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k-s-morgan · 4 years

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Hannigram One-Shot from ‘Ravage’

It just occured to me that I’ve never shared my ‘Ravage’ contribution online! Big thanks to @lovecrimebooks for organizing it and letting me be a part of it.

The story is a short Hannigram AU that takes place in the world of Dante’s hell. My circle was Lust. Hannibal is a literal Devil here; Will is a supernatural being that represents Desire. A story of two deadly forces, obsession, and intricate manipulation.

Black for Death, Purple for Lust: Colors to Capture the Devil

“To this torment are condemned the carnal damned. Those for whom desire conquered reason.” — Virgil

The flickers of darkness were tightly entwined with splashes of gold, red, and white. All dominant colors seeking to represent every being that had chosen to participate in this mockery of a meeting.

The Ball of Highest Powers was an event that Hannibal had always found appallingly primitive. And yet, being the Master, the Devil, he was forced to attend each one. To watch the emergence and the disappearance of his old and new acquaintances. To reinforce his inevitable presence.

To instill fear. Because he was no longer a Lucifer, God’s fallen angel, trapped for all eternity. He was a Hannibal, the name he had chosen himself, a rightful owner of Hell; the Devil reborn, reclaiming his agency.

Recently, God began to avoid Earth more and more, and Hannibal was only too happy to take control over it.

They knew it — these beings proudly calling themselves the Highest Powers. They knew that if they displeased him, they would be gone. Anteros, or Anthony as he preferred to call himself these days, his oldest source of annoyance, the only surviving representation of Love. Margot, a recently emerged Goddess of Grace. Mason, his supposed ally, reflecting Perversion. And many, many more.

Not everyone attended the Ball, but it was the only opportunity to become aware of how many of them continued their existence, what new reflections had come to life.

“Will you be putting a crown on anyone today?” Anthony asked him, holding a glass of crystal liquid and watching the masses swirling in a dance. Hannibal measured him with a disinterested gaze.

As one of the most ancient beings, Anthony was the only one who dared to engage him at least in some way, despite knowing the extent of Hannibal’s contempt to him and to what he represented.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Hannibal replied mildly. The crowns. The tradition that all of them followed faithfully. Every color had its own meaning. Anthony tended to put a red crown on one of these poor souls every year, expressing his fleeting affection.

The only crowns Hannibal used were black ones, symbolizing instant elimination and oblivion. He had the power to destroy those who no longer amused him, which made Anthony’s boldness all the more surprising.

“Don’t look at me,” Anthony said half-jokingly, and Hannibal’s lips twitched in distaste.

Before he could answer, though, a strange hush fell over the hall. More and more beings went silent, staring somewhere, and involuntarily, Hannibal felt a weak pang of curiosity.

Some creature emerged from the crowd, moving at a leisurely pace, staring at him.

Moving to him. Or perhaps to Anthony, which was far more likely?

But no. The blue eyes were fixed on him, and Hannibal blinked incredulously. His bewilderment changed into disbelief and then stupor when he finally noticed what this newcomer was holding.

A crown. A purple crown.

A crown of lust.

Lust. Everyone knew Hannibal’s feelings toward it, the dark satisfaction he received in keeping lovers apart, separated by vast, rocky chasm in their special circle of Hell.

There was no misstep that Hannibal despised more. Other sins were delicious, deserving the most exquisite torment, poisoning even the most strong-willed people. Lust, though, this bleak, faded semblance of emotion was shared only by crippled weaklings. Hannibal readily engaged in other sins, but not in lust — never in lust.

And this new… creature was carrying a purple crown? Heading toward him? He was. One step closer to him, then another. Then he broke into his personal space, and Hannibal remained frozen, paralyzed by a strange, unfamiliar feeling.

He had never seen this creature before.

He would remember him.

Blue eyes were studying him intently, framed by dark lashes. Pale face, chocolate curls, pink mouth. A classical beauty.

The being smiled at him and Hannibal’s lips parted. His breath caught in his chest, his hands grew horrifyingly clammy, and he distinctly felt his pupils getting wide, his eyes glazing over.

The scent hit him then — strange, enticing. The scent of innocence and death. Hannibal shuddered, inhaling it deeply, his nostrils flaring in attempt to get more of it.

And then the smiling creature reached forward and put the purple crown on his head, and he still did nothing. The silence stretched, both of them staring at one another, Hannibal’s fingers twitching, aching to touch, to feel.

The strange creature tilted his head, watching him, let out a thoughtful sound, and then turned his back to him and disappeared within the crowd.

The silence was deafening, and Hannibal was still rooted to his spot, unable to move, utterly confused by what had happened and by the fact that he was now wearing a purple crown, with no instinct to take it off.

Conversations resumed eventually, and Anthony, who was still standing nearby, chuckled.

“Well, that was unexpected,” he said, amused. “Did you honestly like Will, or are you already plotting his demise?”

“Will?” Hannibal echoed.

“Will. Desire,” Anthony’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You didn’t recognize him? He’s not exactly new. It’s just that he has never visited the Ball before. Few of us know him personally, but I thought that you, for sure—”

Hannibal stopped listening. Because while the name Will was new, he was indeed aware of Desire. The cunning, ubiquitous being that found entrance everywhere, slipping equally into the most romantic souls, enhancing their desire for affection, and into the violent ones, feeding their desire for war and destruction.

And now he seemed to slip into the Hell itself. Into Hannibal’s domain, into his very mind. Leaving him humiliated, with that purple embarrassment on his head.

Suddenly infuriated, Hannibal tore the crown from himself and clenched it in his hand, wishing only to crush it.

Foolish Will — to challenge the Devil himself.

Hannibal would put an end to it, and to him.

***

The cold darkness of Hell was soothing. The shadows were whispering to him, the souls were moaning, begging, but for some reason, it brought no pleasure to him.

Restless, Hannibal moved along the line of entrapped lovers within his circle of Lust, staring into their glassy faces, the longing and thirst reflected there as they kept looking over the chasm, trying to get a glimpse of their partners. He wasn’t some weak-minded creature like them. And he certainly didn’t experience lust. Such thing was beneath him.

But the image of blue eyes and lips curled up in a smile kept haunting him, his mind greedily recalling every bit, savoring it, filling his body with strange, buzzing sensation.

A purple lighting storm swirled around the chasm — the soul of Alana rising to see what was happening.

Alana was one of his human lovers, one Hannibal had seduced out of amusement, one he had been driving mad with lust until she killed a man in attempt to protect him, falsely thinking that Hannibal was about to be attacked. She had died in that confrontation as well, and since there was no lover Hannibal could position her against in the circle of Lust, he had chosen to turn her into a lighting storm here, trapped between two sides of the chasm.

Hannibal paid her no mind, but Alana whispered something, trembled, and suddenly, an image of Will appeared, huge and stretched through the entire chasm — shocking and ethereally beautiful.

Hannibal stared, a sharp rebuke freezing on his lips.

Will, Desire, was moving slowly through some forest, his eyes focused and curious, alight with intelligence and intensity that Hannibal found breathtaking. He made a strange movement, his eyebrows rising, and then he smiled, and Hannibal was lost.

Before he could stop himself, he materialized in a flash of smoke in the same forest, in the same place, several inches from Will.

Will stopped and strengthened slowly. Then he said without turning, “Now *this* is not the moment when I expected to encounter you.”

“I am faintly disturbed that you expected to encounter me at all,” Hannibal replied, watching his back, his eyes narrowed.

Finally, Will turned, and Hannibal’s breath hitched uncontrollably. His mind swam, his limbs went shaky. Desire crashed into him, enveloped every part of him, and he nearly snarled in frustration.

“Stop this,” he hissed, and Will blinked.

“Stop what?” he asked, as if genuinely confused. Clarifying would require more than he was ready to sacrifice, so Hannibal gritted his teeth and said nothing. Will tilted his head, an amused look crossing his features.

“Did you come here for me or are you interested in artful death as much as I am?”

“Artful death,” Hannibal echoed. Now, for the first time, he sensed a familiar smell of approaching decay, and he glanced at the ground, at an arched wrist that was protruding from it.

“Someone is killing people and burying them alive to feed the mushrooms,” Will said, also watching the ground. Hannibal would be taken aback — humanity still had the power to surprise him with the things they did, crazy as they were, but currently, he was much more interested in other matters. Specifically, in one standing before him.

“Do you get the souls quicker when they are buried alive?” Will asked, and Hannibal considered his question, surprised at the novelty of it.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “But the difference is slight, barely worth mentioning. Why are you here? Do you entertain yourself by helping those who can be saved?”

“No,” a frown marred Will’s forehead but somehow, it made him even more beautiful, and all thoughts left Hannibal’s head once again. “I told you. I’m not interested in life — only death captivates me. Well… now, at least.”

“This person is not dead yet.”

“But he will be,” Will shrugged. “I existed long enough to understand the beauty of it. Death is comforting. Pity not all of us have the privilege of experiencing it.”

“You will,” Hannibal told him, trying to sound calm, to hide the breathless notes in his voice. “If you keep provoking me.”

Some dark shadow flickered across Will’s face before it smoothed out, an amusing glint returning to his eyes.

“How am I provoking you?” he wondered.

“The only way you know how… Will. Or do you prefer to be called Desire?”

“Not in the least,” Will told him. “And I cannot deliberately affect you, no matter how hard I would try. I affect people only, slipping into their minds, evoking and enhancing their desires — for various things. Desire for love. Desire for destruction. Desire for revenge. What do you desire, Hannibal? To the extent where you would hope to blame it on me?”

Confusion and rage and something else, something heavier and much more intoxicating, swirled within him, and Hannibal crossed the distance between them in several short steps, crushing their mouths together, clenching Will’s hair in his fist and pulling at it violently.

Will let out a surprised sound — as if he had the right to be surprised after everything he had done, after his purple crown at that ball. Then his mouth opened wider, accepting him, and Hannibal kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, breathing faster and faster, until he felt dizzy, until the air he didn’t even need started to be lacking, until his consciousness darkened and faded. He craved him. He needed him, desperately.

Everything happened in a mist — him tearing Will’s clothes off, pushing him against the tree, taking his fill of him, Will’s soft moans breaking the silence, his compliance sweet and maddening. However, it all changed quite suddenly. Hannibal paused, regaining his strength, ready to take him again, but Will turned quickly and before he could say anything, he found himself pushed against the tree in return, Will’s nails piercing his skin to hold him in place, painful and sharp.

It was madness — everything that was happening. Hannibal didn’t understand it, couldn’t understand what was running through his veins, so hot and powerful, so intoxicating that he felt drunk on it. On Will. Later, when they both fell in a boneless heap right onto the ground, in the middle of the graveyard of those still living, Hannibal continued to touch him, to breathe in his smell, to stare at him in greed and never-ending confusion. He wanted him. He wanted him still.

Will reached out, his nails and the tips of his fingers red with Hannibal’s blood, and drew something on his arm — a small stag.

“To remember me until you want to forget me,” he said. Hannibal stroked his neck, thoughtfully, almost kindly.

“I am going to kill you,” he said, and Will nuzzled into his shoulder, a blissful smile touching his lips.

“I’m counting on it,” he murmured. “After all, this is why I have given you that purple crown. I expected to get a black one in return.”

Hannibal pulled away sharply, surprised and wishing to hide it.

Who could want a black crown? Highest Powers feared death more than humans. The idea of not existing terrified them, shrank their vanity and drowned their feeling of superiority.

Hannibal was the only one who had nothing to fear in this regard, and yet for some reason, Will’s dark words made him uneasy. He’d seen suicidal humans, held their souls, but those of the Highest Powers?

He couldn’t bear the burn of this confusion any longer. In an instant, Hannibal melted in smoke, with his last glimpse being Will, watching him with all-knowing, mysterious eyes.

He found himself back in his least favorite circle, under rebuking and hating stares of those trapped here for the very sin he was now wearing as a coat around himself.

Lust. Was that what it felt like? Why now, when Hannibal had given up hope on understanding and relating to it? He knew how to use lust, how to evoke it, but he had never been its target before. It was humbling — and infuriating. But still, not as bewildering as Will’s desire for a black crown.

The next days passed in brooding. Hannibal knew every corner of his domain, had his most and least favorite places, yet now, he felt restless wherever he went. The urge to see Will again, to have him, to listen to the troubling things he said was growing within him like a living being, coiling and hissing as he refused to succumb to it.

The stag drawn with blood was still sitting on his shoulder, with Hannibal wanting to erase it but finding himself unable to.

Maybe later.

When his resolve finally broke and he sought Will out, he was once again sent into stupor.

Will was in Lithuania. Near a painfully familiar grave. And he was busy arranging the bodies of some men around it.

Absolutely confounded, Hannibal found himself reaching for him, materializing just a step away, unable to believe his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered. “How do you know about this place? About her? No one does. No one was ever supposed to know.”

“Know that you have a weakness?” Will adjusted his hair, which seemed longer today, looking at Hannibal from under his lashes. The already familiar shock of desire ran through him but Hannibal was too stunned to act on it.

Something else was stopping him, too.

Despite his flirting gestures, Will looked sad. Full of that strange, ancient sadness that was all too familiar to Hannibal, but which he had never seen on anyone else before.

“How do you know?” Hannibal asked again, and this time, Will smiled mirthlessly. He touched the bodies he had arranged almost lovingly, moving them a little, so a grave would be directly in the center.

“This is where the only source of light in your life has died,” he said quietly. “This is where Mischa was buried. This is where I was born.”

When Hannibal just stared at him blankly, Will sighed.

“You have existed for the amount of time that no other being can comprehend,” he murmured. “I shudder when I try to imagine it. Endlessness. Emptiness. Boredom. But four centuries ago, something happened. Something changed. You were playing human again, as you do whenever boredom strikes you, and you got attached to a little girl. By accident, I’m sure, because you would never willingly let yourself feel. Perhaps the whole experience was amusing to you at first, but then you started to actually feel something. Everyone would think that a human girl protected by the Devil would be coddled to death, as safe as she could possibly be. But you got distracted — another unruly soul that had to be handled, another instance of unrest. You were gone and during this time, she was murdered — and whatever light that had started to grow within you was extinguished. You found her body here and decided to bury her in this same place… and you summoned me.”

Hannibal’s lips refused to obey. He licked them, strangely nervous, staring at Will and having no idea what to feel.

“Summoned you?” he clarified carefully.

“Yes,” Will looked away, glancing at Mischa’s grave again. “All Highest Beings appear to reflect emotions of large clusters of people. Some of them die by your hand and new, synonymous ones appear in their stead. They are all proud to represent the Highest Powers but they forget that they were created by humans. When similar emotions are experienced by a big number of people at once, a representative of this emotion is born — and this process is endless. In my case, though… my creator is you.”

“This is a lie,” Hannibal snapped. “I destroy. I do not create.”

Will’s lips curled in something too frightening to be called a smile.

“Maybe,” he said. “Therefore, I am your mistake. Your single lapse of judgment. After you found Mischa’s body, you held her. And you willed the time to reverse. You willed it to return you to the past, so you could save her. You willed it to return you to the moment of your first encounter, so you could never approach her again. Of course, your wishes weren’t granted. They never are, not even when the Devil himself is asking for it. Instead, I was born here. Yet another variation of Desire… only this time, your desire. Summoned by the strength of your pleas.”

“You are lying. I have never even seen you before that last ball!” Hannibal snarled, but the chill in his bones told him everything he needed to know. Will wasn’t lying. Will had witnessed his embarrassing descend into the most human emotions. Will had seen what Hannibal had spent centuries on trying to forget.

“You deny my very existence,” Will tilted his head, and despite vehement words, he didn’t sound angry. There was just that same sadness in his voice, one that he carried around himself at all times, which was wrapped around him like a cloud. “I am used to it by now. Since the moment of my appearance in this graveyard, with you burying Mischa, I saw only you. But you never even glanced at me. Not once. At first, I thought I was too weak to materialize properly. That is how I tried to explain your blindness. I tried to approach you many times after that — years after years. For centuries. But no matter how hard I tried, you never saw me. And it was killing me as the connection I feel to you is overwhelming — it reduces me to a ball of clingy, desperate emotions, all of which you despise.”

Hannibal stepped away before he could stop himself, disturbed by the genuineness and warmth he could feel emanating from Will.

He didn’t know if he liked it. He had never felt… this, directed at him. Will noticed his instinctive retreat, but instead of acting hurt, he dared to laugh.

“I live for you,” he said easily, and Hannibal stared at him, unable to comprehend how anyone could be so open, how anyone could say this to him.

Despite sugary words, Will didn’t act as if he was swooning in his presence. He hadn’t acted like that in the forest as well — he positioned himself as his equal. He had more grace than the majority of Highest Beings.

It was impossible to understand him.

“I’ve spent all my life in the hope that you will finally see me, learning everything I could about you, becoming your shadow,” Will continued. “Others don’t touch me — it is you whom I crave, whose attention I seek, whose company I desire. But recently… I realized that I could no longer pretend. I was a mistake that you’ve made once — that’s all there is to it. Knowing that my goal was futile, I chose against continuing my existence. At that ball, for the first time, I approached you not with love and desire, but with death and lust. And you saw me. After all this time. Because even though you loved that little girl, even though your love and your desire to change the past created me, these are not the feelings that you can recognize. Mischa was an anomaly. What you do recognize is death, which you sow, and lust, the circle of which you control. Lust is the closest you can feel to affection… I think. So this was the only time when you could see me.”

“I can see you now,” words escaped by themselves, before Hannibal could stop them. A flash of surprise crossed Will’s face before he chuckled.

“Of course you can,” he said almost gently. “Because I still intend to die. You can feel it on me. And that is why I hope that you will gift me with oblivion. You are the only one who can do that — not to mention that it will be as overly dramatic as you like. Symbolic. Dying from the hand of someone who made me.”

Hannibal’s thoughts were uncharacteristically jumbled. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, confused, at a loss, bewildered. Will was confounding. When he looked at him, even now, Hannibal could feel the dryness of his own mouth, the fevered hotness of his skin — lust, thick and powerful, mindlessly pushing him forward, his fingers trembling with the urge to touch, to caress, to bruise. Even this alarming revelation hadn’t changed it — he still wanted Will.

But he was also scared of him. Another new feeling, the flavor of which Hannibal tasted with interest, wondering if this was what others felt in his presence.

There was something else that bothered him, so, licking his dry lips, Hannibal asked, “You said you approached me with death and lust. Does it mean that your previous feelings no longer exist?”

“Nothing and no one can change them,” Will replied, still serene, still smiling. “You’ve made me. I will be always attracted to you — even I can’t fight it. But I am not a mindless bundle of desire. Before, having you see me, talk to me, was a dream. My most cherished fantasy. Once I decided to disappear, death became my biggest wish. When I managed to subdue my brighter feelings for you and pushed death and something as primal as lust to the front, you saw me — but even then, you refused to give me what I want. I didn’t get my black crown. Even after the forest, you still haven’t granted my wish. I don’t understand why — you have executed others for much, much less. Coming to Mischa was my last idea. Everything started here — it would be prudent if everything came to an end in this same place. Don’t you agree?”

Hannibal touched him, then, tracing the contour of his face, moving to his lips. Will closed his eyes, shuddering, tilting his head in such a sensual way that for a second, Hannibal’s vision went black with absurd, maddening desire.

“Wasting centuries over me,” he whispered. “How foolish.”

Will opened his eyes, frowning, but when he wanted to move away, Hannibal tightened his grip on him.

“I will grant your wish,” he promised. “But not now.”

Will looked at him expressionlessly. Hannibal was the one to step away, and his eyes lingered on Will for quite a while before he dissipated in the darkness.

He spent the next days lost in thoughts. He would kill Will — that was undeniable. He couldn’t tolerate the existence of someone who knew him from such a side, someone who dared to feel emotions to him that Hannibal despised.

But something was stopping him, making him delay that inevitable moment. There was something irresistible in realization that he was the one to create Will, that he had his very own Highest Being — unique, not like the others. Beautiful and tragic and deadly. Will had quite a list of souls he had been playing with. He wasn’t simply seducing people’s minds — he was driving them insane, whispering and poisoning them once they were sleeping, making them want things they would never dare to want. Hannibal checked, and in all his time, he had never seen such a vicious and cunning version of Desire.

Secretly, he wondered if Desire was even the right name for Will. Considering how tightly it was interconnected with lust, it formed a deadly combination that affected even him.

Because he wanted him. Was aching for him. His madness was intensifying, urging him to locate Will and to have him again, whether he wanted it or not. Hannibal prepared a black crown — stunning and regal, fitting for his creation, but he still struggled with making a decision. He continued to think. To wonder. His thoughts came to a halt when he suddenly felt a strange, vague whisper of alarm. Hannibal narrowed his eyes, listening attentively, frowning when the stag Will had drawn on him, one that Hannibal couldn’t force himself to remove, heated abruptly, as if coming to life.

‘At this point, nothing would actually surprise me,’ Hannibal thought, but before he could look at the picture on his arm, another pang of alarm pierced him — this one much stronger. Hannibal tensed for a second, and his lips curled in a snarl when he realized that someone had entered Hell — someone who had no place here.

His kingdom was being… invaded? Who could possibly be as foolish as to…

The wall glimmered under his glare, its shape softening to a well of images. Hannibal quickly found the circle where the intruder was — Lust, and he wanted to scoff — but stopped as he saw the whole picture.

That same rocky chasm. And Will, standing on its edge, with his back to it, looking directly at Hannibal — as if he knew where he was, as if he knew where to look. His lips began to move and Hannibal stared at them, reading the words they formed.

‘Thank you for not removing the stag. I wasn’t sure you would keep it. My entrance to Hell… the last piece of my plan. It’s true, only you have the power to kill the Highest Beings, but the place where you reign has the same ability. I know you well — too well, perhaps. Such a curious creature like you wouldn’t be able to make a decision, torn between wanting to keep me and wanting to destroy me — wanting to toy with me. So, I will make that choice for you. Good-bye… Hannibal.’

Hannibal’s eyes widened when he saw Will take that last, small step — and disappear within the chasm.

“No!” he cried before he could stop himself, suddenly, unexpectedly terrified. He wasn’t thinking as he threw himself into the pile of smoke, disappearing and reappearing in the middle of the chasm, thinking in forgotten, suffocating despair, ‘It’s not too late, it can’t be too late, it can’t…’

It seemed like even in his unexplainable panic, he had managed to calculate the distance correctly — a second later Will landed right into his waiting arms, looking calm, as if he hadn’t been one step from death.

Hannibal clutched him with awful, bewildering tenderness, burying his face in his dark, curly hair, inhaling its scent deeply.

“You are mine,” he murmured, not fully understand his own words. “I created you, so you belong to me.”

He was drowning in this — this confusing affection, these warmth and greediness and possessiveness he had never felt before, didn’t know what to do with.

Now that he was seeing Will, he wasn’t sure he could stop.

Mindlessly, he kissed Will’s temple, then his face, his neck, still holding him, trembling with desire to tear into him, to leave him a shaking, bleeding mess — and then to tend to his wounds, to lick them clean and start everything over again.

One who had witnessed his emotional downfall. One who existed solely for him. Who wasn’t scared of him. One who… understood him?

“You are mine,” he said again, leaned back and froze, seeing a victorious, malicious smile on Will’s face. However, it disappeared quickly, and Hannibal was back to cradling him, feeling strangely, unexplainably complete.

The violet lighting storm swirled around them — Alana making her presence known, but Hannibal didn’t pay her any mind. His eyes were glued to one specific being in his arms, one that he didn’t intend to let go, even if he had no idea what to do with him.

Hannibal kissed him again, following a foreign, heated impulse. As he continued to shower Will’s flawless skin with kisses, he heard a soft whisper, “What about my crown, Hannibal?”

“You cannot rule Hell with me. Why would I give you a crown? Even I don’t wear one,” Hannibal retorted, too distracted to look up.

He heard a satisfied chuckle, and then the violet storm ensnared them both, carrying them back to the surface.

“Mine,” Will said, his voice frightening in its triumphant deadliness. Hannibal didn’t understand what he meant, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

He would think about it later, when this haze was over.

If it would ever be over.

#hannibal #hannigram #my fics #ravage #hannibal lecter #will graham

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rayne-storm · 3 years

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AUgust 5 - Science Fiction

Cooking With Crewmates - Hannigram & Among Us

This is some violent self-indulgent garbage, and also by far the longest thing I've written for AUgust so far, and I've had to edit this intro to fit the Tumbl's block limit. Contains violence and gore inherent in the fandoms. Possibly extraordinarily ooc. No beta, we die like men.

William Graham had not always wanted to do space things. In fact, if you had asked him ten years earlier if he would ever want to do anything on a space station, he would have flipped you off and run the other direction. He hated being cramped up. He hated not having control of his immediate situation. He would never describe himself as "works well with others" in any capacity.

Yet there he was.

In a fucking tin can in space. With a horrible murderer loose.

Fuck.

And all he could do was grumble as he went about his day, desperately trying to repair a rapidly failing piece of garbage, trying to avoid air vents and being followed anywhere.

His antisocial tendencies had never come so in handy.

There was one member of the team, however, that seemed determined to undermine his self-imposed Exile. The ship's cook and doctor (everyone tried to do double-duty where they could) Hannibal Lecter seemed hellbent on following him everywhere, and it would have been cute if it weren't so frustrating.

The other man wore bright red, with (of all damn things) a chef's hat on top of his helmet. He stood out, in every way possible. Admittedly, Will's little clip-on dog ears weren't the most subtle of accessories, but at least he was a solid color and could blend into shadows if he so wished. Like a ninja. Not like a fire engine.

But it was sweet, kind of, how insistent the older man was that he be with Will so often. He seemed to get his tasks done quickly, and his cooking really was delicious. It was enough, almost, to make Will forget there was a gruesome murderer on the loose.

Almost.

The first time he saw a dead body was back on Earth. He had, for a time, worked with the FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit. He had a sort of "superpower" to be able to get into people's heads, hyper-empathy they called it. He could still remember that first case. It didn't haunt him like it used to, but it was there, the first in a file-folder in his mind that he kept locked tight until he had space to process the things inside.

The things he had seen on this ship were leagues beyond the worst cases on Earth. These bodies weren't just dismembered, they were ripped apart, like they had encountered some kind of… well, creature. Whatever had done the things he was seeing wasn't human. It simply wasn't possible.

He had to reevaluate a lot of personal beliefs very quickly.

The crew eventually came to the conclusion that whatever was doing this to their members was hiding Among Them. They decided on the moniker of "imposter" for the thing.

Now to figure out who it was.

Will had his suspicions. Of everyone, unfortunately. But suspicion kept him alive on Earth, it would work alright here too. Especially as there were fewer and fewer people left.

Will imagined how it would go, if he were face to face with whatever had been destroying their Crewmates. He never came out alive. Best-case was he would airlock it and shoot it into space. Like they had done to several people already (he had refused to participate).

Curiously, Hannibal had also refused to vote, or participate in the discussion. Will wondered if it had anything to do with the Hippocratic Oath, or just personal morals. The strange thing was that the doctor didn't get nearly as much protest against his refusal to participate in these death sentences as Will did. Something about the man radiated this calm, cool authority that Will guessed people just accepted.

Whatever the case, he supposed it didn't hurt that the man was seemingly always on his side.

"They condemn you because they do not understand," Doctor Lecter had murmured to him one evening as another crewmate was launched into the cold void of space.

"Don't understand what?"

"You feel their pain as if you were the one out there, freezing and choking."

Will looked down, shaking his head. He knew that in the empty vacuum of space, ship walls between them, he couldn't really hear the screams, but he felt his ears ring all the same.

"Who are we to play God?"

"I think God must be laughing at this. He kills all the time, and are we not created in His image?"

Will felt a shudder ripple through him. Whether fear or something else entirely he wasn't certain.

He knew he was in trouble, falling way too hard for this mysterious doctor chef. It was ridiculous, frankly, to have even remotely romantic feelings for a fire-hydrant in a chef's hat, but here he was. He wondered numbly if Hannibal had any sort of reciprocity, feeling something for the little edgelord wolf boy Will was dressed up as.

He didn't have to wonder long.

He was in his private quarters after a long day of doing medical scans and fixing wires (reminding him so much of his former hobby of tying his own fly-fishing lures), and was halfway out of his suit when there was a knock at the door.

He debated putting the bulky gear back on, but chose against it, instead walking to the door and opening the little peephole.

It was… an extremely handsome man, in a tweed suit of all things. Will realized immediately who it was when he saw the gorgeous dish of food the man was carrying.

"Doctor Lecter?"

"Please, just Hannibal. We are friends, are we not?"

Will couldn't help but smile. Yes, somehow, despite everything, they were friends. Possibly more?

Will opened the door, stepping back, and he realized that they had never actually seen each other before, without the privacy afforded to them by their suits.

Hannibal was so much more than a red space man with (again) a comical hat. He was slender, and older than Will had initially anticipated. His hair was combed back neatly, and his gorgeous cheekbones looked like they could cut glass. His eyes were just as lovely, and Will realized he was staring only as he became aware Hannibal was as well.

Will wondered what the other man thought of him beneath the wolf ears. He knew he was scruffy and unkempt, far more so now in front of this immaculately groomed man. But Hannibal was looking at him like he was something… beautiful. He felt himself blushing.

Hannibal caught himself and smiled, glancing down as he stepped inside the room. He set the food down on the little table in the room, and Will shut the door behind him.

Hannibal took some cutlery from an inside jacket pocket, setting it down on either side of the dish.

"I didn't see you at dinner tonight, and I thought it might be kind to bring you some food myself."

Will smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Thank you. That is very considerate. It looks and smells amazing."

He sat carefully, wary that he still had his suspenders that attached his suit bottoms to him. He was rather mismatched. But Hannibal didn't seem to care.

He sniffed the meal experimentally, it was some type of meats and noodles in a thick dark sauce.

"What culinary delight have you served me tonight, doc- Hannibal?"

Will caught the little grin that the other man tried to stifle at the mention of his name.

"Teriyaki udon. With blackened chicken."

Will nodded.

"Will you partake as well, or..?"

"Oh, no, I ate earlier. Please, feel free."

Will nodded again, taking a cautious bite.

It was amazing, like everything the man cooked.

He couldn't suppress a small groan of delight, and he didn't mess the slight shiver that seemed to run down Hannibal's body. Interesting…

He devoured the meal, though he did try to at least remember his table manners. He felt embarrassed, honestly, but Hannibal looked so damn happy.

"I am so glad you like it," Hannibal murmured with a smile, packing the container and cutlery away.

"And, I must say, you are… exquisite. If we survive this ordeal, would… could…" he paused, glancing down, and Will felt jitters.

"I would, yes," he answered.

Hannibal blushed - blushed! - and smiled.

"That… makes me extraordinarily happy. Thank you, Will, I… I am so glad I have met you."

Will smiled and nodded. "I am too."

Hannibal ducked his head and waved as he stepped back out into the ship.

Will couldn't help smiling as he watched the man walk away.

This became their routine. A break from the monotony of every day, both the anxiety and the boredom. Will felt himself growing ever more attached to his companion, and found that he no longer disliked the doctor's seeming constant desire to be nearby as Will worked. In fact, Will would sometimes speed through his other tasks just to be able to meet Hannibal in Medbay as Hannibal finished his work.

Their evenings were spent together usually with Will eating something amazing Hannibal prepared, the other abstaining due to having eaten already. That was fine. They were together, talking about everything and nothing, confiding secrets. Will told Hannibal about his panic attacks, about how he couldn't work on Earth at the BAU because he felt himself becoming some kind of monster.

Hannibal in turn revealed his own tragic childhood, and confided that the Imposter (and subsequent hunts and ejection) made him uneasy enough to keep a knife on his personal at all times. His left rear pocket, he said, "in case something happens."

They tried to avoid that sort of talk, though. It just led to somber silences.

Mostly, Will enjoyed talking about folklore and food. Two universals of humanity. Hannibal had rich tapestries of experience in both, and Will was content to listen to his companion speak for hours on end, well into the night.

Will wondered, sometimes, when Hannibal walked back to his own quarters, what would happen if Will asked him to stay. To just… be with him, through the night. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He wondered what would happen if they survived this. What would happen if it came down to just themselves and the monster hiding in the ship.

Will knew, without a doubt now, he would die for Hannibal.

It didn't matter if that wasn't reciprocal.

One evening, they were down to six, and Will and Hannibal were having dinner (Will was eating, Hannibal talking). There was a knock at the door and Hannibal frowned as he stood to see who it was. He didn't make it to the door when it was forced open and their three remaining Crewmates were there, running in and seizing Will.

"It's you!" Pink screamed.

Will looked around, confused and terrified as hands grabbed at him, dragging him literally kicking and screaming from his own room.

"What?! What's- hey! Stop-!"

The crew didn't pause as they dragged him out, one staying by to keep Hannibal from following.

"We always knew you were a creepy little freak, but damn, Graham, I can't believe we've been so blind."

"It's not me! What the fuck?!"

"It has to be you. You and the Doc were the only two missing when we found the body, and we all know it's not him."

Will tried to process everything happening. He counted, there were only three people surrounding him and Hannibal, who was still shouting (he had never seen the man so upset, so animated), and it clicked.

It was Hannibal.

All this time, the man he was falling for was the monster he was afraid of.

He felt like the realization should have hit harder, should have hurt more, but…

Well it didn't really change much, now.

Hannibal was still the only one who had shown him a shred of decency. Hannibal listened to him, consoled him, cooked for him… cared for him.

Will felt everything move in slow motion. He met Hannibal's eyes. He saw the fear there, of what he couldn't be certain.

He felt a wave of calm come over him. All of this proof, and the crew still had not put it together (he, at least, had been blinded by affection and antisocial tendencies). Hannibal would almost certainly win this morbid game.

He didn't expect Hannibal to go full monster.

His jaw unhinged like a snake's, and his nails became claws, and there was just a pile of meat where the crewman holding him back once had been.

Everything stopped. The pair holding him let go and Will fell to the floor with a sharp cry, the air leaving his lungs all at once. He tried to catch his breath as Hannibal turned to the Crewmates. Will saw how terribly inhuman he seemed, even without the snake-jaw and claws, in the cold light in his eyes, the hard line of his mouth, the fury that Will could tell was bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You!!"

Will wheezed a chuckle. It was so obvious now to him. How Hannibal had almost always just "eaten," how he had so much knowledge about so many things, how he seemed to finish his tasks so quickly. He had attached himself to Will, who protested the ejections, who never noticed whether Hannibal could complete their tasks or not…

Will had to wonder if any of it was real. If he fell in love with a monster incapable of returning his feelings. It had felt real, had felt mutual, he knew he had seen affection in the man's eyes as they talked.

Maybe Hannibal could fake it. But it had been real enough for Will, realer than the simpering cowards who were rapidly backing away, cowering behind Will. As he got to his feet, one shoved him back down, towards Hannibal. Hannibal glanced down at him, worry briefly passing through his gaze as he continued to walk towards the pair of fools.

Will panted, slowly working his way back up to his feet, leaning against a wall. Hannibal stalked towards his prey, and Will was surprised at his own feelings of vicious satisfaction.

They deserved this. They deserved to suffer for all the lives they'd taken in their squabbling.

Hannibal reached towards the pair, a thick black… something… stretching from his hand and wrapping it around the pink crewmate. It squeezed, and with a sickening crunch, that crewmate was no more.

Will staggered towards the action, and saw the remaining figure pulling their gun up, aiming at Hannibal, still busy mutilating the pink body.

Time slowed down for Will. He ran, as fast as he could, reaching for Hannibal.

Back right pocket.

He felt the knife in Hannibal's pocket, gripping it as he felt himself fall, then what his brain could only describe as a chair leg punching through his chest. He gripped the knife as he lay on the ground, and while Hannibal had his attention torn between the crewmate and himself, Will threw the knife.

He hoped that his sense of aim was at least passible and as he felt himself starting to black out, all he could think was that he had been right.

He would die for Hannibal.

He hadn't expected to wake up, later. He gasped and sat up, hands reaching blindly, frantically, into nothing. A burst of pain in his chest forced him back down, and he nearly blacked out again.

He looked around, body slick with sweat as he panicked, looking around to figure out where he was, mind trying to figure out what had happened.

He felt a gentle pressure by his feet, and a warm hand pressed to his forehead.

"Welcome back, Will."

That was Hannibal's voice. Quiet, sure. Perhaps it was his own confusion, but Will could have sworn there was something… different. Perhaps a bit of a warble that inferred something beyond the man's usual brand of steady confidence.

It didn't matter.

"I… you… you're okay?"

Hannibal came into view, the same composed man in the tweed suit.

"I am. You very nearly weren't, my silly, foolish, brace Will…" he murmured, sitting down by Will's side.

Will looked down, his chest was covered in bandages, a couple little tubes running from them. So he really had been shot.

"Why did you do that? Why did you put yourself in the way?" Hannibal sounded nearly… angry.

"Because I couldn't lose you," Will croaked.

Hannibal's hand stroked Will's hair, soothing, tender, nothing one might expect from a creature that had done so much damage.

"Even though you knew what I was?"

"You were the lesser evil in my eyes."

"And what now? Will you try to flee as soon as you are well? Will you kill me yourself?"

Will chuckled softly, leaning into the warm hand.

"Seems a bit pointless. I'd starve to death without your cooking."

Hannibal managed a smile, though it was very nearly a grimace, and Will realized with some amusement (and some sadness) that there were tears in the man's eyes.

"Hey now, I'm the one with a hole in my body, no crying," Will chided gently, his own hand reaching out to wipe the tears away.

"I am sorry. I never intended to… get so attached."

Will hummed in agreement. He hadn't either. But that's what they got for being lonely fools, he supposed.

"Just to clarify," Will started, carefully adjusting, "did you feed me my Crewmates?"

That would be… problematic, to say the least, but he would understand.

"I… yes."

"To get rid of evidence?"

"Partially. Partially to… initiate you."

Into what? Was there some kind of monster cult? Hannibal saw his confusion and continued.

"I… wondered, perhaps, if you would… ever consider becoming… more. Than you are. Becoming the purest form of yourself."

"Becoming like you, you mean," Will interpreted, and Hannibal nodded.

"I confess, it gave me great excitement to think about."

Will could imagine. Hannibal must have been even more alone than Will felt, with no one truly understanding anything about him.

"Why not finish it?"

"I would need your consent. I could, in theory, turn you, but…"

Hannibal looked down.

"I would rather you kill me than resent me for turning you against your will. I knew you would likely starve yourself in protest. I… I could not watch you do that."

It was the most vulnerable Will thought he had ever seen Hannibal. There was something deeply endearing about it.

"Well, now what, then? Will you turn me now? If I consent?"

Hannibal looked up at him, tears even greater than they had been.

"You would want to become such a thing?"

"I think I would. If it means I can be with you. If you'll have me."

Will scarcely had time to blink when Hannibal's lips were on his own, and those tender arms were cradling him to the monstrous man's chest.

For such a powerful creature, Hannibal seemed so delicate and fragile now. Will carefully returned the embrace, mewling into the kiss.

He'd never felt like this before. He felt… known. Perceived, all that he was. He loved it.

"Are there many like us?" He murmured as Hannibal pulled away to rest their foreheads together.

"No, there is no one like us."

Will chuckled softly.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I can't say I do, please enlighten me."

"Now you're teasing me."

"I would never," Hannibal purred softly.

"Right, right. I mean, are there more, I guess, imposters? What are we called?"

"Probably. I never cared to know any before. All I need, all I desire, is here, with you."

Will laughed, shaking his head.

"You're lucky you're so charming."

"I am. I'm lucky you appreciate my special brand of charm."

Will hummed in agreement, leaning up for another kiss. He could easily see himself getting addicted to this. It seemed Hannibal could to, because the man was straddling his hips.

"Easy, now, I'm grievously injured, remember? You have to play nice with me," Will teased.

"Of course, of course. Just getting comfortable" Hannibal retorted.

"That so? Well alright, I suppose I can't be mad at that, then."

Hannibal smiled, genuinely, pressing gentle kisses to Will's forehead.

"Don't worry. I'm a patient man. I've waited this long for you, I can manage a few more weeks. Just be patient with me as well. This… is all new."

Will nodded, yawning and adjusting himself again. He felt exhaustion tug at his mind, and though he tried, he couldn't resist just resting his eyes.

"It's alright, my Will. Sleep. You have time to Become something amazing."

#rayne writes #my writing #violence #gore #among us #hannibal #hannigram #not sfw #au gust 2021

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hanniba1 · 4 years

Text

i was tagged by @matthewbrown and @cannnibal for these super fun hannibal questions!! thank you both so much i always love gushing about this show as we know

Favourite episode and why: oh god okay, if i HAD to pick one it’s mizumono. it’s just such a Perfect episode, it’s so ridiculously beautiful down to the tiniest detail, like the ticking clock sound that plays through most the episode???? love it. my other top favorite episodes are secondo, primavera, shiizakana, dolce, naka choko, appertivo, tome wan, trou normand, the wrath of the lamb, the number of the beast is 666, contorno, mukōzuke and su-zakana.

Least favourite episode and why: uhhh, i honestly love them all?? i guess probably either hassun or takiawase?? just they feel the slowest to me i guess.

Favourite side character: jimmy price!!!! i love him so much. i’d say beverly but she’s not a side character in my eyes.

If you could bring back one character who died, who would it be?: abigail because she didn’t deserve to die. i know it held value for the story but i really wish she hadn’t, especially in that way. it’s beautifully tragic and painful but she as a person deserved better.

Dish prepared in the show that you would like to try eating/ making: all of it except the weird ass nietzschean trout and that disgusting jello with the fish in it because those look DISGUSTING. and the frois gras for the same reason as bella. everything else i would try, can’t promise i’d like it but i’d definitely try it.

Which side character would you kill off?: chilton just because for god’s sake just let the man DIE ALREADY poor guy

Was there any scene that you didn’t like to look at?: i’ve talked about it before but the intubation scene is by far the scene that causes me the most discomfort. it feels so much like a rape scene and the symbolism of it, it Is a rape scene, a violation of will’s body. the way hannibal strokes his face i just. yeah. also the lobotomy scene but i have a thing with eyes. other than that the gore never bothers me much, at least not anymore i’ve seen it some many times.

Biggest ship: hannigram obviously like..... why is this even a question

Why did you start watching Hannibal?: i have always been a big fan of the hannibal films, and red dragon was always my favorite so when i found out they were doing a show i was stoked! i watched the first two seasons when it first aired but i lost cable around the time season 3 aired so i didn’t end up finishing it until 2016. so yes, i ended on MIZUMONO and didn’t see any more for TWO YEARS. it was traumatic.

Favourite Hannibal fic if you’ve read any?: okay i went through a period of like 3 months where i just Binge read them and they were all good but they’ve sort of blurred together. but a few that really stuck out for me were

Blackbird

Two Solitudes

As soft, as wide as air

Of Putrefaction, Saccharine (lol this one fucked me UP and i CRIED)

I Didn’t Know It Could Be Like This (part 1) & If The World Burned to Ash, Still We Would Remain (part 2)

What We Talk About When We Talk About Blood (i never read the second part bc it’s not finished, and i REFUSE to start a incomplete fic)

Change Me (If You Dare)

Have you watched any of the Hannibal films?: yes!! i grew up watching red dragon, silence of the lambs and hannibal. i think i watched silence of the lambs for the first time when i was like 7 or 8 LMAO which explains a lot. the only ones i haven’t seen are hannibal rising and i really wanna watch manhunter!

Have you read the Thomas Harris books?: i’m in the process of reading red dragon, but i most definitely prefer the show.

Favourite murder tableau: in the whole show it’s the prisoner, because the significance it holds for will’s character arc. but if we’re talking about the more traditional murder tableau’s i’m gonna go with cassie boyle’s it’s visually very striking and beautiful in a horribly morbid way.

Favourite blood spill: oh god a lot of them but uhhh, obviously the slaying of the dragon, will imaging slitting hannibal’s throat in tome wan, and then i completely loose my damn mind over will imaging being randall tier in shiizakana when he’s covered in blood and has the antlers coming out of his back i— 👁👄👁

What’re some of your headcanons?: it’s not necessarily a headcanon and more of an analysis but i go absolutely FERAL when i read any meta talking about will holding a more traditionally feminine role in the story of the show, especially talking about him being a gothic heroine. it’s why i loose my mind over any comparisons of hannibal and dracula and will being mina i just [incoherent screaming]. i also obviously love any headcanon’s of dark will graham. it’s something i post about myself a lot because to me it’s not headcanon, it is canon supported throughout the show, that will is killer who wears a person suit the same as hannibal. he’s not just a righteous killer, he has the exact same capacity for violence as hannibal. he just had a harder time accepting it.

i tag (and once again if i double tag y’all i’m sorry!!) @aragima @arunima @horrorcupid @nietzscheantrout @honnibal @hughdancyx @marg0t-verger @serialcannibal @hotgirlhannibal @francisforever and anyone else who wants to do it obviously xx

#🦂#some of my answers are too long oops #tag games #hannibal #long post /

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slashyrogue · 4 years

Note

Don't know if you're taking fic prompts but if so could I ask for a Mage!Hannibal and familiar!Will? There are not alot of fics that seem to have these in them. Also I have been binging on your Hannigram one-shots and can not thank you enough for them!

Familiars were a necessity in magic.

The rise in power you could experience with the right one was immeasurable, and without one you would have a hard time doing magic at all.

Hannibal Lecter had gone through seven familiars.

Every single one of them had died, and not by his own hand. He simply could not find the right familiar, and as the years went by he hard difficulty finding any unbonded that would risk death in order to achieve the spark of recognition. His endless rolodex of contacts soon fizzled to nothing, and as he neared his forty seventh birthday he was quite certain magic was behind him.

Yes, mages were the upper crest of society and letting his already fading magic disappear would make him human. But humanity was not a death sentence, and he had other extracurricular activities to pass the time.

Hannibal liked killing people.

Murder was an outlet for the magic he could no longer use, a conduit that made the tightness in his chest disappear with each spill of blood. Which was why it seemed so fitting that murder is what finally led him to the perfect familiar.

Will Graham was an unstable empath who had no idea he was a familiar, of that Hannibal was quite sure. His fever dreams and erratic behavior were a result of being unbonded for so long as most familiars were bonded before they were in their twenties. The moment they met Hannibal’s heart leapt in his chest.

Mr. Graham was meant to be his.

He could feel it.

The hostility that Will gave instead of recognition soured Hannibal’s joy but he was determined. He would woo Will into trusting him, and in the end they would bond.

Sessions followed their first meeting that soon melded into friendship. Hannibal learned more about Will, and felt his warmth even so far away. He waited, hoping, until many weeks into their tentative relationship to bring up the topic of magic. Will had been to at least two different murders of Hannibal’s and immediately latched onto the cause. He knew him, despite not really knowing him at all.

They were sitting in his office sharing a drink when he said the words, though Will’s reaction was not favorable.

“Magic?” Will asked, wrinkling his nose, “I’ve never met a mage who wasn’t a pompous know it all. Magic seems to make people think they’re better than everyone else.”

Hannibal sipped his wine. “Are they not better than others below them? Not everyone has their ability.”

“You’re not better than everyone else just because you can do something others can’t. People get lucky, that’s all. Everyone can do something, but mages....”

“Your abilities could be called magical,” Hannibal offered, his hand shaking a bit when he put the glass on the table beside him, “No one can do what you can.”

“I’m not....”

“Do you dream, Will? About things other than murder?”

Will pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“But do you?”

He looked at his hands. “I do.”

“What do you dream about?”

“A person,” Will whispered, “I can’t see their face but they’re with me. They’re always with me.”

Hannibal’s heart leapt in his chest. “How do you feel during these dreams?”

Will looked up, and his eyes were filled with unshed tears. “Wanted.”

“Will....”

He started to get up off the chair and Hannibal rose to stop his retreat. Their closeness wasn’t uncommon but they had never been this near. Hannibal could feel Will’s breath across his lips.

“Hannibal....”

Hannibal took Will’s hand in his and the feeling made them both gasp. The heat between them rose the longer they touched. “Will, I’ve....been deceiving you.”

“What?”

He raised a finger on his free hand and forced a blue flame to appear. It was dim, hardly anything, but Will’s wide eyes made it seem like everything.

“You’re a mage?”

“I am,” he whispered, squeezing Will’s hand, “And you are my familiar.”

“What?”

“I know it, Will,” he said, his voice thick, “I’ve known since the moment I laid eyes on you and I’ve been waiting for so very long to find my destined familiar that I was afraid to....”

“I’m not a familiar,” Will said, shaking his head, “I’m not.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“If you’re not a familiar then trying to filter through you will do nothing. Humans cannot carry magic, and it will diminish my own to nothing if I’m wrong. Do you trust me to try?”

Will was shaking against him, his face flushed, and Hannibal had never seen him look so beautiful. “But you...you’ll lose it all?”

“I’ve nearly lost it already,” Hannibal whispered, “I was impatient.”

“Hannibal....”

“Please, Will?”

A slight nod was all Hannibal needed to take both his hands. He felt Will’s untapped power lurking beneath the pain, and let it loose. The groan that came from Will when he conjured was feral, desperate in its need, and the result appeared all around the room.

Dogs.

He’d thought of what may make Will feel happy and given it to him.

There were at least twenty, if not more, and as fast as they appeared the dogs were gone. Hannibal fell forward, gasping, and felt Will’s hands in his hair.

“Where....?”

“I’m not strong enough yet,” Hannibal whispered, “I’ve...been without for quite some time.”

“I could feel you,” Will said, “Inside me. You were in there and I wanted you there. I...I want you there all the time.”

Hannibal looked up at him.

“Those words....I....I’m afraid I must be honest again if we are to take this further.”

Will smiled. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t tell me.”

“I must.”

“Hannibal....”

Hannibal squeezed their hands together. “I’m the Chesapeake Ripper. I’ve killed....more people than I can even remember.”

Will’s eyes widened. “You’re the Magic Man, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He watched the spark go out of Will’s eyes.

“Get off me.”

“Will, please.”

“You honestly think I’m...just...god I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Will pushed him off and rushed from the office straight to the bathroom. Hannibal ran after him, hovering, and when he finished he turned to look at him again.

The scorn in his eyes made Hannibal’s heart break.

“You honestly think I would just fall into your arms after....fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

Will slammed his hand against the toilet seat, eyes wet with tears, and he didn’t move.

“We’re meant to be together, Will.”

“Yeah, we are,” Will said, standing, “But right now, I’d rather die never feeling as good as I felt again than bond with you.”

Hannibal watched him go, defeated, and the minute Will was gone he let out a burst of magic that exploded through the room.

If this is what came with finding forever, he’d rather be human.

The pain would be much less.

#hannigram au #asks #prompts #mage hannibal #familiar will #always with the cliffhangers aren't I? lol #Anonymous

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subskywalker · 3 years

Note

What’s your favorite show(s)?😊

Thanks for sending this love!🧡🧡🧡😊😊😩

I have so many so imma list them I no particular order! All the others I’ve seen before so the only one I’m gonna talk about is Girl From Nowhere since that the latest one I’ve started!

1). Girl From Nowhere

Okay this one I had seen on Metflix and it was on my to be watched list! Then I saw one of my fave youtuber’s/podcaster’s talk about two episodes from the series and I had to watch it!! So I started szn 1 last night and now I’m on szn 2 ep 6. 100000/10 I do recommend. It’s so damn good, anywhere from the writi jug to the characters and the plot!! It’s anthology series and each ep is a different plot! But the main character is the same in every ep and szn 2 is the same way except a new character also got introduced alongside the main character and the two have an overall szn long plot/character arc.

2). Hannibal

Listen this show??? Fucking chefs list!!! I may be bused but this show just hits different!!! If you know me you know that Hannibal is one of the first fandoms that made me actually fall in love with writing. (Tbh Hannibal as a fandom and murder husbands/hannigram share that spot with one other ship and fandoms that got me into writing and falling in love with it and made me the writer I am!) The way Hannibal and Will dance around each other through the seasons!!! The way they’re in love!!! The characters the writing!!!! Hannibal is that show that I honestly judge/rank when watching mother shows like it (although tbh no show imo did what Hannibal did).

3). Westworld

Tbh I didn’t think I’d like this as much as I did!! But the plot and the characters won me over! The plot twists imo were amazingly done and the whole world building is just honestly amazing???? Like holy shit y’all the amount of time I got shooketh when watching this!!

4). Sharp Objects

This mini series is one that’s just....FUCKING WOW!!! A crime drama and one that really stuck out to me! The characters are so damn interesting to me and the plot oh my goodness 😩😩😩

5). Euphoria

Tbh I watched this bc Zendaya was in it and the plot/premise drew me in. And I can honestly say I wasn’t disappointed at all when I started this show, especially with the two special episodes Rue and Jules (part 1 and 2 respectfully).

6). Star Wars: The Clone Wars

DO I EVEN HAVE TO EXPLAIN!!! By far my favorite Star Wars show and one that hurts me every single time I watch it! The arcs the new characters that were introduced throughout the series!!! And like when I first watched it and knowing what was gonna happen I still couldn’t help but hope that mayhaps Anakin won’t do the thing 😭😭

7). The Mandalorian

Just!!!! Chefs kiss I cry!!!!

Ask me my favorite anything :)

#inquiries #lovely anon #ask games

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stratsandwhiskeywritestuff · 4 years

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Q+A With Strats and Whiskey!

We held a brief Q+A over on our Twitter, and had some awesome questions come in! We’ll post em here too for everyone to see. Have questions for us too? Hit us up on Twitter or in our ask box :D we’d love to hear from you!

Questions include asking us about the collaborative process, about writing kink together, the trust that takes, what characters we love writing most and our thoughts on writing in general!

PaleGlimmer: I asked about collab writing because I have no idea how you make it work.

WHISKEY: I’ve been collaborating on stories since I got into Hannibal. For me, it started as an offshoot of online RP. If you go back far enough you can see that, because the writing is stilted and jumpy, and you can tell that two people are writing. I’ve had three major collab partners in my fandom life and after a time our “voices” and styles start to gel and it becomes more seamless. That, for me, means that’s the right partner to write with, because you start taking on their mannerisms and descriptions, and they take on yours, and people can’t tell (or can tell very vaguely) that two people wrote a story.

As for technicalities, we just “tag” each other with part of the story for the other to continue it. Sometimes it’s short tags, dialogue, or brief descriptions, other times we get carried away (in the best way possible) and end up writing 6k a day. With Strats and I, we started with preferential characters and usually tagged for just them, but now we cover everything and everyone in our tags.

STRATS: Whiskey covered this pretty well. With Whiskey, We share characters pretty evenly now, and just write about 200-300 word chunks back and forth, but there are definitely characters we each feel more comfortable with. And scenarios we both excel at! Even if I haven’t written much, I’ll tag Whiskey in if we are coming up on something Whiskey is better at, and vice versa. (For example, Whiskey is much better at pretentious Hannibal speeches than I am, and I have a particular fondness for writing emotional breakdowns. This doesn’t mean we are the only person to write those, of course, just that we tag each other in more often.)

If I’m writing with anyone else, I usually write the same way. There’s only one person I’ll still do RP-style writing with. Usually I try to match my partner’s style, so for example, when I wrote with YAMD I focused a lot more on detailed descriptions than I usually do. I can’t really describe it, I just try to align with how my partner writes.

I’M NOT VERY HELPFUL, SORRY :D

Cuttlefishcatfish:

1. What do you love about writing?

STRATS: When you finally get to that moment, that scene you’ve been thinking about for AGES, the one you have entirely plotted for weeks.

Also, writing emotional breakdowns. Give me a sobbing panic attack any day.

WHISKEY: The moment you hit the flow point and everything just makes sense; either an idea just CLICKS or you finally get over that plot point you were worried about and you are racing through.

2. What do you hate about writing?

STRATS: god why haven’t we yet invented a way for me to think words onto the page? I’M SO TIRED.

WHISKEY: That meme? The one that goes like “I need this very specific fic and I need it immediately… which means I need to write it… but I just wanna read it, not write it”. That.

3. One writing tip that you could give to other writers.

STRATS: When I was a teenager I came across some writing advice from an author I loved (I want to say Steven King, but it’s been years). The advice was “sit down and actually write.” And I was PISSED. As a teenager struggling with motivation, I hated that advice.

Now I’m almost 27 and I can safely say that the best writing advice I can give you is JUST FUCKING WRITE THE THING. Even on days I feel like my writing is garbage, I force out a bit of garbage. Force your way through the shitty parts so you can get to the fun parts. You can always go back and edit the shitty parts later (and often it turns out they weren’t as shitty as you thought they were).

WHISKEY: Practice. I’m sorry, I’m trite and boring but honestly that’s the only way you will get better, get into a habit of writing all the time, and start to find your own voice. Practice even just 100 words a day, coz that’s 100 words more than you had yesterday.

4. One overused word in fanfics?

WHISKEY: Oh god our beta actually points these out now haha! I’m terrible for teeth/tongue/lip action (he tongued the corner of his mouth, flashed his teeth, bit his lip)

STRATS: any time someone’s smile “quirks up at the corners” or you read the words “fluttering/thrumming pulse,” that’s me. It’s always me. I have been called out on the hummingbird pulse before.

5. Have you guys disagreed on a story direction? If yes, how do you resolve that?

WHISKEY: I don’t think we have *disagreed* really, once in a while we find that a story doesn’t flow how it should, and we start over, or a character we had planned in our head ends up written differently on a tag. In that case we usually just ping the other and explain what we were after (we have a chat always open alongside writing) and figure out what works best for the story. I can think of a couple times that’s happened and it’s always a super chill and fair affair; both of us have “won” those kinds of things before.

STRATS: We gel really well together, and often our stories are at least loosely planned out from the beginning, so it doesn’t come up much. Every once in a while one of us says “so I don’t think this is working” and we usually do our best to find a way to change it around. It’s not really “fun” to write together if you’re making your partner write something they aren’t happy with, so we try to take each other’s opinions into account.

6. How did you guys manage to let the other into your thought process? Writing is intimate. With a writing partner, that person knows what your kinks, opinions about things, etc. are. Was it scary to let that person in and see you being vulnerable with your works? This is assuming that you let your personality bleed through your stories.

So, this is an awesome question actually, thanks for asking it, and the answer might sound a bit weird so bear with us! We both get a bit of a (major) crush on our writing partners when we write, and after. Not in a way that would be considered cheating or manipulative but in a way that is… intimate. You said it right that it’s intimate. Neither of us want to date the other (besides, Strats is married) but we love each other and spend a lot of time together with our writing.

There is a lot of trust there, and opening up is a process. I think with Strats and I, we started talking about a kink we shared (human furniture) and it sort of bled out from there. “Oh, I also like bondage! And I’m a huge fan of cock and ball torture, you into that?” and it grew from there.

There were some kinks that we came across that we’d both agree were not our jam and we’d just put them away, and there were some kinks that at one point were not one of our kinks but now we share them. These are interesting ones because it happened absolutely organically; neither of us ever push the other into kinks we know make the other uncomfortable, but we do offer the chance, if one of us is so inclined.

For Whiskey this was ABO and feminization, for Strats it’s underage. Once in a while we’ll push a little to see how we feel about those things, but there’s always a carte blanche to back out if anything makes us uncomfortable. It’s honestly such a safe place to explore these things that we really love it. Also both of us are super kinky and very open about it so there’s usually VERY little (if any) filter when we talk sex/kink.

Blue Posey: Where do you get the ideas from? Your stories are so varied.

WHISKEY: We shamelessly pluck ideas from the Hannigram Kinkmeme on Discord, we have about 150 saved in a spreadsheet that we random number generate from when we want a new idea. Sometimes it’s AUs of movies or other shows that we like, sometimes it’s just an idea that we’ve had that we put out into the void and one of us will freak out and connect it to something.

STRATS: we also both keep track of twitter and tumblr and will send each other prompts based on those. We are following quite a few non-fandom porn accounts…

and of course, sometimes I wake up at four am and text whiskey absolute gibberish and in the morning we write a fic.

Christina Shinn: I always like knowing about what gets writers really excited about their own fics. How writers overcome their writer's block. What motivates writers. What are some pet peeves of writers. YAY! Love your fics!

WHISKEY: 1. I get excited about fics I know people are excited about. If Strats pings me with a story idea and she’s stoked about it, I’ll catch that fever and be entirely into exploring that story. Likewise if someone commissions us or requests a story that really digs its heels in.

STRATS: 1) I’ve gotten a LITTLE less vain now that I do commissions and gifts for other people, but generally, every single thing I have written is something I’ve wanted to read, and so I love rereading it. Sometimes I’ll cringe at a typo or a mistake or an awkward line, but overall, I love everything I write. I have spent hours retreading my own fics before. Write the kind of story you want to read!

WHISKEY: 2. Writer’s block is an asshole and honestly I have no actual “fix it” for you; collab writing definitely helps because you have someone to soundboard off of, but even then sometimes we find ourselves just stuck. That’s when we start yet another original story XD

STRATS: 2) Writer's block occasionally eats me alive. If it’s REALLY hitting you, take a day off. It’s okay. Take a break. Do something fun.

But once that day is over WRITE THE THING. Write something terrible. Just do it. You can always fix it later

WHISKEY: 3. Collab writing is hugely motivating for me, it’s an immediate and awesome feedback loop of love. You tag, you send it off, and someone FINDS THAT IDEA COOL ENOUGH TO CONTINUE and ping you back, and you have new material to work with that didn’t come out of your head and… it’s great, it really is. Also feedback from readers. Even if it’s critique (note: not “I hated this” but “this could have been done differently imo”) it’s a great way to keep growing and moving as a writer.

STRATS: 3) collab writing is really motivating for me because I am a Guilt Monster and other people are relying on me. For my own stuff, I’m motivated because I’m writing something I like. Something I want to reread later.

If a story isn’t working for you (and it isn’t required for some sort of work or whatever), stop writing it. Go write something you like. It’s okay to say “actually, I don’t want to write this one anymore.”

WHISKEY: 4. I think every writer has a pet peeve regarding their own headcanons. Some people hate endearments with a pairing, but have their own pet names that work for them in their personal headcanon. In others’ work? There are certain things that irk me, but they’re also entirely personal. If I feel that a character has been written really OOC in a fic that is marked as canon for instance, it grinds my gears. THAT SAID that’s also the writer’s own prerogative.

STRATS: 4) I have too many pet peeves to mention because I am a snob, but I still have relatively low standards for what I’ll read, so I’ve read a vast variety of things.

Besides what Whiskey said about characterization, I have a few aspects of life that I’m somewhat knowledgeable about, and I can’t stand when people get it WRONG. Special mention goes to people writing children badly, which is the entire reason Family of Choice exists. If you don’t have children or know children, PLEASE do some research into child development before you write them. It drives me up the wall when kids are doing things they shouldn’t be at that age. NEWBORNS. DON’T. GIGGLE.

#stratsandwhiskeywritestuff #stratumgermanitivum #collab writing #hannigram #spacedogs #hannibal #will graham #nbchannibal #nbc hannibal #Q+A #twitter

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nera-solani · 5 years

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“Post the first line of your last 10 published fics, then tag 10 people.”

I saw this because of the lovely @pingnova, thank you ^^

Here I go digging...

1. What the Future brings (X-Men: First Class) May 2019

(Complete but not completely posted yet.)

If you could change the future, would you do it?

2. The Courting Habits of Killers (Hannibal) April 2019

(Very murderous WIP)

Grey stone walls. That’s all Will has been seeing in the past couple weeks. It’s terribly dull, but at least his mind is clear enough now to even realize dullness in the first place.

3. Blood Wedding (SPN) April 2019

(sort of a prequel to Jailhouse Rock, very bloody)

They were standing in front of the altar of a tiny church in Las Vegas, grinning like dorks as they slid the ring onto the other’s finger with shaking hands.

4. Jailhouse Rock (SPN) April 2019

(This one was a collaboration with a friend who wrote the smut scene for me, but it still counts!)

They’d been caught. Dean couldn’t say he’d never expected it to happen, but he hadn’t anticipated it so soon.

5. A Killer Joke (Hannibal) March 2019

(My contribution to the Hannigram April fools fic exchange. Probably the weirdest thing I have ever written.)

They had been dating for almost three months and honestly, Will had never felt so compatible with anyone.

6. Our Design (Hannibal) January 2019

(My short contribution to the Hannigram After the Fall zine that didn’t make the cut.)

Will Graham wasn’t the man he used to be. No longer the man who was stuck in a loop of, “Can’t live with him, can’t live without him”, who in his desperation had tried to kill them both. No, a different man had risen from the water, dragged them both to shore.

7. Pool Party (SPN) January 2019

(short prompt fill for the DeanandCas Bingo, there is no swimming pool involved)

They’d been watching those two idiots for a while now. The taller one, Dean, was trying to teach his friend Cas (whatever that might stand for) how to play pool. The emphasis was on trying, because the guy was just terrible at it. But Dean just didn’t give up.

8. Embrace of Wings (SPN) December 2018

(Another short prompt fill for the DeanandCas Bingo)

Dean was acting strange. Well, strange for his standards anyway.

9. Show me your Secrets and I’ll show you Madness (SPN) October 2018

(Written for the DCBB)

“Tell me again, why exactly are we in the woods?” Sue asked irritatedly as she followed her friends through the close standing trees.

10. And I will walk upon the stars (SPN) September 2018

(The final part of my first Destiel series)

Dean died saving someone. It doesn't matter how it happened or where. It doesn't even matter why. All that matters, is that he died doing what he'd always done. Saving people.

Wow I was really productive this year it seems. I skipped the drabbles on my AO3 because they were technically posted before that on Tumblr and I just reposted them on AO3 at some point.

I’m not sure I even know anyone who hasn’t already been tagged once or twice so like... whoever wants to do it, please do! :D

#My fic #personal #tag game

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queerhannibal · 5 years

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I've always wondered what Hannibal, Abigail, and Will's life on the run could've been like had Will had agreed without hesitation to go with them and run away with Hannibal and their "adoptive" daughter. I've always enjoyed stories in fanfics where we see bits or glimpses of the murder husbands with Abigail living here or there under alias names/new made up identities, being a family living together. What do you imagine it would have been like if the thought ever crossed your mind?

It definitely has crossed my mind many times!! It’s really hard to know what that would have looked like since we never actually got anything close to it in the show (just a lot of desire for it) but it was also surprisingly close to actually happening so it’s fun to contemplate

(As I’ve said before I don’t really think the whole murder family shtick would have been the best thing for Abigail but it’s still fun to think about)

I never got the impression that Abigail particularly liked murder and stuff and I can’t imagine Will being comfy with pressuring her to murder unless she indicated she actually wanted to, so I don’t imagine her killing alongside them or anything

But I do picture Will and Hannibal killing together, at least eventually. Will maybe wasn’t entirely ready for that in season two when this was a possibility, but he was getting there and I figure he would get there faster if he’d given in to his affection for Hannibal

I imagine they probably would go to Europe, although they’d definitely keep a lower profile than Hannibal did during the Italy arc; Hannibal in Italy was a desperate man with nothing to lose, and Hannibal with Will and Abigail would be a man who had just about everything he ever wanted (which is definitely something he’d work to protect)

I imagine Will and Hannibal would go from platonic to romantic almost immediately—honestly I think once Will found out Abigail was alive he was 100% willing and inclined to kiss Hannibal so like if that happened under better circumstances (sans stabbing) a kiss almost certainly would occur, or at least a kiss would occur soon after. And from there I mean like they’re gay and in love and both grownups who like sex so like I imagine things would get physical in short order

Hannibal hadn’t really had a chance yet to realize exactly how far he’d be willing to go over his love for Will but I feel like he’d get there. And for Will it was always a matter of fighting his feelings: none of the bullshit they went through was necessary to get him to a place where he could really love Hannibal, he really loved Hannibal all along and didn’t want to give into it because of the bullshit. If we reduce the bullshit we increase the ease with which Will accepts his love for his stupid terrible soulmate

It’s a lot easier to accept his love for a man who mistreated him and killed his friend than it is to accept his love for a man who did all that and also murdered his daughter in front of him while he was bleeding out on the ground after being stabbed by that same man, who then tried to saw his head open to eat his brain, is my thinking

So Hannibal and Will would be gay and happy with each other and I figure things would probably at least be sort of okay for Abigail since Will has some concept of how to be a reasonable human being and it’s not like Hannibal wanted to make her life awful or anything

They’d probably send her to college or at least help her to gather the skills to do something she wanted to do, and she’s a generic-looking white girl who everyone thought was dead so she wouldn’t really have to keep that low of a profile on her own. And of course there would be plenty of money to support her so she wouldn’t have to rush to find something she wanted to spend the rest of her life doing

Hannibal would probably have trouble with the idea of her going away to college but I feel like Will would probably convince him it was a bad idea to just keep her confined to the house all the time and like she’s a smart girl, she knows what the consequences of turning them in would be

Maybe eventually she’d get married to some nice person who never has any idea what her fathers are/were and someday hannigram get to be grandparents. That would be a nice, reasonably safe way for them to get to be in the life of a baby that felt like Theirs without doing something as dumb or immoral as letting Hannibal Lecter be responsible for the raising of an actual child (not to say I don’t love fic where they have a baby bc lord help me I do I’m just sayin that’s really not the ideal environment for a child to grow up in)

I don’t know really, I imagine it would be a pretty normal life, all things considered. They’d have too many dogs and they’d kill people but they’d have jobs and a house and be too proud of their daughter’s accomplishments just like any parents

#hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder family #asks #cassraven #headcanons #mine #sorry this took so long im very sick these days and work has me at full time hours so i can train our new guy

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rilldineth · 4 years

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So a friend of mine told me that given that we are now in 2020, it will be fun if I did a top 20 ships of the past decade for me and boy, did I thought was a good idea and I have decided, why not right? I will be listing them here and...if followers decide to read it...well...

You will quickly notice that probably that most, if not all the ships fall on the following categories: a) rare-ships that are obv not canon; b) ships that are obviously crack; c) ships that had wasted potential, the ones hinted but never happened or briefly happened in canon and writers decided to fuck up. There’s also only one...one RL ship and I am ashamed yet not, but had to list it because I spent a long time hung up on it so don’t judge me.

So yes list...

Before the list, no list is complete without some honorable mentions, these are mostly ships I either got into the hype to recently (not being dedicated for years as the one I will list) or had my fancy then lost it.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Charlastor from Hazbin Hotel (recently got into it)

Clack from Final Fantasy VII

Cloud x Squall from Final Fantasy/KH series.

Hayffie from The Hunger Games.

TodoMomo from Boku Hero no Academia.

Gency from Overwatch series ( on and off )

RinMako from Free!

Terraqua from Kingdom Hearts series.

TOP 20 SHIPS OF THE PAST DECADE

20. Spuhura - Spock x Nyota Uhura (Star Trek original and reboot): Again this was another ship that I liked, since the original series, while everyone was Spirk this and that, I was like,’’yas, yas give me the sweet, sweet Spock and Uhura interactions’ and I was happy the reboot hooked them up, even if that ended dubiously but for a glorious moment, I had it.

19. Swarkles - Barney Stinson x Robin Scherbatsky (HIMYM): This is one of those ships I am bitter, bitter and salty about, there are more in this list in fact next spot is another one. But I loved it and I did think they complimented each other better than the wet noodle they stuck Robin with, they took the time to know the other, grown separately and then together, the episode where Barney proposed to Robin gave me all the feels and it was so sweet, and then fuck the writers deciding to do what they did. It’s no wonder the finale of this show is so hated.

18. Lotura - Lotor x Allura (Voltron Legendary Defender): When they announced a new reboot to Voltron I didn’t think much of it. I had fancied Lotor x Allura in the original series, as dubious as that was, but then I started to watch this Netflix thing and there was something between them, something more tangible and I was happy. It was this strong woman with an equally strong man encouraging her strength and not putting her in the box of the exotic pretty princess, like a certain dude, and wanted to know her mind and interests, they discovered things together and for a brief moment knew peace and I was here so happy that we were getting something good and then fuck the writers again that decided ‘Nah bro, you’re not getting it’ and you know to fuck off again. I will always have fan fiction I guess.

17. VinTi - Vincent Valentine x Tifa Lockhart (Final Fantasy VII series): This is a ship that I think started to like during my second playthrough of the game, I always figured the both could work, both having loved people that for one reason or another couldn’t fully love them back (Lucrecia due to damn guilt and Cloud because of Aerith) and both were mature enough to fit together, I just like them okay.

16. Helsa - Hans x Elsa (Frozen): Truly, I have never made it a secret that I really dislike this movie, I truly do. The only good things were Hans (which I am still huh at the ‘turns out he is evil’ I still call trolls) and Elsa (because of her damn powers) and then the next step was shipping them and honestly, he should have gone for the older sister lmao, they make more sense and there have very nice fiction out there.

15. Yuzuvier - Javier Fernandez x Yuzuru Hanyu (Figure Skating): Ahh, we have reached my dreaded and dark secret only RPF fancy. Be it broship or more, I always liked the friendship and camaraderie these two skaters had with each other, they were rink mates and rivals but above all friends. I was kokoro break when Yuzuru was telling Javi that he couldn’t do it without him and stop it you two. I just like them, they are wholesome.

14. Victuuri - Viktor Nikiforov x Yuuri Katsuki (Yuri!!! On Ice): And here we have another precious figure skating duo when I started to watch this series it was only because it was a figure skating anime and I love figure skating, I never expected to see a wholesome and wonderful healthy relationship to explode in front of me. The relationship between Viktor and Yuuri is just so lovely, so mature, they both worked through issues, grew from them and accepted them even and I can’t I love it. (Special mention here to Yurio x Mila, as is another ship I love from this series and so underrepresented).

13. Jonerys - Jon Snow x Daenerys Targaryen (ASOIAF/GoT): Regardless of the stupidity committed in the series, I have shipped them since the books, because I can read in between the lines and there are too many parallels between them and their journeys, ones that at will some point collide and bring them together in a way that will be worth it, so better make it count George.

12. Rhaegar Targaryen x Lyanna Stark (ASOIAF/GoT): Yes, mea culpa, I love tis ship and no one can shame me for liking it and boy has people tried to do so. Were these two smart of escaping like that and not saying a thing? Nope, they were so not. Was Brandon smart going to Kings Landing, knowing there was a crazy king with a penchant of burning people and demanding his heir's head? Nope, that was probably the stupidest move of all. Do I want to believe they loved each other? Why not? Martin has a penchant for tragic love stories, I know this ship is problematical for some, but I still love it and if you see spot 10 here, well I have varied tastes.

11. Soriku - Riku x Sora (Kingdom Hearts series): Come on, this is a given. Prior to Kairi appearing, it was clear Sora was Riku’s world and Riku’s was Sora, they were attached to the hip, the rivalry for Kairi more felt like Riku being jealous of Kairi and wanting Sora’s attention back. Then we have KH2 where Sora spent the whole damn game being all ‘Riku, Riku!’ and Riku doing his damn best to help him from the shadows, ashamed to be seen. DDD was more Riku protecting him and Sora leaning on him, even KH3 had Sora wanting to find and reach Riku, and then Riku going once again to find him by the end, so I am sorry but if there was a love story written here it was between these two.

10. Hannigram - Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham (Hannibal): Quite honestly, from all the things I ship, they are probably what one will consider the most toxic one I guess, which fair considering one part of the ship is a charismatic yet cannibalistic serial killer. But there was something in the way this relationship was developed by Fuller and brilliantly brought out by Mads and Hughs that just hooked me, their soft moments, their violent ones, it just somehow worked for me. I guess this is also one of the few canon ships that I have, funny enough.

09. Rivetra - Levi Ackerman x Petra Ral (Shingeki no Kyojin): Who will have thought that a series about human eating titans was going to give me one of my most everlasting and also shortlived OTP’s. Years can pass by and I will still love this ship, my heart will still believe there was something more between them, something that was realized or something that wasn’t, I don’t know, but I will forever love it and even though years have passed since she died, I always enjoy the hints here and there that he still remembers her or hints where we are supposed to do so.

08. Squinoa - Squall Leonhart x Rinoa Heartilly (Final Fantasy VIII): People can say whatever the fuck they want ‘the love story was rushed’ ‘we hate Rinoa’ (fuck you btw) but it doesn’t change the fact that Squall fell in love with her and that Rinoa helped him to open up, to not take things for granted and Squall taught her to be even stronger and conquer her fears, they helped each other grow and it’s what matters in the end.

07. Feanor x Nerdanel (Tolkien): This is probably, from all the romantic relationships that Tolkien has gifted us, which I have loved the most and held my attention the longest. They have the happy times, the ones that were full of joy when they met and fell in love and had their children, then we have the tumultuous times when he became too obsessed with this craft, the separation when he left with their kids leaving her behind in her pain and then their possible reencounter when he leaves the Halls of Mandos and how they might deal with it.

06. ItaHina - Itachi Uchiha x Hinata Hyuuga (Naruto): Both the heads of two of the most important clans of their villages, both with heavy expectations upon their shoulders that nearly broke them, only one was talented from the start and the other had to learn, yet they are also similar. Both love their siblings to a fault, sacrificing so much for them and their happiness, both seem to hate conflict yet know is necessary and both are devoted and loyal to a fault, they would have suited each other wonderfully, in an AU probably they would have gotten engaged, who knows, but it would have been wonderful.

05. SessKik - Sesshoumaru x Kikyou (Inuyasha): A ship that could have been but that we didn’t have. This is a ship that has been with me for years and I don’t plan to let it go, they were the best players (in a sense) in that game against Naraku, also probably the strongest, both level headed and smart, not easily intimidated and calculating, together they would have been quite a formidable force and it’s a shame we didn’t get to see that.

04. Bethyl - Daryl Dixon x Beth Greene (The Walking Dead): Another wasted potential and gone so soon, not to mention forever salty at the waste. The way they were being developed promised so much, in the few time he was with her, well, she taught him to have faith and it’s something that apparently still shows from times to times (I am not sure as I stopped with this show) and imagine how it will have gone if they had more time. Just a waste.

03. Romanogers - Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanov (Marvel/MCU): I have been shipping them for years, like honestly, and when the MCU was showing me the seeds of potentiality I was happy, not even that stupidity with Bruce killed my hope, as they still had this steady relationship, he trusted her and she trusted him, something that she couldn’t say of many, they had each others back and took care of the other...but again another wasted potential right there.

02. Huddy - Gregory House x Lisa Cuddy (House MD): I spent years, kind of, season after season watching the delicious and lovely UST between these two characters, watching them snark and then help each other, watching the ‘won’t they will they’ dance, waiting for the moment when these two will finally collide and my lord was it glorious when they finally did, and I was eager to see where it went, as they both seemed to be in relatively good places, but no once again forbid the writers to stop House from being self-destructive and another ship I had waited years was ruined.

01. Terrence "Terry" Graham Grandchester x Candice "Candy" White Adley (Candy Candy): And this is still my most important ship of the decade, I was forever bitter they never ended together and that their authors decided to make them suffer so much, but then Final Story came and all clues were pointing that aha they did found the other again and ended together as they were supposed to be, and before anyone says shizz, I did manage to read the novel and I do believe all hints were there to let us all know the identity of her husband was Terry and I am so happy.

And there it is, all the ships of the decade for me lol. Next stop, I should maybe make a list of mythos ships I like lmao.

#(;;blogger talks)#(;;blogger words)#(;;shipping and more)

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eyesupmarksman · 5 years

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Injury Recovery - Will/Hannibal

Will's journey into consciousness as they recover from the fall.

Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter | Hannigram

Warning(s): Mild references to injuries

*Originally posted ages ago, but after the Great Tumblr Cull I found out that it had been deleted lol thanks Tumblr.

(Gif is not mine.)

The first time Will wakes up, it’s only for a couple of seconds.

Darkness engulfed him as they hit the water. He remembers resting against the warmth of Hannibal’s body while they stood there, marvelling at their kill together. He didn’t expect to wake up again.

But there was a boat. Anchored among the waves, it trashed with every lap of water that rolled towards the cliffs. Strong arms hauled him up out of the ocean and on to the deck. A splattering of water hit his face. Rain. A storm was starting to roll in. His eyelids flicker open. The first thing he really saw was Hannibal hunched over him. Looking down, he spotted a growing spot of dark blood in the middle of Hannibal’s shirt. Will blearily reached for the fabric with numb fingers.

He tried to mumble something. He can’t remember what he even wanted to say, but knew that the open wound on the side of his face was making it difficult.

Hannibal was speaking. Over the howling sounds of the ocean and the wind, Will couldn’t hear him. He tried looking at the man’s lips, to see if he could make out the words. He couldn’t.

Another pair of hands were suddenly on him. Will rolled his eyes back to see who else was on the boat. With the last ounce of energy he had left in his body, he met the gaze of Chiyoh. Darkness finally wrapped around him again, tugging him back into a void of black.

In his last moment awake, he sees Chiyoh frown down at him.

There’s a needle in his hand. Will stares down at it as he resurfaces into consciousness again. He hasn’t been out for a while, he notes. His skin is still damp and cold from the air outside.

Chiyoh kneels on the ground beside his bunk. She holds his hand firmly in hers, while carefully slides a cannula into a vein in the back of his hand. He feels the needle pinch his skin. He feels the chilly feeling running through his veins as morphine is pumped into him. His eyelids flicker closed as his muscles sigh, eased into looseness from the morphine.

She takes out the injection needle, leaving the cannula in. Reaching to the side, she snaps the cap off of a long slender tube and connects it to the cannula. Will watches her. His eyes are starting to strain again. It won’t be long until he’s pulled back under. He wants to stay awake. He wants to know about Hannibal.

He manages to move his fingers. It’s the barest flicker over a movement – a twitch, nothing more – but Chiyoh catches it.

She looks up at him, staring for a moment. She silently reaches out with her other hand, dragging down the blankets that are covering his entire body. He’s naked, he realises. He watches his own body violently shake against the cold. Chiyoh puts his hand on his chest, resting it there, and pulls the blankets back over him. She takes a moment to make sure he’s completely covered. The blankets are thick. Warm slowly starts to bloom in his bones, slowly wrapping around his body and making the shaking quieten down.

A breath leaves his nose as a sigh.

Chiyoh stands up, happy to leave Will sleep. When she starts to walk to the other side of the cabin, Will sees it. The familiar blackness starts to tug him down into sleep.

He sees Hannibal. And Hannibal sees him. He’s watching Will silently from the other side of the room. Slumped over himself, he has a hand pressed firmly against his side. With his chest exposed, Will can see it. It’s the last thing he sees before he’s tugged into sleep again: blood pulsing out between Hannibal’s fingers.

It’s bright when he wakes up.

He squints his eyes shut as he slowly comes back around. It takes him a couple of minutes to adjust. When he’s sure that his eyes are suited for the brightness of the room, he opens them again. He can hear gulls screeching and cawing up on the deck. He looks around the cabin. It’s sparsely furnished, with most of the couches being turned into bunks. He’s on one, with another near the stairs leading up on deck. He spots Chiyoh’s jacket sprawled across the seat, along with a rifle, some spare blankets and a pillow.

Will looks down at himself. Some of his blankets have slid off of him during the night. There are a couple of cuts on his chest: ones that have healed over, leaving dried bloody scabs in their place. His skin looks a sickly colour, but he notices that his body isn’t shaking anymore. There’s an IV line running up to a stationary rack. Two bags of clear fluid hanging from them. He’s attached to both. He recognises one of them as saline. The other is antibiotics.

The side of his face starts to throb. It’s not painful, but fuck is it annoying. Memories of the cliff flood back to him – slaying the dragon, becoming, the fall. The blood that washed their old lives away and the sea water that baptised them into their new ones.

Hannibal.

Will’s blood runs cold as his thoughts turn to the other man. The last time he saw Hannibal, there was blood. He remembers the blood spilling out between the other man’s fingers. He remembers the look of muted panic in Hannibal’s eyes – something he tried to hide when he saw Will looking at him. Will doesn’t know how long he’s been out, but it’s not enough time for Hannibal to die. Surely it’s not. He can’t die. Will’s panicked eyes flick through the cabin, searching for the other man. His breath is caught in his throat when he spots him. There’s another bunk in the cabin, slightly behind Will. He has to contort his neck and body awkwardly to see him.

Hannibal is lying on his back, covered up to his neck in blankets. Will sees two clear tubes running from underneath the blankets to another IV rack by the bunk.

But Hannibal is motionless. Will watches for a moment. He sees Hannibal’s chest rise slightly and falls back down. Will’s breath leaves him almost violently. Thank you, he says to no one in particular. Whether it’s God, one of His angels, or something else entirely, he’s not quite sure. But he thanks something for keeping Hannibal here. Will watches him for what seems to be a couple of minutes.

The sound of footsteps makes him look to the front of the cabin. Chiyoh steps down below deck, keeping the door open to keep an eye on the mast.

“How is he?” he rasps as she walks past. He clears his throat and tries to ask again. Chiyoh doesn’t even acknowledge him. Whether she’s heard him or not, he doesn’t know. After a couple of minutes, she looks at him from over her shoulder. Will clears his throat. “How is he?” he asks again.

The only answer he gets is cawing of seagulls outside.

He manages to stay awake for a couple of hours. Placated by the slow drip of morphine into his body, he stays on the good-side of lucid for that time where he’s awake. Chiyoh busies herself with tasks around the cabin. She packs away some blankets into cabinets and turns her attention to another saline bag that’s lying on the countertop of a cabinet. Silently, Chiyoh strides over to Will’s side of the cabin, grabbing on to the IV rack.

She wordlessly unhooks the almost empty bag and switches it to the full one.

“Sleep,” she orders him. The firm look she accompanies with the order almost forces his eyelids to droop closed.

Gentle voices greet Will as he resurfaces again. He keeps his eyes closed as the boat gently rocks with the night waves. The light in the cabin is on, softly shining against his eyelids. He gently buries his nose into his pillow and sighs, mimicking the sight of sleep.

“He asked for you.”

“Yes. I imagine he would have.”

There’s a pause.

“What did you tell him?”

“Nothing.”

“Cruel.”

“You’re awake now. You can tell him yourself.”

The length of the next pause between them is so long, Will thinks that either Hannibal has fallen back asleep, or Chiyoh has just given up on speaking to the other man. Then he hears her speak again.

“We’re making good time. Cuba is only a couple of days away. Given that the wind is good, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Will you be able for dry-land?”

There’s a grunt from Hannibal. “I should be healed adequately enough to move.” He hears Hannibal shuffle around slightly. “How are Will’s injuries?”

Hurting like a bitch, he answers internally.

Chiyoh answers instead. “There will be a scar, but he’ll live.”

There’s one last pregnant pause between them all. “You’re both very lucky to still be alive.”

“We have you as our charge, mano meilė.”

By the time they get to Cuba, Will’s able to sit on the edge of his bunk by himself. He keeps his hands tightly gripping his knees, afraid that dizziness will slam him back into unconsciousness. Chiyoh has spent the last few days weaning him off of morphine. He has already sweat through a couple of loose t-shirts as his body refuses to deal with the pain of a hole in the side of his face.

He saw the stitching. Inside his mouth is stitched up too. He’s spent days running his tongue along the stitch work inside. Chiyoh did it during that first night, when Will didn’t know what was real or fake. Where he didn’t know if they were really dead or alive.

He runs his fingers over the raised line of flash. It cuts a bit into his beard – the only way he’ll know where the scar is. He asked Chiyoh for a small mirror a couple of days ago, and honestly, he was expecting a mutilated mess of a scar. If anything, it’ll only be a slight light line running just underneath his cheekbone.

Hannibal watches him. They acknowledged each other a couple of days ago. No words were said between them. Nothing had to. Chiyoh had been checking on Hannibal’s gunshot wound when Hannibal rolled his head over to the side and locked eyes with Will. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lip as Will flushed, and turned around to sleep facing the wall.

Now, the other man sits on the edge of his own bunk, mirroring Will’s position. He’s bare-chested, with his entire abdomen wrapped tightly with white bandages. Small flecks of red still seep through the white fabric. But Chiyoh keeps assuring them both that Hannibal’s wound is healing well.

“Cuba?” Will asks, looking up from his knees to Hannibal.

Hannibal’s maroon eyes lock with Will’s. He nods firmly. “No extradition laws exist between Cuba and the United States,” he explains simply.

A smile creeps up to Will’s lips. Trust Hannibal Lecter to think of extradition laws and foreign relations on death’s door. But the thought passes him: how long has Hannibal planned this? Chiyoh had waited for them at the bottom of that cliff, boat’s engine turned on and supplies ready to treat their injuries.

Chiyoh steps down into the cabin. She looks between the two of them with a neutral expression. “We’re here.”

Will watches Chiyoh bring the last of the supplies into the house. Their home is a villa hidden in the hills of Baracoa; a small town on the eastern-most point of Cuba. It looks out on to the sea but has enough cover from forests and hills to keep them hidden for a while. The villa is big enough for the two of them: two-story, with whitewashed clean walls and tall lancet windows. The open-plan layout of the villa makes the space look larger than it actually is.

The sun is perched high in the sky. Wearing cotton pants and a loose shirt, Will rubs at the back of his neck. Sweat gathers at the tips of his growing hair, dripping down on to the neckline of his shirt.

Chiyoh and Hannibal talk quietly between themselves. Will frowns as he sees Hannibal reach out to the railing of the porch. He leans his bodyweight on to one side, his grip on the railing tightening. Something flashes across his face, but he schools his expression into neutrality.

Will watches them both. Chiyoh is leaving. He knows, in the back of his mind, that she won’t wander far. Hannibal is still injured and recovering. She was meant to leave after the train. But she was there at the bottom of the cliff. Chiyoh is always a phone call away. Will’s bones still ache from the fall. His cheek still throbs, but the pain is manageable now. He ignores it most days.

Hannibal reaches out with his free hand and brings it to Chiyoh’s cheek. He brushes a strand of hair out of her face. It’s a small movement. Will barley catches it. But Hannibal drops his hand back down to his side within a few seconds. Chiyoh inclines her head slightly, bowing, and then turning on her heels.

She walks down the front porch of the house, and starts striding towards him.

“There are vials of morphine left,” she tells him firmly. “They’re in the bathroom cabinet – the one over the sink. Only give it to him if he looks like he needs it.”

Will nods. “And any antibiotics?”

Chiyoh’s expression doesn’t change. “The infection is gone. He should be fine. If something does happen, my phone number is in the burner phones you both have.”

Hannibal watches them from the porch. Will meets his gaze and smiles faintly. “I’ll look after him, don’t worry about it.”

Chiyoh looks over her shoulder to Hannibal. “You’ll look after each other.”

While the days are blisteringly hot, the nights are cold. Without any clouds in the sky during the daytime, the bare skies make the air bitterly cold. Will closes the last of the lancet windows of the house. He draws the curtains shut. Their nearest neighbours are a fifteen-minute drive away, and at the bottom of the hill their villa is perched upon. Still, Will’s heart beats a bit slower knowing no prying eyes can spy on them.

The house is quiet. The rest of the day was spent moving the last of their supplies into storage areas. The kitchen was meticulously inspected by Hannibal as Will made sure they had enough medication stocked in the bathroom upstairs. He took that time to wander around the upstairs of the villa. It’s just as spacious as downstairs – a long, reaching hallway and two bedrooms sprouting from it, with bathrooms, a storage space, and a closet. Two bedrooms, he noted, separated on either end of a hallway.

Hannibal’s in the living room, sitting silently in an armchair in front of the fireplace. The only light in the room comes from the fire and a few sparse candles dotted throughout the room. The light from the fire softly highlights Hannibal’s features. The other man watches the flames in the fire.

Will walks over to a cabinet housing far too many bottles of hard liquor. Rifling through it, he finds an old bottle of whiskey. He pours an ample amount into a crystal tumbler.

“Sit with me, Will.”

The sound of Hannibal’s voice almost startles the bottle out of Will’s hands. He puts the bottle away and picks up his glass. “No thanks, I...I think I’ll head to bed.”

Hannibal looks over at him and regards him for a moment. “Indulge me.”

Will’s feet carry him to the vacant armchair at the other side of the fire, rather than the stairs that lead upstairs. Hannibal watches him. Will sighs heavily as he settles back into the chair. “This seems familiar,” he smiles faintly, gesturing to the vacant space between the two of them. Hannibal’s own smile is barely there. The glow of the fireplace highlights it though.

“You’re my patient no more, Will,” Hannibal says. There’s a sense of loss to those words, Will notes. He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he asks: “what am I now? To you, I mean.”

As soon as the words come out of his mouth, it’s too late to snap his jaw shut. He would flounder, try and back-peddle that what he said and what he meant are two completely different things. Instead, now, he brings his glass to his lips and takes a slow sip of whiskey. He moves the alcohol to one side of his mouth, avoiding the stitches on the other.

Hannibal is regarding him silently. “Honestly, I have no idea what you now are to me.”

Will takes another drink. The only sound between them is the crackling of the fire. Will watches the flames wrap around the logs, crawling up into the chimney. He feels Hannibal shuffle in the chair beside him. There’s a small grunt of pain, followed by a long deep sigh.

Will looks over. “Do you want morphine?”

Hannibal’s eyes are closed. His brow is furrowed. Eventually, his neutral expression returns. “No, no, I’m quite alright.”

Will isn’t convinced. “You were shot,” he says levelly, “and Chiyoh performed surgery on you on a boat with minimal supplies.”

“Do you suggest we go to a hospital?”

The question makes Will stop for a second. “No,” he replies simply.

The silence that falls between them isn’t awkward. He knows that Hannibal has retreated into his mind palace. The other man’s eyes are closed, and his face has a vacancy that signals him not fully being in this realm. Will drinks the rest of his drink in silence.

With warm whiskey washing through his veins, his fingers twitch. Reach out to him, his mind unhelpfully whispers to him. Fuck it. You fell off a cliff for him.

Before he has a chance to scold his own brain, his fingers have reached out through the space between them. His fingertips brush over the back of Hannibal’s hand. The skin there is soft and warm, Will notes. Everything in his body screams at him to move.

Hannibal’s eyes open slowly, an unreadable expression on his face as he looks down at Will’s fingers on his hand. Hannibal turns his hand, splaying his fingers out. Will catches a leg of the armchair with his feet, pulling it towards Hannibal’s. He lets his fingers fit into the gaps of Hannibal’s.

“Chiyoh said that we were going to look after each other,” Will mumbles, watching Hannibal’s fingers retract and curl around Will’s. The warmth of Hannibal’s skin lights his flesh on fire. Will can feel it spreading up his wrist and into his arm.

Hannibal’s mouth is pulled into a soft smile. “Yes, it would appear that way.”

ORIGINALLY POSTED ON MY AO3

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #hannibal x will #hannibal/will #hannibal lecter x will graham #hannibal lecter/will graham #murder husbands #hugh dancy #mads mikkelsen #yourqueenforayear #this had so much notes #so much recognition #and BAMB #it got got #thanks tumblr

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dailyspark · 5 years

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2k of “I’ve had a brain scan before and this is not my brain” au where Will figures it out, set during “Buffet Froid”, taking some lines at the start directly from the show, up until it diverges away. // posted as chapter 4 of my hannigram fic collection on ao3

Sitting across from Hannibal was familiar, it felt safe. If there ever was a place where he could be honest—so much more honest than ever, ever—it was here. Talking about Abigail was painful, but necessary. “Abigail ended Nicholas Boyle like a burst balloon. She took a life.”

“You’ve taken a life.”

There’s a bit of a cold look in Hannibal’s eyes at that and Will can’t help but respond in kind, “So have you.”

“Do you feel alive, Will?”

“I feel like I’m fading.”

“I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked through me, past me. Like I was a stranger.” Leaning against the ladder, hoping for stability he wasn’t feeling. Will could only look at Hannibal, approaching.

“You have to honestly confront your limitations with what you do and how it affects you.”

Close, so close, Will could feel breath catch in his throat. Hannibal had him between the ladder and the rest of the room. Making their universe, this conversation, everything. Trying to push him away, saying, “If by limitations you mean the difference between sanity and insanity... I don’t accept that.” A fleeting eye contact with Hannibal, and he had to look away, over his shoulder. Wanting to escape this conversation. Move past it. But, but there was something. Something important to it.

“What do you accept?” Hannibal, always prompting, always wanting his interpretation. Making Will admit to things. This is why he liked him so much, why he could be honest in this setting. While it made him want to escape the situation, he knew the conversations were much more useful, they made him confront things otherwise he would keep buried.

“I know what kind of crazy I am and this is not that kind of crazy.” Unwilling to see the doubt in Hannibal’s face he turned away, “This could be seizures. This could be a tumor.” Pushing away from the ladder, closer to Hannibal, continuing the desperate plea for it to be something medical, “A .. a blood clot.” Everything but the diagnosis of mental illness.

“I can recommend a neurologist.”

Getting through the MRI was a lot more nerve wracking that Will expected. Hallucinating pulling Beth LeBeau under her own bed. He really was done with today. Contaminating a crime scene, upsetting Jack and turning his concerned gaze on him had been a lot.

Being rude to his face wasn’t as nice either. He truly disliked disrupting this ‘stability’ as Jack called it. Teaching and trying to catch the killers—saving lives—no matter how it was bad for him, ultimately was good for him.

And then Dr. Sutcliffe had to go and lie to him.

“We didn’t find anything abnormal. No vascular malformations, no tumors. No swelling or bleeding. No evidence of stroke. Nothing wrong with you neurologically.”

Will frowned at the scans, looking them over. No. They were wrong. He stepped closer, looking at the pictures of the brain, listening to the doctor continue talking.

“Usually when I tell a patient that, they’re happy to hear it.”

Something was very wrong. Will had had a brain scan before, in New Orleans, and he remembered it. Too well in fact, it had featured in his nightmares for long enough, that he could tell with a certainty that the brainscan Dr. Sutcliffe was showing him wasn’t his.

He needed time to think, to consider things. Will didn’t need to play up being upset, all he had to do was muddle through, “So .. what I’m experiencing is psychological?”

The realization hit him not ten steps later, outside Dr. Sutcliffe’s office.

The reason for him lying, the reason for someone else’s brain scans, the two of them talking and talking while Will was in the MRI machine, the curiosity of the human mind under duress. It seemed so unlikely, but at the same time so fitting.

Will gulped, almost stumbling, moving the two steps required until the closest bathroom and got inside one of the stalls, gasping. Trying to have breath in his lungs.

The one person who knew so much, a doctor none-the-less, and skipping over all the medically valid options, repeating that all of this, all of it was mental illness. The betrayal hurt.

Hannibal was the first person Will had thought of calling as soon as he realized that Dr. Sutcliffe lied, he was the first and the last person Will would have trusted with this. The person who held all the power in this situation.

He was here, somewhere in the building, looking for Will, no doubt.

Almost hyperventilating, Will slid to the ground, hugging his knees. The chill from the floor tiles eventually brought him back. It chilled his thoughts as well. It also let him feel the subtle tells of a fever. So this was definitely medical. And something to be deal with now, instead of later.

He disliked leaving the case, but it had to be done. He hoped that evidence turned over enough to help apprehend the killer before he could be back at work.

And Hannibal. Well, Will would think what to do with him later. This betrayal was unnecessary, but it intrigued him as well. Why would he want to manipulate the situation such.

Hannibal had tried to reassure him, but Will brushed him off, almost running away from the medical center, ready to get as far as he could.

He drove home.

While the mystery of Beth LeBeau’s murder would have lured him back to the crime scene, he put his survival first.

Feeding the dogs, he called the closest neighbours he had and arranged for someone to come feed them and walk them until he got back. He could have asked Alana for it, but she was too close to both the FBI and Hannibal.

Better that no one knew where he was going until he had some answers.

Richmond was in the opposite direction of Baltimore. He was running away from Hannibal, wanting the distance between them to be more than real.

Checking himself into a hospital turned out to be easier than he expected—having a seizure in the emergency room instead of I-95 let him admitted and sent for another brain scan. Having non-FBI affiliated health insurance also didn’t notify anyone who might be looking for him. Realistically though, no one would, not until sometime tomorrow when he would fail to show up for a meeting with Jack at Quantico.

Until then all he had to do was wait for a doctor to say what exactly was wrong with him. A persistent thought kept saying that they would not find anything, and he had overreacted. That Hannibal would not betray him, that all of this was really stress of returning to field work.

Staring at the ceiling, trying to filter out rambles from his roommate from the other side to the privacy curtain, Will tried to unravel why would Hannibal and Dr. Sutcliffe pull something like this. Because on his own he wouldn’t have—something pushed him, and that something was most likely Hannibal. He had the presence for it. Manipulation.

Will remembered asking Hannibal if he was trying to alienate him from Jack. It had followed his first sleepwalking episode.

Encephalitis.

The full diagnosis has a longer name, but Will had stopped listening. He was relieved, feeling tears in his eyes. Something was wrong with him, and not mentally. Hearing the doctor list the corresponding symptoms he has to flinch at each and every one.

Fits, if fucking fits. Despair has a particular taste in the air. He has a wish to grab the nearest phone, dial Hannibal’s number and scream ‘liar’ towards him, never listening to explanations. He curbs the wish, nodding towards the doctor and the proposed treatment.

It’s Alana that find him first.

He’s on a second dose of a medical cocktail, floating between consciousness and darkness. The stag keeps walking past his room, huffing a cold breath, throwing snow to the ground. Will has to remind himself that Hannibal wouldn’t actually do anything to him. That he wasn’t that kind of person.

But why would he lie? Why would he betray Will so? Why was Will suddenly afraid of him?

A smile towards Alana when he felt more awake. A return smile made him blink again and realize that it was actually Alana there, and not another hallucination. “Hi.” Extending a hand, he pulled the glass of ice chips closer to him.

“Hi.” She seemed stuck someplace between confused and upset and relieved, Will couldn’t pinpoint it. It was probably all three at the same time. He could imagine the reason for confusion easily, but at the moment the upset and the relief were harder.

“I’m gonna be alright.” He tried to reassure her in return.

“Yes. Why are you here, Will?” A frown, and the confusion overwhelmed all other emotions.

“Umm, because I’m sick. Alana ..” He lost the end of the sentence, unsure what he wanted to say. Keeping quiet and letting Alana talk seemed more important at the moment.

“No, I mean why are you here, in a hospital in Richmond? I—I tried calling Hannibal, but he hadn’t heard from you either, not since your session. I had to get Jack to search area hospitals until we found you.”

Will blinked. Another lie. The last time he had seen Hannibal was after Dr. Sutcliffe’s false diagnosis. Was he right to fear for his life?

“Did .. does Hannibal know I’m here?” Will swallowed a few more ice chips, avoiding Alana’s gaze.

“I called him as soon as we knew. What is going on, Will?”

With a sigh, he turned back towards Alana. Finding a soft smile from the depths of his feelings, Will shook his head, “Nothing. I just .. needed to get away from everything. And then—I had a seizure in the er. The docs sent me for a brain scan. After that, well, they wouldn’t just let me go.” Shrugging, he felt the IV lines move, reminding him about their existence. Them and all the drugs were being pumped into him, to battle everything the encephalitis had already done to him.

A week in the hospital, and Hannibal hadn’t visited once. Alana had insisted of transferring him to a hospital in Baltimore, but both Will and doctors objected.

It was on a drive home that Will had to stop at a rest stop, to vomit into the bushes.

The Copycat killer, the missing organs. Linking it up with the Chesapeake Ripper had seemed easy after that. Recalling that first breakfast with Hannibal, the protein scramble, and Will had to retch once more.

Stumbling back to the car, he slumped against it, pulling a water bottle from the back seat. Returning home mean a return to work, to his dogs. It also mean a return to Hannibal, to the Ripper.

He knew logically that there was no evidence. None. Miriam Lass had been looking into private medical records of Ripper’s known victims, and he was more than sure, that Hannibal had already corrected whatever it was the she uncovered.

Getting Hannibal to confess would be useless. If he was this careful, this connected to the current investigations, he wouldn’t let it slip, no way. Confronting him would no doubt end in Will’s death. Tobias Budge had proven that.

Back on the road, Will tried to understand his motivations. Why lie about Will to Alana? Why the deceit with the brain scans? Why, why, why? What was his agenda, his purpose in manipulating Will?

Whatever it was, Hannibal seemed to be pulling away from him. Will taking control made him pull away.

He recalled a conversation, one session before their last, about how they were both killed. How much had Hannibal talked about it. That, and alienation from Jack, getting immersed in the minds of the killers, Hannibal almost prodding him closer and closer to it all.

Was Hannibal trying to groom a companion? An opponent? Or was he simply playing with food? Will was determined to find it out. Having the knowledge gave him advantage.

He could show Hannibal, that he wasn’t the only one good at manipulation. At playing with food.

Will had been home less than three hours when Jack called him. Abel Gideon, the supposed Chesapeake Ripper had broken out of custody.

Well, this was bound to be interesting.

#hannigram #hannibal #hannigram fic #will graham #hannibal lecter #fanfiction #my fic #i've been thinking about this for so long #so i'm glad it got 2k of words instead of a 500 word ficlet #which wouldn't be bad #but i love how long it got #today has been good for writing #if i can i'll do a follow-up to it #the eventual confrontation

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bakasara · 6 years

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Hannibal Rewatch musings / 2x08 through 2x13

OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK. I JUST REMEMBERED. THEY'RE IN FUCKING LOVE WITH EACH OTHER! oooooooooHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUU

❀ “Is your social worker in that horse?” 🔝🔝

❀

cheers i’ll drink to that bro

❀ first time of two they do the ‘Heads and Arms in a Heart’ position, it’s the Hannigram Signature Pose now I don’t make the rules

❀ Hannibal was ready to give Will back Abigail because Will wished for her to be back and because Hannibal was honestly pained that she wasn't...

Obviously Hannibal is always calculating, so bringing Abigail back would just so have happened to tie Will further to Hannibal, but the end goal of tying Will further to Hannibal is... that Will is tied further to Hannibal. In Hannibal's fucked up view of the world, that was a genuine gift done out of love and if Will would be grateful for it then all just the better

❀ Will felt more dangerous not killing Mason of his own volition than if he had killed him without realizing Hannibal had tried to manipulate him and the surrounding situation into it. He's deadly when he's lucid, including knowing that he's being influenced, because then he fully becomes the wild variable that even Hannibal - and even Will himself - can't predict or control AND whatever he does tends to have a scary punctuality and efficacy to it, no matter that sometimes he doesn’t know what it is he’s trying to accomplish until he’s doing it. (Also, Hannibal ostensibly likes that about his husband, no matter that it can 'inconvenience' him up to making him suffer a great deal).

❀ i know i know, not the husbando yet. let me say husband, i’m trying so hard to stay in the moment but it’s difficult to pretend not to know everything that follows. let me live people it’s been 3 years and that blood wedding's a done deal in my mind by now. i’m at their fucked up, perpetually conflicted murder version of a full domesticity stage, they’re in cuba, i don’t know, it’s all your fault for asking about flip flops with socks or without. i live in a state of multiple coexisting WoC Clarice Starling scenarios and infinite Spaghetti Zeller being eaten Lady and the Tramp style, i

❀ Will letting Hannibal snap Mason's neck in front of him, not knowing if Hannibal's going to kill Mason: is this arresting Hannibal?

❀ lol every time Mason is in Hannibal's office defiling the space in some way I suffer. But not as much as Hannibal omg

still one of his best faces he is SCREAMING HE FUCKING!!! HATES!!! MASON!!! 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

❀ MY FAVORITE MURDER KITTEN!!! MARGOT!! ❤️❤️❤️

❀ Hannibal: so hmmm it's like I'm Achilles and you're Patroclus and

me:

❀ Hannibal straight up saying if Will drops the Jack thing now, he's willing to forgive him and move on. Straight up telling him he doesn't need a sacrifice which is as good as saying he will give Will one if he forces his hand, though. Just.

❀ Only Bryan Fuller can make me cry while the main character guts the other main character because I just realized they're actually in love with each other. It's just, when Will turns around and they're suddenly so close, the way Will looks at Hannibal with this pure openness... all pretenses have fallen and in that moment for the first time he's naked, as it were, and that is how he looks at Hannibal.

And y'know, before that, I suspected. That’s my general stance, even now in the rewatch, if I do the mental experiment of just looking at the ‘evidence’ like I would if I didn’t know what’s next. I suspect. Looots of hearts and 'love' and 'courtship' and soulful gazing and getting compared to mythological figures long debated to have been romantic, fittingly because of ancient subtext made of conventions everyone at the time recognized as obvious.

But in that moment I see Will looking at Hannibal like that and I always invariably go, oh fuck. Oh fuck, Will's in it deep for real. And then Hannibal looks at Will, and touches him so reverently, and I know it's the same for him.

❀ The way Will says, "You were supposed to leave". That's it, just. Whispering it, pained, desperate. That kills the woman.

❀ "I gave you a rare gift, but you didn't want it."

"Didn't I?"

❀ No seriously, I'd... forgotten that when I'm watching Hannibal I'm watching a show where the two male mains are in love? As in officially, actually what the show is about? Where their relationship is canonically romantic in nature, as a storyline that is the main storyline of the series? I knew very well, but I'd forgotten? And then I watched Mizumono and remembered it's reality? I didn't conjure it up, it's a show out there that exists, and that's the plot.

❀ and then that useless disaster cannibal has the gall to kill me with a single tear?!?!

❀ HANNIBAL’S CRYING! WILL’S CRYING! I’M CRYING! WE’RE ALL CRYING!

#hannibal #hannibal meta #ever increasing levels of screaming;

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keiiro · 6 years

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Explaining myself just for myself bc I felt like I needed to... o)--( No one will read this but I have no one to rant to abt this td;lr so.

From S1, I’ve said multiple times that I’m in Voltron mostly for Sheith, that VLD isn’t usually the type of show I like to watch. I simply have a preference for dark and complicated dramas/stories. I don’t like cartoons much, actually ^^;; I’m sorry, but a show really has to grab me with its writing or characters for me to be invested in it even a little without me having a ship there. (I uh, hyperfocus on romance. . v.;; I don’t ignore plot tho I swear.. I mean if it’s objectively well written (side-eyes naruto and 500 other series)) Like Steins;Gate. FMA. Skip Beat. Inception. etc. In my case, my criticisms about the show, i.e. the pacing, were always there since S1. I don’t think I like... betrayed LM or JDS by being hurt and having such a negative outlook on this. I think my comments were fair.

Before this.

I was in the Sherlock fandom, knee-deep in TJLC (The Johnlock Conspiracy, yes, humilating, I know, but the sad thing is the real S4 that was written was so bad that we thought it unthinkable that it would be... like that trashfire). I remember near the end of an episode of S4, before the other eps aired, I really liked this one popular blogger. Pearl something. She was really good at making me feel more relieved in the bigger plan. Even though already with episode 1, I was already incredibly disappointed in the writing of S4 and regretted every time I defended S3. The sister’s storyline. Was so. Bad. There were so many plot holes. I don’t even. Pearl--She sent the message to have faith. And as a result I crashed incredibly hard, 40x worse than Shiro’s retirement. Her account ended up hacked and she went MIA. I was there through Apple Tree Yard, being sent the message that apparently two middle aged het ppl hooking up within 15 minutes of meeting and having 5 mins of bad sex that she made sound like he rocked her world but it was just so goddamn sad--and apparently sexual assault--is more valid than a canonized mlm couple. Though really, even if they did, since S3 would still be an incredible disappointment. (the cases in the wedding ep were so, so dumb) Just because even though I knew there wouldn’t be a fourth episode, I was in so much shock I just. ...I was there for the probably-troll fansite for “the lost episode” with friggin Sherlock scripts hidden in the coding. The horror stories go on.

Before that, I was in the Naruto fandom, as a hardass SasuNaru fan. Everyone getting hetmarried at the end was a real shoot in the fucking face, this coming from someone who also likes NaruHina. I. My faith in authors. I just. Yeah, that kerplunked.

I decided to give the benefit of the doubt to Isayama Hajime (Attack on Titan). I used to defend him, pointing out and believing his Imperialistic comments were mistranslated or blown out of proportion. :) Then he said the Chinese and Koreans lives were bettered because of Japanese takeover. Which I ignored because I love Eruri. I don’t care for the writing of AOT/SNK, never really had. I tried to have faith in him. And then apparently he’s now using Jewish WW2 imagery in the series in a way that’s. ........ Basically, it’s been debated whether this is anti-semitic. Idk. I’m not touching that trashfire outside of Levi remembering Erwin frames anymore. So yeah, faith in yams was DIRT. Oh, and then Erwin died. Which hurt much, much worse than this with Shiro, and would’ve hurt more even had Shiro died.

I believed in Bryan Fuller, a lot. He still supports Hannigram fanzines and literally wears shirts of them making out. He told a beautiful, dark mlm romance and I. It didn’t stop him from calling their relationship a “bromance”. He gave no explanation and I was very. Every time it felt a little no-homo’d, I bit the inside of my cheek.

I was in the Supernatural fandom, and I loved Destiel terribly so and I’m not. even. going to start.

Death Note, Piano no Mori, Sam Esmail re: Mr. Robot, goddamn Yana Toboso, Magi, X-Men, many others.

I mainly stan a pairing in the D.Gray-man fandom, and I can’t. Over many years, the mangaka has said things/put things in in a certain way that I decided to overlook. Stereotypical transphobic “okama” inserts. The novel she approved where it was said a guy’s first kiss didn’t count because it was with a guy. Um. Frankly, I didn’t like the Alma arc...... at all. I found that it was mostly tell and not show w/ Kanda and past!Alma’s romance.... and I’m just like........ he was white in his past life his was completely different... and they were lovers in their past lives but their portrayal in their present lives are only as friends? Um. ok I’m rambling and there’s a lot of stuff too but. My point is, I don’t expect anything of her anymore. I don’t hate her, I just don’t respect her as much anymore. I don’t have faith in her anymore to write the absolute best, and she proves me right in recent chapters quite a bit. I’m still quite mixed-feelings there. (Also, I know a lot of people made fun of kls for being so emotionally dependent on kl, but. I’ve been stanning Yullen since 2006. Over ten years. It is literally my life. It’s the main reason if not the only that I’m still alive. The other is my merch. Once I tomb my merch, sayounara Earth.)

I don’t expect authors to be perfect but. I think it’s reasonable for me to not be able to have faith here. Most of the times I held onto faith, it was crushed. I already had faith in that they’d return everyone to their original lions, because honestly I wanted them at each other’s side while saving the world together, in a way that I found most beautiful. I mean, the only thing that could beat that tbh is Shiro getting his own mecha, which I find unlikely. Oriande arc was done already and the white lion accepted Allura and the comic version was just a Robeast, so I found it very unlikely that he would pilot white.

I don’t really know if this is all so childish. It’s hard to care about a lot of things when you, well, deal with dark thoughts every day, and I’m such a bad adult that before worrying over worldy issues, I can’t. even help myself. I don’t eat most days. The entire past weeks I’ve felt like passing out. Vomited on monday from nausea. major depressive disorder. been to two psych wards, the first time for a month. chronic headaches, chronic back pain... being 24 without a degree because I still haven’t finished studying the language I even need to get into the school I want mmmmmm I’m pretty worthless, man. Shipping’s my best distraction. Yes, I know it’s not healthy. But it’s either that or me being dead so.

Anyway. I’m just trying to say that I think it’s fair for me to be bitter like this. I personally think I didn’t take it very far, but. I think it’s fair that I/we’re upset.

#just throws this into the void #I don't wanna bother more ppl today #than I have already #personal #tw: depression #I had... a really rough day today #news of Shiro was icing on the fucking cake

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