If I do close my eyes what is it that I picture years from now? Like Leon said, doesn’t one need to understand that before they’re ready to fight for their existence? How would my future fairytale unfold? Will I finally connect with those I deeply care for? Will I reunite with old friends long gone? See the ones I love find true happiness? Maybe the future includes people I’d never dream of getting close to. Even make amends with those I have unfairly wronged. A future that’s not so lonely. A future filled with friends and family. You’d even be there. A world I’ve always wanted. And you know what? I would like very much to fight for it.
So i was browsing through pictures of kitchen tools when i noticed that some of these pastry tools were rather…suggestive. I keep imagining @hannibalssketchbook ‘s Hanni and Will pastry getting kinky in the kitchen.
Il Confessionale | aka the Primavera alternate ending absolutely no one asked for.
Will’s shoes clicked against the mosaic stone floor, footfalls shooting echoes past towering columns and off the frescoed walls. Shadows like smoke dripped from darkened corners and danced beneath his feet. The chapel, still and empty, brimmed and spilled with the ghosts of memories, their presence real enough to choke.
He could still smell Abigail’s blood in the air, sweet and dark, and feel the fog of it warm on his fingers.
Past the rows of empty pews, Will slipped into the middle compartment of the confessional, its door falling shut like a coffin. He sat there for endless moments in silence, eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be dead.
The creak of the door on the other side pulled him from his trance. Will slid the screen open blind, not needing to glance through the lattice to know the penitent he would find.
“Bless me father, for I have sinned,” Hannibal’s voice dripped like honey through the partition. “I don’t believe I’ve spoken those words before.”
Will kept his eyes trained forward, on the smooth woodgrain of the door. “I don’t believe you believe in the concept of sinner nor sin.”
“You know me well,” Hannibal drawled. His voice felt too small for their circumstance, too soft for their plight.
“Perhaps not well enough.”
In the corner of Will’s eye, Hannibal’s blurry form began to shift. “Here we sit, in the foyer of my mind. You knew exactly where to find me.”
Will sighed deep. “You knew exactly where I would come to find you.”
“What will you do, now that your mission is complete?”
Will stared down at his hands. He clasped them tightly together, his fingers cold as ice. “I’ve been curious about that myself.”
Shadows moved across the screen, and Will finally dared a look. He was met with the sight of Hannibal’s palm pressed against the lattice, reverent. Their eyes met in the empty spaces. Will’s stomach lurched and dropped down to his feet.
“I forgive you,” Will said, though it was barely more than a whisper.
His hand met Hannibal’s against the partition, warm skin trembling and quivering between the cracks. The contact was so momentary, so fleeting, Will wondered if it had happened at all after Hannibal stole his touch away.
Will turned his eyes back to the door and slid the screen shut beside him, blackness swallowing Hannibal’s presence whole. All movement stilled, perhaps even his breathing, the only sound in the whole world the slow whine of the confessional door.
Will sat in his confessional tomb long after Hannibal had gone, fielding whispers of the dead, carefully balancing his own forgiveness.
“One last project I’d like to discuss is Hannibal, which was so fantastic but got cancelled. Have there been any developments on season four?
It ended where it ended. It’s one of those rare shows where you can
pick it up whenever you want, in years from now, because the story
itself jumps about. Whether or not it happens, we don’t know. It’s all
in the hands of Brian Fuller. We simply cannot do it without him. He’s
the mastermind and the genius behind the show. I don’t think anyone
could do it without him. If he can persuade a TV channel to do it, I
think he can persuade the whole gang to come back.
There’s such a feverish fanbase behind it, I’m guessing people are hoping Netflix or Amazon will pick it up.
Normally, when you’ve worked on something for three years, you don’t
want to come back, but I must say, there wasn’t a single boring day on
that show. It was going places we could not imagine.
Well, I certainly hope it comes back at some stage.
Ballerina undies: the custom-made panties worn under the Slavegirl costume (top, middle) and the Degas tutu (bottom.
The Slavegirl panties are usually emerald green. But there’s also examples of red versions, and of red versions with a green edge. Today most slavegirl costumes have the belt and crotch/butt tiara overlap the panties, so they can’t be seen under the costume. But in elder, shorter versions they’re visible.
The Degas panties are white and with frills. Some have tulle frills, other have lace decorations. Both versions blend well with the tutu.