Hannibal Writers Room

Did anyone else read the scene breakdown for the early version of “Contorno” and go AACK

Evidently this version was from before they turned Murasaki into Chiyoh: that’s who “M” appears to be. 

Icarus? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that fanfic. 

In this version, Hannibal gets to see the firefly man Valentine. I personally like the version where he never does because of what it does with the concepts of time and the literal quality of Will moving through Hannibal’s mind palace

But “PLANS TO EAT W.G. / BEDELIA EXCITED AT PROSPECT”

HELLO

I guess that answers any lingering doubt anyone may have over whether Bedelia was trying to get Hannibal to do that, versus just providing therapy/making observations. 

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anonymous asked:

It's really interesting to think of Hannibal as someone Will still sees as keeping him safe, which I think on some level is true. Especially juxtaposing will's inherent dislike of danger and desire for control with his desire for Hannibal's danger and loss of control to Hannibal. I find it hard to read someone who is as drawn to Hannibal as Will is as not having a degree of desire for pain, turning himself into Hannibal's knife etc, especially when it compromises his primary motivation-safety.

Anonymous said: I think it could be read as an extension of the performative submission - controlled (dubiously consensual throughout the series) danger.

[spinning off from earlier]

I was going to try to comb out some thoughts about Will & Hannibal both, each with their dark complicated shifting between wanting to hurt and be hurt by the other, but why bother when there is already THIS:

“For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. … That is, we slide down that razor’s edge of ambivalence. The story of torment itself is a very beautiful one. Because loving is wanting and being able to eat up and yet to stop at the boundary. And there, at the tiniest beat between springing and stopping, in rushes fear. The spring is already in mid-air. The heart stops. The heart takes off again. Everything in love is oriented toward this absorption. At the same time real love is a don’t-touch, yet still an almost-touching. Tact itself: a phantom touching. Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up. Fear of eating, fear of the edible, fear on the part of the one of them who feels loved, desired, who wants to be loved, desired, who desires to be desired, who knows that there is no greater proof of love than the other’s appetite, who is dying to be eaten up yet scared to death by the idea of being eaten up, who says or doesn’t say, but who signifies: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me. Sign my death with your teeth.”

-  Hélène Cixous, from “Love of the Wolf”