skin has been on fire since I was tortured and burned. Do not waste my time with brainless questions.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, even though it should have been him apologizing. A pang of guilt churned in his intestines. He wanted to take your hand, to pull you down onto the bed, crush your head to his chest, and weep into your hair so you would understand how he felt. But he could not do any of those things. His hands were swaddled in thick gauze mittens, and he had neither the strength nor flexibility to reach out to you—future surgeries would have to add flexibility to the stiff, contracted scar tissue around his joints. And you laying on his chest would not take his pain away like it did in his fantasy. It would be excruciating.

He could just say the words: Sorry for being an asshole. I am in pain, and I am scared, but you do not deserve to be treated poorly. But he didn’t want to, and he was stubborn. Weak.

Guilty silence filled the air between you. His words stung, and under normal circumstances when Frederick was being a dick, you would tell him where to shove it. But he wasn’t snapping at you over a tie he blamed you for losing. He was going through something unimaginable, and it wasn’t your place to get upset. So you threw the hurt into a little bag, and you closed the bag inside a box at the back of your mind. You were the one who spoke first, doing your best to sound cheerful.

“I thought you might be pleased to hear that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter stabbed Francis Dolarhyde—the man who called himself the Red Dragon—to death. He’s gone.”

His heart monitor anxiously beeped with humiliating candor, but he spoke with cold calmness. “Shall I throw a parade in their honor?”

“I just thought you’d want to know, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“Mr. Graham and Hannibal?” he asked pointedly.

You rubbed your arm, turning your head away. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up… but he was bound to hear about it anyway. “The FBI isn’t sure. They never found their bodies.”

“Hannibal Lecter is free?” he wheezed and nearly choked.

Reaching out toward the hospital bed, you placed a hand on Chilton’s bandaged arm that was meant to be calming, but it made him jump in his skin. Deep breaths hissed between his teeth as he tried to get his heart rate under control. When he relaxed a little, you assured him, “If he’s alive, he won’t be coming back here. He was with Will. They’ll be running away together.”

He made a show of grumbling with contemplative hostility. “Killing me would only relieve my suffering; they will be pleased to leave me as I am. We have nothing to fear from them.” He was afraid anyway, but he did not need to admit that. Pathetic. Weak. “But the Tooth Fairy is dead?” he added bitterly, emphasizing the killer’s hated sobriquet.

“The medical examiner said it was slow and painful.”

That drew a satisfied little noise from beneath the bandages. The torn edges of his mouth were smirking.

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #raúl esparza #burn recovery #hannibal #post-canon #my writing #grumpy freddy #can u blame him

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hannibal-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Why Not Spend Your Lock-Down with Dr. Hannibal Lecter?

By Shannon L. Christie

You are cordially invited to spend your lock-down, dining in the company of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Reception

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is one of thee most iconic fictional literary villains, created in the 20th Century; Hollywood films has cemented his iconic status and his transformation into the 21st Century, via network television, has been carefully crafted under the watchful eye of executive producer, Martha De Laurentiis.

Hannibal Lecter sprang from the mind of novelist Thomas Harris; Lecter has been in our lives for almost 40 years; introduced with the publication of Red Dragon in October 1981; he has never left our consciousness for too long.

So where does one start?

Do you read the 4 novels, watch the 5 movies or the TV Series?

Do I start at the beginning with Harris's novel, Red Dragon?

There are several ways to feast upon Hannibal Lecter: read Harris' novels first: watch the movies and then dine on the TV Series; read the novels, watch the corresponding movies and then the TV Series; watch the TV Series and then go back, watch the movies and read the novels. Whatever way you decide, you will not be disappointed at the end of your feast!

The following menu outline would be my suggestion for how to feast upon the sumptuous offerings of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Amuse-bouche

In this course we are served small bit-sized morsels of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Red Dragon: Thomas Harris, 1981

Will Graham, a former FBI Special Agent with an instinct for profiling, is sucked back into consulting for the FBI on their latest serial murder case; involving the Tooth Fairy. Will's been living a quiet life in Florida with his wife and son, when his former boss, Jack Crawford visits, enticing Graham back into the game. In order to get that old scent back; Graham needs to get into the mindset of a killer, so he visits Dr. Hannibal Lecter at The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, where Lecter is serving 9 consecutive life terms for murder. Graham was the FBI Agent who finally caught Hannibal and it almost cost him his life and sanity.

Interesting Fact: Harris attended portions of Ted Bundy's trial for the Chi Omega Murders in Florida. The Prosecutors in the Bundy trial used bite marks left on one of his victims as evidence. Dolarhyde left bite marks on Mrs. Leeds, which allowed forensics to create dental impressions, creating a sample of Dolarhyde's teeth.

Manhunter: Directed by Michael Mann, 1986

Manhunter was written and directed by Michael Mann; starring William Petersen (Will Graham), Dennis Farina (Jack Crawford), Tom Noonan (Francis Dollarhyde, film spelling/Red Dragon/Tooth Fairy), Joan Allen (Reba McClane) Brian Cox (Hannibal Lecktor, film spelling).

Manhunter is now considered a cult classic; at the time of it's original release it fared poorly at the box office and met with mixed reviews. It's cult status may be partially due to the continuing saga of Hannibal Lecter and William Petersen's success in CSI. The film touches on many of the important elements of the novel and also misses on quite a few. What is Dolarhyde's motive? The movie is dated with a definite 80's Michael Mann vibe; in spite of that it is definitely worth a watch for Noonan's performance.

Interesting Fact: Film Producer Dino De Laurentiis purchased the movie rights to the novel Red Dragon in 1983.

Red Dragon: Directed by Brett Ratner, 2002

This is where I'll skip ahead and talk about Manhunter's remake, Red Dragon. You can either choose to watch Red Dragon here or move it to after Hannibal to watch in order of release – entirely up to you.

Dino De Laurentiis passed on the movie rights to The Silence of the Lamb, due to the poor showing of Manhunter at the box office. So when The Silence of the Lambs was critically acclaimed by the critics; a huge box office success; winning the top 5 categories at the 1992 Oscars; Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress and Best Adapted Screenplay – Dino wanted another serving of Hannibal Lecter.

When Harris released his third Lecter novel, simply titled Hannibal, Dino De Laurentiis picked up the rights and saw this as an opportunity to remake Manhunter, this time using the book title, Red Dragon, especially considering the success of Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter. In fact, Red Dragon was released in theatres a year after Hannibal.

Lecter's role was beefed up with a few added scenes; Lecter enjoying the symphony with the exception of the violinist; experiencing one of Lecter's sinfully delicious dinner parties of the music council with the violinist as the main course; seeing the tete-a-tete played out between Lecter and Graham (Edward Norton) that nearly cost them both their lives.

Dolarhyde's (Ralph Fiennes) abusive childhood is explored, the motivation for his heinous crimes against families. We see more of the relationship between Dolarhyde and Reba (Emily Watson) and Dolarhyde's struggle to keep the monster at bay. Ted Tally wrote the screenplay (he wrote The Silence of the Lambs screenplay and passed on the Hannibal screenplay); he has a great sense of what is essential to the narration of a well conceived movie, without loosing too much of the original story told by Thomas Harris.

I am partial to Red Dragon over Manhunter for that reason; I love Ralph Feinnes portrayal of Dolarhyde; he's creepy without being overtly creepy like Noonan is in Manhunter. Anthony Hopkins plays Hannibal Lecter beautifully as he always does. There are a few flaws in this version though, namely Edward Norton's portrayal of Will Graham. I love Norton – I just think he was wrong for the part and the bleached blonde hair drove me mad. I also have issue with Harvey Keitel as Jack Crawford, I just didn't get an FBI Special Agent in charge of the Behavioral Science Unit vibe from him. Keitel is the guy you bring in to rough up your suspect. On the plus side, the crime scenes are more graphic than in Manhunter, which I feel is essential to understanding the severity of the need to capture this fiend, because now he has a taste for it and he will not stop!

Interesting Fact: Dino De Laurentiis had to make a deal with MGM, so the shot of The Baltimore State Hospital building used in The Silence of the Lambs, could be used in Red Dragon, as the building had been demolished.

Dinner

Appetizer

In this course we are treated to petite, rich tasty morsels of Hannibal Lecter,

both of the hot and cold variety.

The Silence of the Lambs: Thomas Harris, 1988

The follow up novel to Red Dragon, Harris' third novel, Lecter was not a character Harris intended to use; he just showed up one day as Harris wrote. The Silence of the Lambs was the story of a young female FBI agent in training; female agents were a relatively new concept at Quantico. J. Edgar Hoover had died in 1972 and the FBI slowly started to drag itself into the modern age and out of the Mafia/Prohibition dark ages that it was founded on. Harris' story of Clarice Starling was an exploration of an agent in training along with a manhunt, headed by Jack Crawford, for a serial killer, only known as “Buffalo Bill”; who abducted girls, held them hostage for a few days; shot them in the heads, dumped their bodies in rivers; having partially skinned them post mortem. The FBI is stumped, they have no motive, no pattern and no connections between the victims. What should they do? Crawford sends Clarice Starling, an agent in training to interview Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

The Silence of the Lambs: Directed by Jonathan Demme, 1991

As I previously mentioned, Dino de Laurentiis passed on acquiring the movie rights for The Silence of the Lambs; the rights ended up in the hands of Demme and Orion Films, without a fee paid to De Laurentiis. The screenplay was written by Ted Tally, who managed to highlight all the important aspects of the novel, creating a balanced story. The movie starred Jodie Foster (Clarice Starling), Glenn Scott (Jack Crawford), Anthony Heald (Dr, Frederick Chilton), Ted Levine (Jame Gumb/Buffalo Bill) and Anthony Hopkins (Hannibal Lecter),

Interesting Fact: Anthony Hopkins on screen performance of Hannibal Lecter, consisting of only sixteen minutes earned him an Oscar for Best Actor in 1992.

Entree

This course is a hearty and meaty dish of Hannibal Lecter, served with delicate red sauce.

Hannibal: Thomas Harris, 1999

Would Harris write another Lecter novel? As we eagerly waited to see – making us wait 10 long years, Harris' reward was Hannibal; a story centred around Dr. Hannibal Lecter. I think many people weren't prepared for the monster to be uncaged. It was bloodier and gorier than the previous two films and quite sadistic. Manhunter and The Silence of the Lambs were considered psychological thrillers with a dollop of horror. Hannibal was a full on horror novel with a dollop of psychological thriller. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was free of his cage, just in-time for the new millennium and some readers were not happy.

When the novel, Hannibal, was released, many critics and readers were appalled by the goriness of it (we are talking about a man who kills people and eats them). I guess once the layers of the onion were peeled away; culture, music, art, culinary skills, courteousness – they were horrified by the monster at the centre – that was the point. Serial killers show society a veneer of acceptable personality traits; they keep the monster hidden away, until he breaks through and comes out to play. In that sense, the novel Hannibal, is spot on. He's your neighbour, your friend, your husband, your father, your brother and sometimes your son (The majority of serial killers are male, sorry guys). He wears a symbolic mask in public, to prevent you from guessing how sick and perverted he truly is.

Harris' novel, Hannibal, was the perfect GOTCHA moment! Harris had led us into a false sense of security; either intentionally or unintentionally, with Lecter's intro in Red Dragon; sure he tells Francis Dolarhyde to kill Graham's family – In The Silence of the Lamb; Lecter is so helpful trying to advance Clarice Starling's career; sure he kills several people while escaping from custody; we'll just chalk that up to acceptable carnage.

We start to rationalize that Lecter can't be all bad; he must have some redeeming qualities: he's a man of sophisticated tastes; he's knowledgeable; an incredible chef; a great musician and artist. We don't even mind knowing that he dined on Dr. Chilton, upon his escape; possibly thinking Chilton had it coming.

Harris let us peek briefly behind the curtain in Red Dragon and The Silence of the Lambs and perhaps Harris was dismayed to learn that upon the popularity of Hopkins portrayal of Hannibal Lecter; he'd become a pop culture icon and somewhat of a hero. Hannibal shattered that illusion.

We find Clarice Starling, 10 years later, working as an FBI Special Agent, in a stagnate career. She can't advance; being blocked by Paul Krendler.

Hannibal has been living in Florence as the curator of the Palazzo Capponi as Dr. Norman Fell (the real Dr. Fell disappeared under mysterious circumstances). Florence, Italy, the ideal spot for Lecter, a true Renaissance man. We discover there has been a string of murders by the fiend, know as Il Mostro.

Meanwhile, Mason Verger, Lecter's 4th victim, is on the hunt for Dr. Lecter, who left Mason disfigured, although technically by Mason's own hand. Verger has offered a $3,000,000 reward for information leading to the capture of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Interesting Fact: Thomas Harris attended the trial of The Monster of Florence, Pietro Pacciani, in 1994, incorporating some of the aspects of the crimes into his Hannibal novel and hinting that Hannibal himself was Il Mostro (The Monster of Florence).

Hannibal: Directed by Ridley Scott, 2001

If some readers were unhappy with the novel, there were those unhappy about the production of a movie in the same vain. Ted Tally didn't want to write the screenplay, Foster didn't want to reprise her role as Starling and Demme wasn't interested in directing. The consensus was it was too graphic and gory and they wanted no part of it; a complete turnaround; they initially were chomping at the bit to be involved in the follow-up to The Silence of the Lambs.

Interesting Fact: Dino De Laurentiis was under the impression that given a good story even he could play Clarice Starling.

The extra dinner course you never needed; you were already full.

Hannibal Rising: Thomas Harris, 2006

From all accounts that I've read, Harris was gently coerced into writing Hannibal Rising. Dino De Laurentiis wanted an origin story to turn into a film and he'd do it with or without Harris. Harris eventually caved and produced the fourth Lecter novel, Hannibal Rising.

Harris uses the hardships of WWII as the starting backdrop for the development of young Lecter's transformation into “Hannibal the Cannibal”. This is perhaps a story that never needed to be told. We were given glimpses in the novel Hannibal that never made it into the movie and perhaps that was a mistake; not seeing the humanity in Hannibal before events unfolded to create a monster and he is a monster, however refined his tastes are. It would have made a good contrast to the harshness of Lecter's grotesque and sadistic actions in Hannibal; that's where a good screenplay, might have made a difference. Francis Dolarhyde, Jame Gumb and Hannibal Lecter weren't born evil, they were shaped and moulded by their harsh experiences as young, innocent, impressionable children. Monsters aren't born, they are made – the moral of the stories. The difference being Hannibal always took responsibility for his actions, never placing the blame at someone else’s feet.

Hannibal Rising: Directed by Peter Webber, 2007

This time Harris would be involved, writing the screenplay for the Hannibal Rising movie. While I enjoyed Gaspard Ulliel as a young Hannibal, I felt that the story was unnecessary.

And just when you thought that was all and Hannibal Lecter's story had been narrated from beginning to end; Lecter was resurrected in 2013 for Bryan Fuller's TV Series, titled Hannibal, for three seasons on NBC.

Dessert

A delicate balance of psychiatry, culinary skills, food porn, relationships, sex, beauty, horror

and murder tableaus, like the layers of a sinful Double Chocolate Torte.

Hannibal TV Series: Developed by Bryan Fuller, 2013-2015

I know what you're going to say; there's no way I'm watching a Hannibal TV show without Hopkins on NBC! Whether your a Cox fan or a Hopkins fan; they both played the part in their own style and both performances are top notch. Hopkins had a little more to sink his teeth into with The Silence of the Lambs; as the screen time was slightly longer than in Manhunter.

I was stubborn too! I didn't watch Hannibal during the originally airing for season one or two. I remember catching a glimpse of an episode as I was on my way out to photograph a band; I was a live music photographer for around three years, so many of my Friday nights were spent in Toronto. It was the episode with the horse and the coffin-birth, which ultimately left an impression. So in January 2015 I binge watched season one and two (26 episodes) in only two days; I couldn't stop watching!

There's been a string of missing girls attributed to one person, known as “The Minnesota Shrike” and the FBI are struggling for leads. Upon the eighth girls disappearance, Jack Crawford (Laurence Fishburne) walks into Will Graham's (Hugh Dancy) classroom to request his help. Graham has the unique ability to empathize with narcissits and sociopaths and as he states, it has less to do with a personality disorder and more to do with an active imagination. Dr. Bloom expresses her concerns to Jack Crawford about using Will Graham for his special gifts and recommends keeping an eye on him; suggesting a colleague of hers, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Bryan Fuller's adaption uses Red Dragon as the main source material, with additional material from Hannibal and Hannibal Rising; expanding characters stories and switching some genders to give it a less male dominated cast. Characters like Margot Verger, who were left out of the Hannibal movie are slotted back in to give the Mason Verger story more substance. Cordell, Verger's valet and cook, is far cheekier in the TV series. Dr. Alan Bloom is transformed into Dr. Alana Bloom and Freddy Lounds, once played by the amazing Philip Seymour Hoffman becomes Freddie Lounds played by Lara Jean Chorostecki, who plays her less sleazy and yet still despicable.

Interesting Fact: Bryan Fuller incorporated some of the forward written by Harris in Red Dragon about his experience writing the novel.

Whipped Fresh Creme & a Cherry On-top!

Hannibal Fan Fiction

Season 3 of Hannibal ends on a cliff hanger and unfortunately NBC cancelled the show without a resolution. Not to worry, there is a buffet of Hannibal Fan Fiction out there for you to sink your teeth into. Hannibal fan fiction spans the spectrum of General Audience to NC-17 to pornographic; there is something to suit everyone's taste. If you don't find anything pleasing; you can always write your own fan fiction!

Interesting Fact: Some of the cast members have read Hannibal fan fiction.

Hannibal Fan Art

The amazing thing about the Hannibal fandom, whether you're old school or new school; there is incredible artwork to explore created by incredibly talented artists.

Interesting Fact: Bryan Fuller and the De Laurentiis Company are not dicks about copyright infringement, when it comes to fan art and fan fiction.

Hannibal Conventions

Red Dragon Con by Starfury: An all Hannibal Con in London, England.

Fannibal Fest: An all Hannibal Con with location tours in Toronto, Canada.

Sofa-Con by Fannibal Fest: Due to the lock-down situation around the world because of Covid-19 all conventions were cancelled in 2020. Fannibal Fest set of some Zoom meetings with guests that starred or worked on Hannibal.

There are several Hannibal fandom groups all over different parts of the world; who meat-up to dine and discuss their favourite topic, Hannibal. I am part of a GTA Fannibal group that centres around Toronto, Canada and we’ve met several times.

So, as we finish our dining experience with Dr. Hannibal Lecter; we'll eagerly anticipate another invitation to Lecter's dinner table, as a guest or if you're unspeakably rude, perhaps you'll be the main course; either way I'll meet or eat you there!

Shannon L. Christie

aka Hannibal_Obsessed

#hannibal #fannibals #hannibalobsessed #hannibalthecannibal #madsmikkelsen #hanniballecter #theofficialmads #thisismydesign #willgraham #hughdancy #anthonyhopkins #the silence of the lambs #red dragon #hannibal rising

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meteora-writes · 4 years

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We Could Be Perfect One Last Night

Fandom: Hannibal Pairing: Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter Warnings: Blood, Description of Gunshot and Stab Wounds, Hypothermia, Breaking and Entering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Injury Recovery Description: The water is freezing. Sucking the very life out of him as Hannibal swims to the surface. He sees Will close by, unconscious, and goes to him. Wraps an arm around him and begins to swim to the best of his abilities towards the shore. He's not sure he can make it. Weak from bloodless and the fight with Francis Dolarhyde. But he's going to try. Chapter: 1 - Die Like Star-crossed Lovers Authors Notes: So I finished the show and the muses popped up in my head screaming at me to write this so that’s what I did instead of sleeping the other night. Fic and Chapter titles come from the song Our Lady Of Sorrows by MCR. Read on AO3

~~~~~

Jack Crawford is the first agent on the scene.

He had expected the blood. The broken glass. The signs of a difficult struggle.

What he hadn’t expected was to find only a single corpse waiting for him when he arrived at Hannibal Lecter’s hidden little home by the sea.

Francis Dolarhyde lays torn and bloodied in the center of the little courtyard that stands between the back of the house from the cliff’s edge. Blood pooled around him like great terrible wings spread in flight. It only holds his attention for a moment before he continues his search for who he’s really interested in finding now that he knows the Dragon is dead.

“WILL! WILL CAN YOU HEAR ME?” he yells into the night, hoping the other man is still close by. The pool of blood surrounding Dolarhyde is already looking as though it’s frozen solid to the ground. It’s been a particularly cold night, and the wind off the ocean is amplifying its effects. Meaning he has no idea how long it’s been since Dolarhyde was killed. It could have been twenty minutes, or two hours ago for all he knows without more information from the forensics team.

Quick footsteps alert Jack of the other agents approaching from all sides. “Fan out! I want people searching the woods and the beaches nearby. And get an ambulance here, now. Both Graham and Lecter are likely injured and will require medical attention when we find them!” he orders as he follows thick trails of blood as well as a few bloodied shoe prints to the edge of the cliff. He looks down, shining a flashlight for a little extra illumination along with that provided by the slowly setting full moon. There’s no sign of any bodies in the water below, or on the rocks along the foot of the cliff that are peeking up from the water as the tide moves out. So that’s something at least.

“Sir, the dash-cam of the squad car was left recording this whole time,” an agent says as they approach from inside the house with cautious steps, trying not to disturb the scene of broken glass and bloody carpet.

“And?” Jack glances back at him, waiting for the agent to elaborate on the importance of that information.

“We’re pulling the footage now. The car had been positioned to get a full view of the house on camera. If they left on foot we’ll have an idea as to which way they went at the very least.” The agent looks nervous, knowing the alternative to leaving would be falling from the cliff into the freezing water below. This time of year that’s most definitely a death sentence. And with blood loss and possibly severe injuries on top of the freezing cold? A man wouldn’t stand a chance.

Jack nods his understanding and holsters his gun at last as he looks again at the blood that’s covering the ground. Streaks and pools of it cover the spacious courtyard. More than could have come from Dolarhyde alone if he had to guess. He definitely injured Will and Hannibal in their struggle. The question is, was it fatal for them as well, or only Dolarhyde?

~~~~~

Hannibal gasps for breath as he finally feels sand beneath his feet.

The water is so bitterly cold that he can barely feel his own body, let alone Will’s where he drags it with him through the churning waves of stinging saltwater.

Will went unconscious as they feel from the cliff. Maybe even before that. Hannibal isn’t quite sure. What he is sure of, is that the nearest house is still half a mile down the beach from where they’ve come ashore. And FBI agents will be arriving at his beach-side home sooner than later most likely, leaving no time to waste.

With a pained hiss, he pulls Will’s prone form onto the shore with him. Laying him out in the frigid night air a moment before mustering what strength he can in his sluggishly numb extremities and hauling him up into a carry with much more difficulty than he cares to admit to himself. Then, he walks, Will’s head tucked under his chin in a way that lets the blood still flowing from his mouth run down and be absorbed by their clothes. Keeping him from choking on it.

The waterfront homes in the area are empty along this particular stretch of the Chesapeake this time of year. It is both a boon and a curse upon their fortunes, as the odds of them getting away are contingent on what he finds in the nearest dwelling.

Turning his head, Hannibal can see the cliff that his old summer home sits upon. Sees the faint light that comes from the courtyard to cast out into the dark bluish-black of the night. The breeze picks up, sending an uncontrollable shiver through him, and he turns away to continue the difficult trudge through the sand. Will is heavy in his arms. Breathing shallowly as he too shivers almost violently from the harsh bite of winter, it’s effects no doubt amplified by blood loss.

The cottage they come to is smaller than his own. Tucked back into trees that block it from the view of his own dwelling less than a mile away. There are wooden lounge chairs set out in the back yard where it faces the water, and he rests Will on his side on one before searching for a key or some other means of entering the dwelling with as little disturbance to their surroundings as possible. He would prefer not to break anything if at all possible. Too likely to draw attention if any agents wander through searching for them.

The moonlight makes his search easier than expected, as it gleams off the shiny metal of a hidden key tucked under the rocking chair he tips over by the front door. Taking care, he rips off a piece of cloth from his ruined shirt and uses it to take the key and unlock the door.

To his surprise, the electricity is on when he tries the light switch. He grabs Will from the cold of the outside and lays him down on the sheet-covered couch before he moves to turn on just enough lights to see by without making it obvious someone is in the home to any passersby. \

He finds the door to the furnace, thankful it’s a simple electric one with a power switch. He gets that running before going to retrieve Will from where he set him on the couch.

They’re both hypothermic. Soaked to the bone with their clothes frozen to their skin in places thanks to the harsh bite of the ocean breeze. And worse yet, they’re both still bleeding sluggish from their wounds.

So, Hannibal does the rational thing to help them both warm up quickly. He finds towels and what clean clothes he can that might fit either of them. Once they’re gathered, and with increasing difficulty, he picks Will up once again and sets him in the tub before turning on the shower as hot as it will go.

Will doesn’t so much as flinch at the feel of the almost scalding spray hitting him. Body still shaking from the cold in his unconscious state. Hannibal watches him a moment before kicking off his shoes and picking him up just enough to climb into the tub behind him.

It’s uncomfortable at best. Too small a space for two men of their size to really fit together. But discomfort is worth it as the warmth quickly starts to seep into both of their extremities. It burns fiercely as it does so. Nerves flaring back to life where they had been shut down from the cold in the on-setting hypothermia.

Hannibal finds he somewhat likes the sensation. It distracts him ever so slightly from the pain in his side where the bullet went clean through him. And from his worries for Will, whom he now holds a cloth to the face of to staunch the bleeding where he had been stabbed just below his right eye. The blade clearly went in at an angle. Going through the bones and down to come out the roof of his mouth.

They stay in the all-consuming warmth of the water until Will’s shivering completely stops and the room fills with so much steam that breathing becomes almost difficult.

That’s when Hannibal finally reaches out and shuts off the spray, much to the protest of his aching body. He wants more than anything to simply close his eyes and join Will in unconsciousness. But that would be foolish. And likely deadly to one, if not both, of them.

He leaves Will in the tub, curled on his side with his head propped on the edge, and drags himself out onto the cool tiled floor. His capability for focus and rational thought is dwindling. He knows he needs to act quickly. They’ve both lost far too much blood and need more than just a few cloths pressed to the wounds to stop the flow.

There’s a sewing kit in the small linen closet next to the bathroom door. That along with the first aid kit from under the sink provide him just enough supplies for what he needs.

He strips Will of his sodden clothes first. Assessing the wound on his shoulder as well as the one in his mouth. He doesn’t have the tools needed to close that one. But he has enough gauze to pack the side of Will’s mouth for now. He does so and then stitches his cheek quickly and efficiently before moving on to his shoulder.

When he’s done he does the same with himself. The entrance wound on his back is clearly one he can’t stitch himself, the angle is just too difficult even for someone uninjured to attempt, but the exit wound on his abdomen is one he can close himself. He does his best to apply a makeshift pressure bandage to his back before wrapping an ace bandage around his waist tightly. When Will wakes later he can talk him through stitching the wound on his back, but for now, the bandage will have to do.

Glancing down at Will from his place seated on the edge of the tub, Hannibal wonders if he will try to kill him upon waking. If he’ll try to turn him over to Jack Crawford like he’s planned to in the past. Based on how the evening turned, he doesn’t see that as likely. Not after the way Will looked at him. Held him close as they both stood soaked in blood in the brilliant moonlight.

He doesn’t dwell on that train of thought long. His body feels heavy with exhaustion. So he gets changed into a dry shirt and a pair of slacks he found before hauling Will out onto a towel on the bathroom floor. He would rather take him into one of the bedrooms, give him a more comfortable place to rest, but it’s just too difficult to move him any further. So he gets Will dried off as best he can before getting him into a soft t-shit and worn jeans that are a hair too big for him.

Feeling the last of his energy leaving him quickly, Hannibal drags himself over to the linen closet once more, pulls out a thick blanket he finds there, and drags it back over to Will. He shows no sign of waking any time soon, so he might as well try to make him comfortable here. If not for Will’s take then his own.

Hannibal does his best to get Will covered in the heavy duvet, his head resting on a towel as a makeshift pillow.

With a small smile at what he’s managed to accomplish despite his own injuries dragging him down, he collapses beside Will a moment later, one hand still holding the blanket as the world goes dark and unconsciousness takes him.

Read Chapter 2

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal x will #will x hannibal #will graham x hannibal lecter #Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham #angst #fluff #post canon #blood #hannibal lecter #will graham #murder husbands #we could be perfect one last night

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adamwatchesmovies · 3 years

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The First Deadly Sin (1980)

I gave The First Deadly Sin a chance. For a while, I embraced it despite the flaws. I tolerated the slow pace, believing it was deliberate; a way to build up tension. I liked Frank Sinatra as the veteran cop but eventually, I had to cave. The movie's dull.

Detective Edward Delaney (Sinatra) is weeks away from retirement when he notices a strange series of murders. He becomes determined to get to the bottom of things despite the higher-ups urging him to relax and wait it out until retirement, and his wife (Faye Dunaway) lying in the hospital, slowly dying.

This is a generic "serial killer" meets “the veteran cop’s last job” thriller but in slow motion. Delaney goes around picking up clues and slowly piecing things together while a killer we don’t care about bides his time. Meanwhile, you're (at best) mildly interested in whether Faye Dunaway’s character will ever get out of bed. You're not anxious wondering who the next victim will be. You're not horrified by the murders. There's no reason why this movie needs to be 112 minutes long.

To keep myself invested in this review, I'll shine a spotlight on some of the bizarre and unfortunate choices that drag this film down. Firstly, the killer is not interesting. Think of some great serial killers we've seen on the silver screen. The guy from Seven; Hannibal Lecter and Francis Dollarhyde from Red Dragon; even Jigsaw or that creep from The Cell. They all have two things in common. First, they have an identity. Even if they don’t have a name, something about their methodology makes them stand out. You wonder what makes them tick. There’s nothing to the sinner in this picture. He kills with a mountain-climbing hammer and then cries about it. Big deal. I was more interested in why the camera was constantly obscuring his face than his mental state. David Dukes (who plays the killer) isn’t a cop working next to our hero or someone visiting his elderly mother in the room next to Delaney’s wife’s; his identity is not a twist, so why pretend like he's hiding in plain sight?

Another problem is our lead. Compare this film's cop on the edge of retirement to the one in Seven. Morgan Freeman's character was partnered up with a newcomer. Why? Because old men like Frank Sinatra don't do well in chases or fight scenes. You know exactly how their final confrontation will end because there's no way this detective could go toe-to-toe with anyone, least of all a lunatic who works out and kills people compulsively.

While your curiosity might be peaked enough by the mystery to keep you going, the side characters are the best part of the film. Delaney is helped by a number of interesting men and women while on the case, including a coroner who isn’t very excitable, even when it comes to dead bodies being exhumed (James Whitmore), a victim’s widow (Brenda Vaccaro), and a museum curator who really wants to help the investigation (David Dukes). They bring excitement to the table by serving as backdoor resources for our hero who is cut-off by his superior at the police headquarters.

In the end, the dramatic moments fell flat because I didn’t care about the characters. Many scenes are supposed to be heart-wrenching but add nothing to this bloated plot. This was Sinatra’s final performance. It's not an embarrassing choice but the picture's a letdown. No one cares about this movie and you can tell by the bare-bones DVD release it's received. Not even subtitles or a trailer! I've got to throw extra tomatoes at those who put together the cover. It gives away a large chunk of the mystery! The first few scenes do too (meaning you're sitting there waiting for everyone else to catch up) but that's beside the point. The First Deadly Sin is completely forgettable. (Fullscreen version on DVD, June 16, 2015)

#TheFirstDeadlySin #movies #films #reviews #movieReviews #FilmReviews #FilmCriticism #BrianG.Hutton #SerialKillerMovies #MannRubin #FrankSinatra #FayeDunaway #JamesWhitmore #DAvidDukes #BrendaVaccaro #MartinGabel #ANthonyZerbe #1980movies #1980films

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crimetattle-arc · 4 years

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a sloppy timeline .

s1. our introduction to freddie shows her as self serving, she breaks into the shrike’s nest, uploading multiple photographs of the untampered crime scene before anyone else can. gaining herself an exclusive advantage. she uses agent zeller to get information about graham. ( as well as information about the shrike’s nest most likely. ) she shows her distaste for will, writing a smear campaign against him, and the competence of the fbi. she then meets will, and furthers her stance on his instability, after a meeting with abigial, as he threatens : it isn’t very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living.

she lies to protect agent zeller, putting the blame on detective pascal during the mushroom murders, this results in pascal being fired, when he comes to her hotel to confront lounds, paul stammets shoots pascal in the back of the head at close range, before asks about will graham. ( this that could, inadvertently / subconsciously further her distaste toward will as it connects him to her trauma. )

she meets up with nick boyle for an interview, and informs him that abigial is alive / has just been released from the hospital. her motivation being unclear. ( this inadvertently leads to the murder of nicholas boyle. )

freddie is escorted off the hobb’s property by local police. in passing she mentions she isn’t the only trespasser, offering quid pro quo, an interview for information.

later in the season, she works with the fbi and alana bloom in order to interview abel gideon, writing that he is the chesapeake ripper even when jack and co allude to the idea he isn’t, in order to bring the real ripper out of hibernation. a mix of her desperation to be recognized as a real reporter, and her skewed moral compass, as this article could have gotten others killed. ( which everyone in the room is guilty of. )

during the course of this season, she is invited to hannibal’s home to have dinner with him, graham and abigial hobbs as she has begun helping the young girl to write a book describing her life with her father, and her perspective during his killings.

she is eventually lured into a trap by abel gideon pretending to be a psychiatrist wanting to work with her on a paper, which results in her being kidnapped by gideon, and forced to write articles about his murders as he commits them. this is when witnesses the mutilation of chilton. when gideon leaves her and fredrick in the observatory, she has a chance to flee, and every chance to do so in her panic, instead she waits with chilton, pumping air into his lungs to keep him alive.

will is arrested for the suspected murder of abigail hobbs.

s2. further proving her distaste for will, she testifies against him, saying abigail had told her she was afraid of will, which may or may not have been true. it is revealed during this trial, she has been sued for libel six times, and has settled each time. making her statements unreliable.

an anonymous tip leads fred back to the observatory where she and chilton had been held captive in the season prior, here he learn freddie has begun carrying a gun, it is also where she finds the vertically section body of fbi agent beverly katz, displayed in tableau. she photographs the scene before calling the fbi, outside of the observatory she runs to intercept jack crawford, begging him to send someone else inside, and warning that “she’s one of your’s.” will is called to the crime scene, and freddie snaps a few pictures of him in restraints.

she takes a handful of candid photos of hannibal lecter as he is seen leaving the baltimore state hospital for the criminally insane. they have a short and ultimately unimportant conversation, during which freddie admits she is there to interview will at his request. he offers her the exclusive rights to his story in exchange for the interview which is a calling card, a way for will to get in touch with a copycat killer, drawing his attention to graham.

the next appearance of freddie is after will is released from the bsh, she is investigating graham’s house, breaking into the barn where she finds the animal suit and ( after picking the lock of his deep freezer ) the jaw of randall tier. slamming the freezer closed, she finds will watching her from the other side, after a short and rather one sided conversation, freddie fires a warning shot, causing will to duck back behind the freezer, she attempts to flee. as she runs, will manages to catch her by a handful of hair, pulling her back, she accidentally fires a second shot toward the ceiling of the barn, dropping the gun in their struggle, graham slams her against a metal shelving unit, giving her a bloody nose. fred does however, manage to mace will, giving her another chance to flee, he blindly attempts to catch her, pulling out a handful of her hair as she manages to momentarily escape.

she attempts to call crawford while running back to the safety of her car, she manages to make it into the jeep, locking the door and starting it before will catches up, breaking the car’s window with a tire iron, and forcefully pulling the struggling lounds through it. that night, graham has dinner with lecter, claiming the meat is “long pig” and alluding to the idea it could be lounds.

alana bloom and will are seen at freddie’s funeral service.

in the next episode it is revealed that freddie is in hiding, conspiring with the fbi in an attempt to catch lecter.

s3. freddie is not seen until the second arc, she is apparently well established in her field and doing rather well after the publishing of her book lounds is married to wendy “windy city” lounds, an ecdysiast she met some time between this season and season two.

freddie catches will leaving the bsh where hannibal is imprisoned, and again at a crime scene where he berates her for trespassing and writing that he and hannibal were co-conspiritors, freddie apparently coined the term murder husbands. he refuses to give her a statement. she responds by pointing out that they did run off to italy together.

it is revealed that tattle crime has inspired the toothfairy to contact lecter, meaning he regularly reads the articles. this prompts will and crawford to call in a favor, needing her help in getting the tooth fairy’s attention. she interviews both graham and chilton who describe francis as ugly, impotent and the product of incest, the idea being to anger him to the point he may make a mistake. ( contrary to the novel ) it prompts him to disfigure and burn chilton in freddie’s place.

#i did glance at the wiki for this #but the entire section for s1 #is done from memory #asdfghf #* ⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 ❮ 005 ❯ ━━ ❝ DOSSIER !

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eldritchsurveys · 3 years

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1100.

5k Survey LXXXV

4351. Courtney love or Madonna: musically? personality wise? looks? >> I have no preference. Neither particularly appeals to me. 4352. Do you have a negative attitude towards the opposite sex? >> No? 4353. Can you imagine anything that would seriously improve the world? >> I’m sure I can imagine a few things. 4354. Have you read the book Venus in Furs? Did it turn you on? >> I did read it. Nothing in it is arousing to me. I was mostly just confused at how their confusing and tumultuous and capricious relationship could be seen as desirable in any way. I just have vastly different needs and wants, I guess. I might still watch the play at some point. I bet Hugh Dancy makes a wonderful Severin. 4355. Velvet Underground with or without Nico? >> I am not familiar enough with either version to have a preference.

4356. Is there any similarity between what eminem is doing and what manson is doing? >> Which Manson? 4357. Who wants to be your dog? >> --- 4358. Are you SURE you aren't pretentious(I've been reading SOME surveys that sound pretentious to me)? >> I never claimed to be certain that I am not pretentious. 4359. Can you understand and express subtle and complex ideas? >> *shrug* I understand and express whatever I understand and express. 4360. Is writing akin to thinking for you? >> Yeah, it can be. I sometimes find it easier to work out some tangled ball of thought in my mind if I try writing it out as if explaining it to someone else. 4361. What do you imagine it feels like to be a member of the opposite sex? >> --- 4362. Bowie's Outside, can you tell who the murderer is? >> ??? 4363. Are you a bad banana with a greasy black peel? >> What is happening. 4364. What do you think of the Atkins diet? >> I don’t think of diets. In my opinion, they’re all useless. 4365. 'If it bleeds, I will fuck it'. How does that make you feel? >> I don’t feel anything, I have no frame of reference. 4366. The greatest shock rocker of all time is: The most pathetic shock rocker is: 4367. Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, or Red Dragon? >> I liked Red Dragon best simply because I like Francis Dolarhyde best. 4368. If Dr Lecter were to visit you what would you do? >> I mean, die, I guess. Isn’t he really good at killing people? 4369. Who is your favorite director of movies? >> Darren Aronofsky. 4370. What is Kubrick's best film? >> I don’t know, I haven’t seen enough of them to have an opinion. 4371. Fill in the blank as if you were speaking. I don't want anybody else. When I think about ___ I touch myself. >> --- 4372. Are you overly confident and blinded to your own faults? If you were you probably wouldn't know the extent of it. >> I’m the opposite, actually. 4373. Do you like: King Crimson? Emerson Lake and Palmer? Tajmahol? Republic? Thursday? >> The only band on this list I’m familiar with is King Crimson, and I like at least one song. 4374. Do you write your favorite bands on your clothing? >> I did when I was a teenager and wasn’t allowed to buy band shirts. I’d turn a shirt of mine inside out, draw on it, then wear the shirt right side out at home and switch it around when I got to school. Incidentally, that is how I got good at fabric painting, so I guess it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. 4375. Are you wild and crazy? >> ??? 4376. Do you party like River Pheonix? >> Probably not. 4377. What is it that you still are hiding? >> --- 4378. How attractive is a girl is a suit? How attractive is a guy in a dress? >> --- 4379. Why is it more acceptable for a girl to dress like a guy than for a guy to dress like a girl? >> Misogyny. 4380. Why is being a girl seen as somehow something LESS than being a guy? >> Unpacking misogyny is not within the scope of either my brain or this survey. 4381. What are three things you value? >> Compassion, emotional intelligence, ecological knowledge and respect. 4382. What are three things you normally do that go against those values in some way? >> Close myself off to others, ignore my emotions and berate myself for them, contribute to cycles of ecological abuse and neglect (mostly through what I buy). 4383. Name three things society in general values? >> Which society? 4384. Name three behaviors that society accepts as normal that go against those values? >> --- 4385. Name three highly specific things you look for in a potential mate? >> --- 4386. Who is the basis for your comparison when choosing a partenr? >> --- 4387. Have you ever given someone multiple orgasms or received them yourself? >> I’ve had them, but I’ve not been a participant in anyone else’s having of them. (Also, you don’t give people orgasms. It’s not a gift. It’s not something you allow them to experience by virtue of your body or whatever. I hate that framing so much.) 4388. The older generations thought the beatles were hip. Now they think today's music is shocking. What could music evolve into that people might find more shocking ten years from now? >> I have no idea. People find the most random things shocking, in my view, so I guess it really could be anything. 4389. Do you have any motives for your actions other than anger and lust? >> Well, yes...... 4390. Would you be more likely to rape someone or to kill someone? >> Wow. 4391. What have you read by James Baldwin? >> Nothing. I’m a little embarrassed about that, because the bits of his work and the markers of his influence that I’ve encountered over time have been very interesting and I should probably go to the source at some point. 4392. Can you read Naked Lunch straight through in one sitting? >> I don’t know what that is. 4393. Are you a snob? If yes, in what regards? >> I don’t think so. 4394. Fill in the blank. ___ is all there is. >> --- 4395. Is common sense dead? >> --- 4396. Are you unapproachable? >> I don’t know. Some people have seemed to treat me like I was, but who knows. It’s as much about the individual feelings of the person doing the approaching (or choosing not to do the approaching) as it is about me and how I’m behaving. 4397. Are you the kind of person strangers like to talk to? >> I don’t know. 4398. Do social interactions energize or drain you (in general)? >> I tend to experience fatigue from them more readily and quickly than is probably healthy. 4399. What's the longest you have ever gone between sexual encounters? >> I mean, the last time I had an outworld sexual encounter was like 4 years ago. Inworld, I have no idea what the longest interval has been. 4400. Compare John Lennon and Kurt Cobain: >> No???

#surveys #survey #5000 question survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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ittasteslikeiron · 4 years

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Part One: Hypermnestra

Chapter 1

“Still falling

Breathless and on again

Inside today

Beside me today”

-Mazzy Star, ‘Into Dust’

The sharp, salt-scented air bit at Will’s face and cut into his lungs with cold, serrated claws. The pain was the least of his worries, however. A heavy sigh snuck passed his lips in a combination of fatigue, contentment, and guilt. He had made up his mind the moment he leaned his head against the doctor’s chest, eyes fixed on the churning waves below the cliff, reflecting the darkness hidden beneath them. His heart twisted painfully in his chest when he felt Hannibal gently move his head closer to Will’s. Will curled his fingers around Hannibal’s shirt, ignoring the damp patches even as they clung to his touch. The blood of The Dragon still plastered their skin and clothes, clouding the air with the dense smell of metal.

The profiler’s mind was repeating back Dr. Du Maurier's words without mercy. “Can’t live with him, can’t live without him,” she had mused, her expression revealing how much she believed she understood. Just the thought of her vacantly smug expression filled his stomach with lead. She thought she knew everything; everything about Hannibal, about Will. Bedelia Du Maurier would never completely comprehend the deadly dance the two killers were trapped in, but she did manage to end up right when the dances concluded.

Hannibal was infatuated with Will in a way he hadn’t been with anyone before. His actions over the many years that he and Will had known each other were more than proof of that. So why had Will been so blind? He seemed to have been drawn to Hannibal despite never deliberately taking a step down the path he now stood at the end of. Maybe he had known, at least to a degree, that his friend’s feelings towards him had been more than conventional. The crooked scar across his abdomen could tell him that. It was as if every sign and hint had been completely obscured until then… or maybe Will had purposely obscured them.

He had let Hannibal go where no one else could step foot; Hannibal was allowed to look behind the curtain, to see Will’s mind without any barriers. Did Will know then?

He realized Hannibal’s true nature while behind bars and yet his only issue was that the killer used him as a scapegoat, not that the killer had killed. Did he know then?

He dined at Hannibal’s table under the guise of the person Hannibal clearly wanted him to be. Did he know then?

Of course, these instances don’t really clue to Hannibal being in love. Will had been the one making questionable decisions in those situations. Those decisions indicated a certain… fondness on his end. This realization made Will pause, swallowing thickly. Was Will- Did he… share Hannibal’s sentiment? Part of him was saying that was obvious. Trips to Europe and certain corpses lying mere feet from him just then gave that away completely.

But of course, that made this so much harder to do. A stab of guilt pierced his heart and he bit down on his tongue to quiet his discomfort. He relaxed in the psychiatrist's arms, fighting back a sob when he felt Hannibal do the same. He took a deep breath and tipped them both off of the cliff. All it took was a gentle redistribution of his weight and they were suspended over the sea, plummeting at a concerning speed. Hannibal didn’t say anything, nor did he fight back. His arms remained wrapped around Will, as if to say that he understood. The two men just held each other tighter and Will braced himself before they hit the water.

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The gravel of the driveway crunched beneath Jack’s feet as he approached the house. The sound of it seemed to be replaced by words that had been spoken to him many years ago. Waves of conversations with Alana, Katz, Hannibal, and even Will himself were filling the empty spaces of his skull. He knew, He knew that something was off with Will when he left. There was something in the man’s eyes that gave away his guilt, but Jack had said nothing. Jack had assumed he was overthinking. He pulled Will from a happy life with a happy family only to throw him back into the viper pit that was interacting with Hannibal Lecter. Whatever he was about to find would be his own fault, wouldn’t it?

His thoughts were interrupted by an officer from the local department stepping forward to show him to the front of the house. Once he had stepped inside, an unnamed forensic called for Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller to come back inside the house. They didn’t greet Jack with their usual mild and cheery demeanors. Jimmy’s eyes hadn’t left his feet and Zeller seemed to find a spot on the wall more captivating than the task at hand.

“So,” Jack prompted, his voice leaving his throat in a rougher state than he intended. He cleared his throat before he continued, “what’s the damage?”

Jimmy grimaced and looked away, leaving Zeller to do the introductions.

“Well… it might be easier to explain if we do a walk through,” Zeller offered reluctantly, knowing Jack would take the situation hard. He headed towards a bedroom to their right with Jack and Jimmy in tow. He gestured vaguely to the on suite bathroom and the folded jumpsuit on the bed as he repeated his and Jimmy’s findings. “We can assume that Hannibal showered and changed, Will did too if you look into the guest bedroom across the hall. Then they had dinner,” he headed out into the dining room and pointed towards the kitchen, “not sure what… or who… they had just yet.” There was an uncomfortable silence after Zeller stopped talking. It was quite obvious that everyone was desperately trying not to think of the man they considered a friend eating what used to be a person with the man that killed their coworker… the man that had murdered the ever-witty Beverly Katz.

Since Jimmy could handle awkward silence the worst out of the three of them, he decided to continue where Zeller left off. “They were about to have a glass of wine,” he nodded in the direction of the shattered glass that littered the floor, “but a surprise visitor interrupted them.” He stepped through one of the broken windows and stood next to Francis Dolarhyde’s body. “There was a fight, Dolarhyde dropped here, and we don’t know where they are now.”

“Well,” Zeller interjected, “we know where they went…” He pointed to the trail of blood that led to the cliff face. “We have no way of knowing if they’re alive or not.”

Jimmy shrugged and said, “we can only guess the extent of their injuries, but there’s a chance they would have survived the fall.”

“Not a big chance,” Zeller scoffed, crossing his arms.

“It’s a sizable chance!”

“Twenty percent is not ‘sizable’...”

“Twenty-eight percent, actually, and-”

“Enough!” Jack’s booming voice echoed off of the pavement and the side of the house. “If there’s a chance they lived, there’s a chance they’ll take more lives. Tell me something that’ll actually help me find them.”

Jimmy and Zeller fell silent, their expressions both exuding a sense of overall unease. They didn’t have anything that could help find Hannibal or Will, but they did have a video camera. Once they get whatever footage was left on there, maybe something will surface. This information didn’t make Jack any happier, but it sure didn’t fill him with more dread so he took it as a positive.

He excused himself from the group, instructing them to keep working, and headed back to the front of the house. The gravel was poking up against his soles enough that he could almost feel it through his shoes. Maybe he just needed new shoes… The pair he was wearing was from back before Bella-

He stopped that thought from getting any further. It still pained him to think of Bella, and he couldn’t handle any more guilt just then. Of course, knowing who he had to call, he was sure he wasn’t escaping any of the guilt he deserved. He took a moment to psyche himself up for what would most likely be the lecture of a lifetime.

Dr. Alana Bloom was the first person, other than Jack Crawford, to know about Hannibal’s initial escape from the transport vehicle. She promptly fled to an undisclosed location, her wife and son at her side. She had a strong proclivity to wariness, especially when it came to Hannibal Lecter… and Will Graham. Dr. Bloom knew she was living on borrowed time and she wasn’t interested in returning that time at any point in the near- or far- future.

Because of this, it was perfectly understandable for her outrage to be at such a velocity as it was when Jack Crawford called. Of course, she tried to be courteous and remain calm.

“Jack,” She said once she had answered his call. Her voice was dripping with faux politeness. “Please, tell me you’ve called to let me know that my family and I fled our home for no reason and that you have Hannibal Lecter in custody.”

Jack Crawford’s silence was the first of many things to set her rage in motion. From just a second of hesitation, she already knew what Jack was about to inform her of. The man cleared his throat before finally admitting to what Alana suspected.

“No, Alana, that’s not why I’ve called. We’ve recovered Dolarhyde’s body at a cliff-side house that Hannibal owned. We don’t know where Will and Han-”

“You know for sure that Will was with him?”

“... yes, we’re certain.”

“How do you know?”

“Clothes, a meal set for two, a body with evidence of at least two attackers… I could go on,” he sighed, listing off the things he learned mere minutes ago as if he was an expert on them.

“Clothes? What do you mean clothes?”

“I mean, both Hannibal and Will changed into clothing that was stored at the house and left their old clothes behind.”

Alana fell silent, biting her tongue to keep herself from falling back into ‘I-told-you-so’s. At that moment, Morgan ran into the room, shrieking excitedly. Margot wasn’t far behind him, a large grin on her face. She scooped up the small boy in her arms, teasing him with a cheerful, “I got you!”

Crawford fell silent as well, hearing the sounds of Alana’s family interrupting. He assumed Alana wasn’t interested in discussing these topics in front of her son. For once in his life, Jack was right. Alana’s expression softened and she smiled bittersweetly in the direction of Margot and Morgan. Margot paused to give her a concerned nod and carried their son back to wherever he had escaped from. Once the noises of childhood innocence had faded into the background, she returned her attention to Jack and his disappointing news.

“Alana, I understand that you’re upset and I-”

“Upset? Jack, upset doesn’t even begin to cover it,” She snapped harshly. “From the beginning of this whole ordeal, from the first time you looped Will into your world, I told you it was a bad idea. I told you!”

“You’re the one that suggested Dr. Lecter in the first place!”

“Right, it’s completely my fault he wasn’t keen on people knowing he was a goddamn cannibal…”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Then what do you mean, Jack? I’ll take the blame for not being a fucking psychic but you are the reason Will was able to get as close to Hannibal as he did. Hannibal wouldn’t have been given the opportunity to escape yesterday if you could have had the common sense to say no to Will’s plan, especially knowing the nature of his and Hannibal’s relationship!” Alana’s tone had fallen into a bitter exasperation. Jack didn’t see merit in replying in that moment; he didn’t know what to say. After a few moments of Alana seething silently, he finally spoke up.

“Alana, I’m sorry I-”

“Great, Jack, I’m glad you’re humble enough to apologize,” She mused sarcastically. “Call me back when you’ve actually caught them, alright?”

Before Crawford could even recollect himself, the monotonous sound of the dial tone was droning in his ear. He sighed, defeated and regretful, before pulling up the next contact on his phone. Unfortunately, his calls would never be answered and he wouldn’t see who he was trying to contact until their corpse was in front of him.

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Five hours earlier, Will’s eyelids snapped apart and he leaned over, his esophagus burning as salt water was harshly pushed out of his lungs. He coughed, gently holding his throat, and tried to get his bearings. Hannibal Lecter was kneeling at his side, having just resuscitated the previously-lifeless ex-criminal profiler. Once his coughing fit had passed, Will laid back down against the chilled sand. His gaze remained linked with Hannibal’s, only breaking once Will let his eyes fall closed as he took a deep breath.

“You tried to take my life,” Hannibal’s voice broke the silence, sounding rough and exhausted. “I believe that was… the fourth attempt?”

Will remained silent. He knew that, deep down, he hadn’t wanted Hannibal to die. The only life he meant to take was his own. But, clearly, that plan had failed.

“If I didn’t know any better,” the doctor continued, amused, “I’d suspect you don’t actually find me interesting”

A chuckle forced itself past Will’s lips, despite his best efforts, and he finally opened his eyes again. His gaze was met with the sight of Hannibal smiling gently and good-naturedly.

As he sat up he croaked a feeble assurance, “Believe me, doctor, I find nothing more interesting than I find you.”

“Not to be redundant, Will, but our soaked clothes suggest otherwise…”

“You being interesting does not mean you’re immune to attempts on your life, Hannibal,” Will replied in a lighthearted tone. “Besides, doesn’t it keep you entertained?”

Hannibal, his face reflecting Will’s sly demeanor, opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted by approaching footsteps. His gaze snapped to the source of the noise, tensing as he did so. However, his shoulders quickly relaxed and his expression softened.

“Chiyoh,” He hummed, pleased. “I had expected you sooner.”

The woman glanced at Will, who had whipped around the second he had heard her approach as well, and coldly replied, “The car is ready.”

Will turned his attention back to Hannibal, confusion and suspicion creeping onto his features. He was looking for an explanation but his companion gave him none. Hannibal merely thanked Chiyoh and rose to his feet. She began to walk away, headed in the direction Will assumed ‘the car’ she had mentioned was in. When Will focused on Hannibal again, the doctor’s hand was extended towards Will. He took it without a second thought, groaning as Hannibal tugged him to his feet. Due to how injured the two of them were, they found it necessary to lean against one another as they followed after Chiyoh.

The gunman tugged the back door open and moved to the driver’s seat, her movements eerily fluid as usual. Will let his attention retreat into his mind and focus on his thoughts. Unfortunately, his thoughts were about as bleak as the tumbling sea Hannibal had dragged him from, only filled with a lot more regret and confusion. He regretted… well, that list was far too long to go over then. For the time being, he tried to focus on his most recent regrets. He glanced at the man sitting next to him. Hannibal seemed to be completely consumed by observing the passing pine trees outside his window.

Will turned to look outside his own window and fell back into his thoughts. He… had most definitely missed Hannibal. He missed the evening dinners preceded by pseudo-therapy sessions in the doctor’s home office. He missed the subtle jokes they had shared and the complete understanding of one another. But the realization of how much Will had missed Hannibal didn’t stop him from regretting going with him. After Europe and nearly losing his face, he had focused on healing himself; repairing his morality over the three years he hadn’t seen Hannibal. He had fallen back into old, malicious habits within just a day of being around the man again.

Will’s train of thought made its way to Molly and his jaw clenched. He loved Molly, he really did. But what he had become, especially now, wasn’t something that should be around Molly. He had a feeling she would get hurt if he continued living the way he had before the appearance of the red dragon. After all, she was currently lying in a hospital because of Will and the work he did. It would be painful to wake up every morning without her by his side. He wouldn’t be making breakfast with her in the morning or joking about their dogs’ anatomy. She wouldn’t be there to help him back into reality by drying his tears when he woke from the nightmares. His heart twinged at that realization and he closed his eyes, hoping to block out the pain.

Hannibal’s thoughts weren’t nearly as conflicted as Will’s. In fact, they were quite nearly the opposite. Hannibal had officially decided that the three years of incarceration he endured were completely worth it. He watched the elegant pine trees flicker by and he smiled to himself. Killing Francis Dolarhyde with Will was… ineffable. He started to understand why people were so entranced by religion; by their idea of God. If Will were a deity, Hannibal wouldn’t hesitate to worship him. The sight of Will, face painted in his own blood and the hands of death reflected in his eyes, was the most sacred image he had seen in his entire life. It had reminded him of the first time he had taken a life for a reason beyond vengeance; it reminded him of the power that had awakened in him. He saw that power in Will’s eyes on the day that Garrett Jacob Hobbs died in his own kitchen. He saw it when he came home to find a corpse on his table and a bloody-knuckled Will standing beside it. It was in Will at the Verger estate and it was in Will when he first visited Hannibal from behind the glass. Each time he was granted a glimpse of that look, that realization, in Will, it had grown stronger. Now it was ready to finally be set free.

Within thirty minutes, Chiyoh had pulled the car up to a secluded cabin and turned the engine off. Without a word, she stepped out of the car. Hannibal and Will moved to leave the vehicle as well, but they paused when they realized that their hands were still linked together from the moment Hannibal had helped Will to his feet on the beach. The two men stared down at their entwined fingers for a moment, Will with an expression of puzzled embarrassment and Hannibal appearing curious and pleased. Once Will and Hannibal brought their gazes up to one another, Will hastily let go of his companion’s hand and stepped out of the car. Hannibal remained inside the vehicle for a moment afterward, his gaze cast downwards and a flicker of disappointment crossing his features.

Once he had finally left the vehicle, he stood on the front deck of the cabin with Chiyoh while Will headed inside. Once he was certain Will was out of ear shot, he turned his head slowly to look at her. Her gaze remained focused on the horizon, scanning the trees with her usual melancholy expression. A songbird cried out from the treetops, catching Hannibal’s attention.

“I’ve done all I can for you, Hannibal,” Chiyoh murmured softly, still looking out at the forest around them. “This is the last time I will help you.” The gentleness of her voice held an obscure, sinister tone to it. Hannibal raised his brow and turned to her once more, a surprised smile on his face.

“Where will you go, now that you’re free?”

“I will never be free,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Memories and patterns will still dance in my head. But I can free myself in the ways Will Graham cannot.”

“You do not find solace in the power one has when they take a life. You only ever kill when you see it as absolutely necessary,” he hummed, his smile softening. “You never did change quite as much as any other, Chiyoh. You’ve stayed true to your nature; you didn’t adapt it despite your hardship.”

Chiyoh neglected to reply, choosing instead to stare at her feet. “By hardship, you mean yourself, don’t you?” She hummed, more of a correction than a question.

“I’d wish you luck on your path to freedom if I wasn’t confident you’ll be fine without it,” he chuckled. “Your resiliency is astonishingly strong.”

“Goodbye, Hannibal.” She looked at him, conflicting expressions twisting her features, for a moment longer. Hannibal nodded once and she stepped off of the porch and headed into the line of trees. Hannibal watched her silhouette disappear until she was completely obscured by the forest and it’s tangled arms. He took one last deep breath of the sharp, pine-filled air.

By the time Hannibal entered the cabin, Will had explored the first room quite thoroughly, taking note of every detail. To the left of the door was a comfortable living area, complete with a large and rustic stone fireplace nestled into the far corner. The furniture was either upholstered with a dark, nearly black, brown leather or it was composed of polished wood of the same hue. Will had walked over to the fireplace, sliding a finger across the mantle and smiling at the thin layer of dust resting there. He almost felt triumphant that for once Hannibal wasn’t perfectly maintaining something he owned.

The mantle had various framed pictures and wood carvings on it, each of which caught Will’s eye. They were pictures of lakes and carvings of wolves. His heart grew lighter when he realized why Hannibal had decorated so very out of character. Hannibal had tried to create some semblance of Will’s home within his extravagant aesthetics.

Above the fireplace, a watercolor painting of a human heart, submerged in water and suspended on a fish hook, was hung in a dark frame. It was beautiful, though morbidly so. Could Will have expected anything different from the Chesapeake Ripper? He smiled fondly, amused, and sat down on the sofa.

He turned his head to observe the right half of the room, which had been consumed by a kitchen and dining area. It was reminiscent of Hannibal’s home and for a moment it reminded Will of a time he’d prefer to forget. The scar across his stomach throbbed and he swallowed thickly. Luckily, that moment had been interrupted by Hannibal’s entrance.

The doctor stayed motionless at the door, just watching Will with seemingly no intention of moving. Will had stood up when he heard the door and was now practically a mirror image of Hannibal. They observed each other with a silent sense of contentment and awe. So much had changed in the past few hours, and the minds of the two men were still trying to catch up.

As Will’s exhaustion started to wear off, the dull throbbing of his wounds became more apparent. His discomfort must have shown because Hannibal’s brows drew together in concern. Will looked down at his bloodied hands and asked, “you don’t happen to have a first aid kit, do you?” An amused grin tugged at his lips despite the gaping wound in his cheek.

“There is a suture kit below the sink,” Hannibal replied, almost absentmindedly.

Will nodded sharply and headed to the kitchen. He opened the dark cabinet below the sink, ducking his head to look inside. He crouched down to retrieve the cabinet’s only contents, a tin box and a bottle of clear liquid that Will assumes was some form of rubbing alcohol. Hannibal had followed him into the kitchen area, washing his hands at the sink once Will had stepped away from it.

“Set those on the table, please,” he instructed with a steady and seemingly cheerful tone. Will obliged and took a seat, watching Hannibal finish washing his hands. The doctor had smiled more in the past two days than he had nearly the entire time Will had known him. It was… endearing? Will wasn’t sure why exactly, but it certainly made Will smile nearly just as often. Hannibal’s good mood seemed contagious.

The doctor walked over to the table and opened up the tin box, laying out suturing tools and supplies in an organized manner. He gestured vaguely towards the table and hummed, “if you wouldn’t mind, Will?”

“You want me to lay on the table?” Will almost laughed as a mocking expression of fake severity settled onto his face. “You aren’t going to try to eat me again, are you, because I thought we were passed that…”

Hannibal chuckled and shook his head. He grinned at the younger man and hummed, “No, it just would make tying sutures easier if you were laying on a table.”

Will nodded, a silent ‘I know, I know,’ being spoken through his expression. He sat on the edge of the table before turning and laying on his back, head just a few inches from the supplies Hannibal had set out. Hannibal gently tucked a rolled dish towel beneath Will’s skull to support it. He was closing his eyes, listening to the ambient sounds of the forest clouding the noise of Hannibal opening up the rubbing alcohol and starting to clean Will’s cheek.

The younger man sucked in a sharp breath between his now-clenched teeth. He opened his eyes again and looked up at Hannibal, watching his expressions change as his level of focus varied. The doctor then picked up a pair of tweezers and removed any foreign material from the wound, causing more irritation as the debris was pulled through damaged tissue.

He moved on, preparing the remaining tools in the kit to be able to sew up Will’s cheek. Hannibal paused before pushing the needle through Will’s flesh, first warning him of the amount of pain this would most likely cause. Of course, warning someone won’t make it hurt less so Will still flinched and hissed a few expletives.

“If you stay still, this will be much easier”

“Oh my god, you’re right,” Will said, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Why didn’t I think of that!”

Hannibal’s movements stilled and he shot a displeased and unimpressed glare at Will before muttering, “well, there’s no need to be rude…”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to eat me,” Will joked. “Are you saying the whole laying-on-the-table thing really isn’t for making stitches easier?”

The struggle of suppressing his chuckle showed quite clearly on Hannibal’s face. He had to stop for a moment, his head turning to the side and his eyes closing, before his composure was completely regained. He finished tying Will’s sutures without another word, still trying to hide how amusing he had found his companion’s antics.

Will grinned up at Hannibal triumphantly and they remained frozen in the high of amusement and contentment for a moment longer. Will’s expression softened as he became distracted by the way the sunlight was illuminating Hannibal’s irises. His mind began to wander, studying the components of Hannibal’s eyes; from their biological makeup to why Hannibal learned to hide his emotions behind them. He didn’t realize he had spaced off until Hannibal had said his names a couple times, making him blink and shake his head back and forth.

“Sorry, I- what were you saying?”

“Your shoulder, Will,” Hannibal answered softly. “You’ll need to remove your shirt for me to be able to work freely.”

“Right, right,” Will hummed in reply and sat up, trying to remove his shirt without making the stab wound hurt too much. Why was he always getting hurt in the shoulder? A rotator cuff injury, Jack shooting him, then Chiyoh shooting him, and this time getting stabbed… at least it wasn’t just the one shoulder, though. He probably would have lost more mobility if some of the wounds hadn’t been received by his opposite shoulder.

As he pulled his shirt away from his wound, he noticed that it peeled away rather than simply sliding off of him. Will’s partially-dried blood had glued the shirt to his skin. It probably would have been more disgusting to him if his years assisting the FBI hadn’t utterly desensitized him. After seeing mushrooms growing from the skin of corpses, he wasn’t sure he’d ever find anything nearly as disgusting.

Hannibal worked considerably slower this time, his touch seemingly lingering more often than before. Will was unsure of whether it was because Hannibal’s own wounds were starting to exhaust him or if... Either way, it didn’t matter. He had never been uncomfortable with physical contact from Hannibal. Which, now that he was thinking about it, was almost odd.

Will had always felt an aversion to being touched since he was fairly young. It had always felt so overwhelming, especially when coupled with his tendency to get lost in the details of his surroundings and the intensity of his empathy.

The final suture being tied pulled him away from his train of thought and back to reality. Hannibal was sanitizing the supplies and laying them back out in the organized manner he had before.

“This will be,” Hannibal paused, trying to choose the right words to say, “challenging, but I have confidence in your abilities, Will.”

Will raised an eyebrow and an expression of confused intrigue settled onto his features. Hannibal gestured for Will to get off of the table, which Will did, before taking his place and rolling up the hem of his shirt to expose the gunshot on his stomach. Will’s face fell.

“Hannibal, I don’t think I can-“

“There’s no internal bleeding as I am still fully conscious,” Hannibal interrupted in a reassuring tone. “All that I need you to do is make sure the wound is sterilized and bandaged. It’s a relatively small wound, you will do fine.”

“But-”

Hannibal reached out and grabbed Will’s hand. He tugged him closer and rested his free hand on the uninjured side of Will’s face. Will’s words died in his throat and he merely stared at Hannibal, brows twisted into a concerned and anxious expression. Hannibal continued reassuring him, softly saying, “My dear boy, you’ve no reason to worry. If it helps, this isn’t going to be a permanent solution to our wounds.”

Will swallowed thickly and looked down at his feet, nodding slowly. Hannibal’s hands drew away after tentatively brushing a stray curl from Will’s forehead. Will rolled up his sleeves and made quick work of washing his hands. He returned to the table and gently picked up the rubbing alcohol, turning it in his hand. Will’s eyes lifted from the label to meet Hannibal’s.

“You sure you trust me to do this?”

“I trust you with my life, William.”

“Bad move on your part,” he mumbled.

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>> Chapter 2<<

#nbc hannibal #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannigram #murder husbands #will graham #alana bloom #margot verger #jack crawford #jimmy price #brian zeller #francis dolarhyde #the red dragon #bryan fuller #fanfic

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