hannibal sees what he could be

iablmeanie  asked:

Telepathy soulmates???? That would be so messed up with Hannibal!!

He’s always known there was something wrong with him. Well, he wouldn’t call it wrong himself, he’s just fine, but other people - “normal” people (whatever normal even means) would shudder at the images that live inside his brain. So he learned at a very young age - a too-young age - to hide the darkness inside him.

(He hoped against hope he would never find his soulmate, but if he did he would be prepared).

He taught himself how to project pleasant thoughts - how to squirrel away the nasty ones, the impulses to cut and destroy - how to smile on the outside and fool the world. And he believed that if or when the day came, he could fool his soulmate as well.

But, he thought, how likely would it even be that a monster like him could find a soulmate? Was he even capable of love himself?

Then the day came, a seemingly ordinary day, when he found himself in a harshly lit office with Jack Crawford in front of him, a man he’d just met beside him, and four words struck in his head clear as a bell.

He is so beautiful.

And Will Graham’s entire world changed.


Don’t let him hear you.

Hannibal starts at the words that slip into his mind unvoiced. He looks at Mr. Will Graham - this heavenly, angry creature with eyes cut from crystal - and thinks It can’t be.

And Mr. Graham just raises an irritated eyebrow at him and thinks Apparently it can.

Hannibal is not prepared. For once in his meticulous life, he is completely unmoored. He hadn’t allowed for this eventuality. Soulmates weren’t for him, he’d decided that years ago. Fate, apparently, had decided other things.

He needs to get away before he loses himself in Will’s mind entirely. He can already feel the sticky web of it pulling him in and - oh - oh, what a beautiful, deadly boy.

“My card,” Hannibal hands it to Will by way of introduction, and leaves the room. Jack sputters irately after him and he hears Will yell, “you got me a fucking shrink?!”


Will makes an appointment the next day.

Then he cancels it.

He makes another appointment for the following week.

He cancels that one as well.

He makes a third appointment, but this time Dr. Lecter’s secretary transfers him directly to her employer.

“Hello, Will.”

“I - hello, I was calling to make–”

“I should inform you that I have a cancellation fee.”

“I’m not going to cancel.”

“You cancelled the last two.”

“I had… emergencies.”

“It’s fortunate I’m not there to tell you you’re lying.”

“I think you just told me I’m lying.”

“Hm. I think I did. When would you like to see me?”

“I don’t want to see you.”

“That, at least, is truthful.”

Will smiles at the other end of the line. Why is he smiling. Why the fuck is he smiling?

“Tomorrow at 7pm,” Hannibal says, “do not be late.”

“I won’t,” Will replies, and means it.


They spend the first fifteen minutes of Will’s appointment thinking aggressively about the weather in complete silence.

Finally, Hannibal clears his throat.

“This won’t do.”

Will shifts in his chair and rubs at the three-day-old stubble on his face.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Technically you don’t have to say anything.”

Will laughs without mirth. “Yeah, and that’s not fucking terrifying or anything.”

“Why does it scare you?”

“Oh, God.” Will bangs the back of his head against the armchair. “Why did my soulmate have to be a psychiatrist?”

Hannibal’s smile curls from his lips to his eyes. “You believe I’m your soulmate, Will?”

Will arches an eyebrow.

Can you hear me now?

Hannibal nods.

“Then it’s not a question of belief,” Will says. He gestures between the two of them. “Proof is in the pudding.”

“You’re doing an admirable job of keeping me out, I must say.”

“As are you. All I can glean from whatever’s up there is that you have a lot of favourite wines and you own a harpsichord.”

“Guilty as charged,” Hannibal replies. “And you like dogs.” He squints at Will. “All… seven of them?”

Will snorts and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You could have figured that out from the dog hair I’m covered in.”


“Listen,” Will says. He leans forward in his chair and steeples his hands together. “The way I see it, neither of us have to do anything about this. I don’t even know if you’re gay, let alone interested, and besides that–”


“Yes, what? You’re gay or interested?”

Hannibal tilts his head, drinks Will in with his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Well,” Will stutters, “I mean - well, I’m not gay–”

Yes, I am.

“Yes, you are.”

“Goddamnit.” Will slaps his hands on his thighs. “I don’t want to do this. There’s too much going on up here.” He jabs a finger toward his temple and twirls it in a circle. “I don’t need anyone caught up in it, it’s hard enough to manage on my own.”

“What if I want to be caught?”

“Excuse me?”

Hannibal stands and crosses the few feet to Will’s chair, then kneels before him.

“I know you’re hiding something that you think is terrible. That much I can hear.”

Will’s eyes meet his and his fear is palpable. “You have no idea.”

I think I do.

“Stop doing that.”

Doing what?

Tears fill Will’s eyes. “Speaking to me.”

Hannibal’s hands come to rest on Will’s knees and he leans further forward, taking up all the space that he can.

“I have a suggestion, Will Graham. Open yourself to me, and I will do the same. If neither of us like what we see, we agree to part and never speak of it again.”

Will shakes his head. “I already know you won’t like–”

Hannibal reaches up and places a finger over Will’s lips.

“Yes or no, Will?”

Will looks at Hannibal, looks as deep and hard as he can into those dark, alert eyes. Something swims just out of sight below the depths and Will can feel it wriggling, dangerous. Whatever it is, it has teeth. He inhales sharply.

Maybe monsters do have soulmates, after all.

“Well?” Hannibal says. “Yes or no?”

Will closes his eyes.


Omg I am exhausted - this con stuff is really intense. Can’t really do detailed updates while I’m here, there’s so much to take in and enormous amounts of worrying about where you need to be next to take up your time.

But a couple of things for those who missed it:

1. Bryan said “Hugh is my rock” and mentioned how they worked out the final TWOTL scene together. He can’t imagine Hannibal without Hugh/Will. The issue about rights/studios is still pertinent but something to be worked out.

2. Some of the nuance of Hugh’s comments about platonic love may have been overlooked - he’s a fairly subtle communicator. He described their relationship as one of obsession and in terms of finding the one person who can make sense of life for Will, and went on to say their relationship is a stand in for all kinds of love. He also later clarified that Will would never have thought of Hannibal’s interest in him as ‘love’, until Bedelia affirms that’s the case, because he does not associate love with Hannibal or think Hannibal is capable of it [totes your fault, Hanners] because - I paraphrase - Hannibal’s a giant bag of dicks. Like most people, he has placed the idea of love on pedestal - he’s not considered it could be ‘dirty and awful’. And I also took his comments to mean that Will and Hannibal’s interest in each other is not primarily sexual, nor is that on Will’s radar at all. But that does not mean it must exclude sexual elements in the future - he was not, in that sense, denying Hannigram. Finally, after seeing him speak on his own today, it’s clear he doesn’t want to start doing Bryan’s job for him in such a public arena, and start giving us what he thinks might happen - he’s very diplomatic and professional. When Bryan was able to join him on stage, that was a different thing.

Primavera feelings

I was asked a one-shot related to the scene at the Cappella in which Will says “Hannibal, I forgive you.”

I’ve already written it, but in the meantime I rewatched the episode and I couldn’t help to make this post. Because of the Hannigram feelings all over these scenes.

Hannibal listens to Will the all time, while Will is there talking with Pazzi, rewatching Hannibal’s design of the heart and hallucinating about that and Abigail.

And this is what Hannibal hears.

Will uses the word valentine, Hannibal hears that. 

And here a long moment of silence. Hannibal doesn’t hear Abigail’s answer, but he hears silence. And silence from Will means a lot more than words. 

Even without Abigail’s part of the dialogue, it’s pretty clear what Will is thinking.

And when he talks to Pazzi (I don’t know if Hannibal can listen because he is already dowstairs, but let’s say he hears in some way) Hannibal listens to Will saying first

When Pazzi didn’t ask him about Hannibal. Will always answers following his thoughts and his thoughts are one-topic only. And he answers like he and Hannibal are the same thing.

Are you praying signor Graham?

No, Hannibal doesn’t pray, why should I?

And then

Those are all things said before Will knew that Hannibal is there. And Will is not talking to Jack, a person who can understand and maybe justify in some way this kind of behaviour. He is talking with a stranger who can just think Will is Hannibal’s friend. Pretty much what Pazzi figures out.

And then Pazzi goes away with a face that leaves no doubts about what he thinks of Hannibal and Will’s relationship. And Will does absolutely nothing to make him think differently. 

What I’m thinking is that, considering Hannibal’s feelings, all those words must have been pure hope. Yes, Will is manipulative as much as Hannibal, so he could fake that, but Hannibal goes home and when Bedelia asks if it was nice to see Will, he answers “It was nice, among other things.”

The other things being the surprising amount of Will's revelations. I don’t think Hannibal could anticipate that after what happened in Mizumono and that’s the reason behind this expression

Sorry for the long post, but I fall in love every single time.

WTNV - Who should you fight?[Long version]

Cecil: Insult Carlos and you’re blacklisted forever. Will most likely say mean things about you over the radio and make sure everyone hates you. May or may not imply you’re doing illegal things in hopes you’ll get re-educated.

Carlos: WHY??? He’s so pure??? Do you just like hate science and want to see a cute man cry?? Monster.

Old woman Josie: Erika Squad will defend her. They will beat your ass and not gaf. She’ll knit a sweater for your corpse.

Tamika: Which book do you want imprinted into your skull? 

Kevin: I dunno man I mean he decorates his studio with blood and at least once that blood was that of several grown men that could have out muscled him but somehow didn’t. Good luck I guess? Try get him whilst he sleeps. If he sleeps.

Lauren: Apparently her weakness is books and she doesn’t have Strex behind her now so please, do : )

Dana: Do not be fooled by her adorable voice, she will wreck you. She has seen some shit man, she had been through too much and will dispatch your ass without thought.

Steve: Will probably let you win unless you insult his family. Compliments you on how well you decked him so you feel encouraged. Beating him will leave an eternal pit of sadness in your stomach.

Station Management: ???????????? hope there’s enough left of you to have a funeral with.

Earl: He’s a scout and a chef. He will go Hannibal Lecter on your sorry ass. This town is full of people that fight to the death every day and he was trained as a child to do this. Although if you remind him of how depressing his life is he’ll probably just sit and cry lmao

Computer: It’s a machine and you could literally beat it by picking it up and dropping it. Well done, you just robbed a child of her first/only friend, you monster.

Faceless old woman: Can’t hit what you can’t see lol

Hiram: L I T E R A L  F I V E  H E A D E D  D R A G O N

Roger Harlan: I mean he’s like eight so it’s an easy win but would you feel good about it?

Glow Cloud: Foolish creature how dare you try and strike the almighty Glow Cloud. That which rules over us all. That which knows all, that which is all. ALL HAIL. ALLL HAIIILL.

The Beagle:  ẃ̲̞̠ͅh̸̡̥̹̫͇̻͍̱̯̰͎̪͇̦̺̟̯͍͢͡ó̸̸̮̮̬̗͘͠s̩͕̝̩͍̕͡͝͞ͅ ҉̸̣̖̣̣̦̲̲̜̗̞̘̗̕͞ͅa͇̜͇̹̱͜͠ ̛̱̳̱͓͖͍̻̜̼̰̖̻̯͝ͅg̝͓̲̘̙͈̳͇̙̩̖͝o̷̹̣̤̱͟o̴̧̙̜̞̦͙̼̩͍̤͍͡d̵̵̢̗͖̯͈̪̻̗̫̝̘̩̣̹̦̺͎̕͟ ̢̘̣̲͖̜̤̻͙͙̘̘̼̪͕͚̣̕͘͡ḅ̸̶̰̤̳̲̬̥͍̩͓̰̼̪̰̣̝͖̤͟͠͞o҉̛̹͈͚̤̲̙̦̝̖̪͡y̶̨͖̘̖̳̗̜̣͚̦̼̞̘͈̯͍͝ͅ?

#SaveHannibal Countdown: Mizumono

We’re 98 days from Bryan’s two years ultimatum now, counting down for S4 news!

Today is S02 E13 Mizumono three years anniversary!

To celebrate, reblog this and add your favorite Mizumono scene pic, meme, quote, gif etc. - or your own fanwork.

My favorite moment (well, it’s not that short, but…) my favorite moment (among others) is whole this “We couldn’t leave without you“ thing.

Hannibal truly opened to Will, he allowed him to get closer than anyone else has ever got… He even offered Will a redemption without killing anyone when he realized that Freddie is still alive! But Will couldn’t leave his old life for the new one, yet.

And so his betrayal felt even worse… Just look at Hannibal’s face. In the end, he cried - and there was no one for who he should pretending; this time his tears were genuine.

Did you, Will? You should’ve known earlier…

So, because Will hurt him emotionally in a way no other person in the world could, Hannibal decided to hurt Will physically and make him feel his own pain.

Then, poor Abbie… Hannibal liked her, for sure! But he saved her mainly for Will. Without Will she would have died in the kitchen in Minessota, under her father’s knife. But Hannibal saved her for Will back then and he did it again when everyone thought she had been killed. She was a gift to Will, something what he could have if he would decide to go with Hannibal. But he didn’t want it, so Abigail died in the kitchen, under her father’s knife…

And right here, the dream about murder family was washed away with rain and tears…

It’s never easy to choose a scene, Hannibal is simply full of perfection! So I hope you will point out some other scenes here with me ;-)

Also, see you next week - we’ll countdown with S3 episodes!

#SaveHannibal Countdown: Kaiseki - Sakizuki - Hassun - Takiawase - Mukozuke - Futamono - Yakimono - Su-zakana - Shiizakana - Naka-Choko - Ko No Mono -Tome-wan - Mizumono - SEASON 3 - 2 years anniversaries

I would like to see a sort of phantom-of-the-opera themed fic, where Will works for the opera, not as one of the singers, but in the orchestra pit.

Originally posted by janexausten

Originally posted by helloyangmal

(long stream-of-thought summary of the story below)

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The Locked Door

Originally posted by sungl0ry

Hannibal x Reader

AN: I know Hannibal’s office isn’t in his house but for some reason that’s just where pictured it for this

The first day you accepted Hannibal’s offer of his spare bedroom you didn’t notice the door. Too distraught about having to flee your home in favour of Hannibal’s, hoping to keep safe long enough for the FBI to catch whoever was following you.

The second day you were a little curious but careful. Trying to ask questions without really asking them which, to Hannibal, became an amusing game as he tested who you were.

The third day was when you started to inspect the home, curiously considering rooms, always aware that you were being watched, almost assessed. At one point, you got yourself lost in the large house and found your way to a room so full of books you were sure it out shone the local library.

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anonymous asked:

So I just read about how in some European folklore pumpkins could turn into vampires. I have no idea how to make this into a story, but this just screams Hugh Dancy to me.

I’ve never heard of that before! 

After a bit of poking around, I wrote a little young Hannibal at the orphanage and pumpkin-vampire Will fic~

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Ok, so @magicaldestiny was SO KIND to let me off the hook for her birthday fic while I was drowning in Spacedogs stories. So I would like to thank her for that and say….LOOK! I remembered to do the thing, months later. Please forgive the lateness - as well as how incredibly sappy this is m’dear. 

         Will pulled the blanket around him, trying to control the shivers that wracked his body.  This was worse than the cliff - worse than the sound of his skull rattling as Jack screamed for Hannibal to stop the saw. Will let himself loll to the side, head thumping weakly on the arm of the sofa. Through half-closed eyes, Will saw calf-leather loafers shuffling toward him.

         “If you were planning to kill me again, now would be a great time,” Will moaned, letting his eyes fall closed. He heard the clink of a tray as it settled on the coffee table before he felt himself being pulled upright and settled against a warm, solid mass.

         “I wouldn’t dream of killing you,” Hannibal murmured in Will’s ear, offering him a steaming cup of tea. “Unless you wipe your nose on my hand loomed throw again.”

         “I apologized for that.” The tea smelled of ginger, Will gulped it down.

         “Hmmm, and yet the stain remains.”

         “You know you actually gutted me, right? Like, my actual innards spilled out.”

         “I regret that more than you’ll ever know.” Hannibal sighed, pressing a kiss behind Will’s ear. “I’m sure the floors had to be refinished. They were original to the house.”

         “If I wasn’t three seconds from dying, I’d smack you.”

         “Don’t be ridiculous, Will. You’ve got hours before dehydration would even seriously threaten you.” Hannibal held up a bowl of soup and made Will swallow a few spoonfuls. “There, I’ve just bought you another half hour, at least.”

         “Did Hopkins ever talk to you about bedside manor?”

         Hannibal smirked. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

         Will sneered. “Sex puns? When I’m too weak to defend myself? Have you no mercy?”

         “None.”  Hannibal fed Will a few more swallows of soup before setting the bowl on the table. “Now, how shall we wait out this illness? I could read to you? Perhaps play something?”

         Will opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Hannibal frowned.


         “You won’t want to do it.”

         “I would have thought after the incident in Pallentine Chapel, you’d know there is very little I’m not willing to do to and for you.”

         “For the last time, if I had known that goddamn nun was watching us, I wouldn’t have-”

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@nostalgic-uncertaintyA fluffy Hannibal :3 as fluffy as he can be without it being weird that is XD maybe one in which reader is going out with Hannibal and it’s great until she walks in on him killing someone in his murder suit, she flips out, he drugs her and then what happens is up to you XD

Ugh, I love Hannibal waaaaaay more than I should considering, y’know, he’s a cannibalistic serial killer… I’m always nervous writing about Hannibal because I’m scared of characterising him incorrectly; feels like an insult to do that. But after months of procrastination, I just have to sit and write the thing that scares me. Hannibal wouldn’t mind, I hope. But anyways, uhm, @thranduilsperkybutt helped me out so much with this. If you don’t follow them, you really should. Everything they write is flawless and almost taken from canon. Thank you, lovely! ❤

Originally posted by sirenja-and-the-stag

Your shift was almost over, thankfully. You just had to print out some files and leave them in your outbox for Monday. 

As you were walking down the corridor to the printing room, you heard shuffling and a series of grunts coming from the Director’s office. Thinking it may have just been the Director working out in his office, as he kept a punching bag in the corner, you thought nothing of it, walking past without glancing inside and continuing on your errand.

As you reached the printer, scanning your aged ID card and carrying out your errand, you were initially unaware of the sudden lack of background noise. Indeed, as you began to notice the quiet ringing in your ears, the silence became deafening.

Something was wrong. There was ice in your gut and though you couldn’t say why, you felt compelled in equal measures to investigate and run away. There was no telling which of the two compulsions was stronger.

Slipping your heels off because really, they were death traps, you padded quietly down the corridor, back the way you came. You reached the office and there was very little sound, just quiet squelches and the odd squeak, as though two things very much attached to one another were now being ripped apart forcibly.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you curled your hand around the door frame and peered around, looking into the expanse of the office. All you saw at first glance was the sight of a familiar broad back, clad in a plastic suit, leaning over the desk chair, occasionally grunting with the physical exertion. 

There was a metallic tang in the air, and you gagged. You knew what was before you, what your five senses were registering, but you didn’t want to believe it. How could you believe it?

The imposing figure turned then, and your heart dropped into your stomach, bile rising up into your throat as you recognised the perpetrator. 


His eyes… Never before had you seen your partner look at you, look at anyone, like that. He was, for lack of a better word, unfeeling. There was no emotion in his eyes. Hannibal Lecter had the eyes of a shark, now. He was facing you directly, his predatory eyes meeting yours unflinchingly. 

You didn’t recognise the man stood in front of you.

And the man behind him, he - your eyes widened, your breath caught in your throat and all sense of logic left you immediately. The room was spinning and you couldn’t think or see straight. You felt the need to run, to run, far away and never once look back. 

His throat had been cut deeply, exposing white bone, which had an ugly contrast with the sheer amount of blood and the ravaged flesh around it. You knew what those grotesque noises had been - Hannibal, cutting and tearing into tissue, his hands grabbing and pulling apart sinew and bone, the crunches and pops, like a chicken leg when you twist the cartilage and break it apart. It had been raw, animalistic, and yet perfectly carried out… What Hannibal had done, he had done well, and you knew all at once that Hannibal had killed before.

When you’d walked in, interrupting him, Hannibal had been settling the head against the plush backrest of the desk chair, adding the finishing touches to his murder.

Your eyes didn’t want to leave the sight of the remains of the Director and yet you couldn’t look away fast enough. You struggled to breathe, to think straight, to realise that you should call for help, for back-up, to take Hannibal down.

As your eyes settled back on the man you no longer knew, your chest heaving, your starved lungs craving oxygen, a part of you instantly knew where you had seen that look before, in the eyes of those featured in your criminology textbooks. Hannibal’s eyes were cold, calculating, and you realised somewhere in your mind that you were the next puzzle that had to be solved. You hoped that your romantic ties to the man, the beast, before you, would be your grounds for mercy, but if he could do this to the Director, then there was no telling what he’d do to you.

He took a step towards you, his face unreadable, his eyes cold and foreboding, and then other step, careful and measured. Whereas before you had wanted nothing more than to run, now you found yourself quite rooted to the spot. Something flashed across his face so quickly that you couldn’t identify it. He sped up, never faltering, never falling, just quick and steady, and he reached you so quickly that you didn’t even have the time to scream.

There was a very sudden movement, something in his hand, and then a sharp sting in your neck, and you succumbed to the darkness which now clouded your vision.

 You came back into yourself slowly, your head fogged by whatever Hannibal had drugged you with, your movements slow. You didn’t know how you’d gotten here or even why you were here. 

You looked around the room, taking in your surroundings. Recognition pulsed through you - you’d spent several nights here before in the past, when Hannibal had been too much of a gentleman to let you drive home in the middle of the night. You relaxed then, only to jolt up as you realised belatedly that the door was effectively blocked by Hannibal leaning up against it, not a hair out of place.

He was watching you closely, the way that a lion watches a gazelle that is perilously close to the pride. You knew then that, one wrong move, and he’d likely kill you or sedate you again.  You were also at a crossroads - you could either… accept this side of Hannibal and stay alive, or you could make a run for it. You knew that the former option would likely result in your death, because Hannibal would just drag you right back to this place, and then you may never make it out alive.

During this, Hannibal had been watching you, closely. He could almost see the cogs turning in your mind as to which option you were likely to take, and he knew you well enough to know that a part of you had already chosen. The rest of you just had to come to terms with and accept it.

“Well, what are you going to do?” The way he said it made it seem like you had a choice here, but you’d had enough training to know that you really didn’t. 

You had no choice.

It was stay and live, or leave and die. Simple as that, with no possibility of compromise.

“Why did you drug me?” Your voice was quiet, scratchy, and Hannibal looked towards your bedside cabinet, which had a glass of water sat atop it. You took it and drank gratefully, swallowing as you waited for his answer. You hoped that he’d tell you the truth now that you had discovered his biggest and deadliest secret.

“You were being irrational. Now look at how calm you are.” 

You nodded carefully, your mind working overtime to try to rationalise and justify all of this. 

Hannibal lingered in the doorway for another moment or two before he made his way towards you, his body language open and relaxing, now. The man before you was your Hannibal, not the man in the Director’s office. You couldn’t help the fond smile that found its way onto your face as those familiar dark brown eyes met yours, filled with something you wanted to be warm affection. 

He smoothed your hair down with a single hand, which moved down to cup your chin. You leaned into his touch like a cat, and he smiled, leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. Then, Hannibal turned and left the room, shutting the door with a firm snap behind him.

This ended abruptly because I’ve spent two hours on this and I’ve had enough of it, plus I don’t think you’d really address the issue, it’d be one of those things that just never gets acknowledged. I could be wrong, though. Anyways, I had my mum read through this because I’m nervous about posting it. Hope you like it.

Part 2

The Evolution of Radiance

Summary: When did Will decide to free Hannibal from prison? He wasn’t sure himself, until Francis Dolarhyde helped him make the decision.

Chiyoh adjusted the blinds in the safe house as the brightness still bothered Hannibal’s eyes. He grunted softly in protest as she loomed over Hannibal’s bed, and wiped at his forehead with a cool, wet towel.

Lying in the other bed in the room, Will Graham craned his neck to peer at Hannibal’s figure. Bandaged and bruised, how small Hannibal appeared. How fragile, as he hardly stirred, recovering from the wounds both Dolarhyde and Will had inflicted on him.

The sound of the rain outside beat against the windows that surrounded the tiny house. It both soothed and agitated Will. But he was accustomed to his constant contradictory state, as he had lived most of his life that way. Struggling, fighting against himself. Until now. Now he finally accepted who he was. He stared at Hannibal, as Chiyoh, in turn, studied him with caution.

“If you leave this bed – if you approach Hannibal – I will break your legs.”

Will remained silent and gave her a curt nod.

“I will not hesitate,” she said as she walked to the door and slowly closed it partially behind her.

Will listened to Hannibal’s shallow, slow breaths. They became a metronome that kept him in time with his memories. Memories that haunted him, memories he’d rather forget – save for a few…


The thought never occurred to him. Not really. Even as he sat in the quiet solace (as false as it was) of the cabin he shared with Molly, and re-read Hannibal’s letter for the fiftieth time did it ever enter his mind. He never considered helping Hannibal escape.

Will Graham watched the letter burn after he threw it into the fireplace, and with it any remaining deeply hidden thoughts or emotions he had felt about the man. At least that’s what he told himself.

And so, Will clutched his person suit tightly about himself, swallowed thickly, and continued along his days, his nights, in this old new life with Molly. He continued and didn’t think about Hannibal Lecter.

When Molly said he should go with Jack, he should help and make a difference, she had no idea how much would change. Even as Will assured her he would be different, she still had no clue. How could she?

How could she see that the man she married was a fiction– a version of Will Graham he’d made up to fit into Molly’s life, Molly’s expectations. Oh, how he so wanted to fit. The Will Graham he’d made up caught fish for his wife to fry and laughed as it stunk up the entire cabin; the Will Graham he invented wore hand-knitted sweaters with dropped stitches; the Will Graham he gave birth to taught Walter how to solve algebraic equations; he would sit with his wife’s feet in his lap as he worked on the New York Times crossword puzzle.

How he wanted to be that Will Graham, instead of this one, who at the moment struggled with the Tooth Fairy, in a cheap motel room, for breath and dominance; the Will Graham who wasn’t sure yet if he’d help Hannibal escape.

Just before his mind went blank, as Francis Dolarhyde smothered his face with a chloroformed washcloth, Will’s thoughts reached out like tendrils – like desperate hands searching for one final life preserver – and what he found was one quick memory. A snippet of a conversation between he and Hannibal. Grasping and remembering…

“Tell me, did your heart race when you murdered her?”

“No, it didn’t.”

“A low heart rate is a true indicator of one’s capacity for violence. Your design is evolving.”

And as his eyes began to close, in this losing battle, he noticed that his heartbeat remained steady and low as he fell deep into the unknown.

The road that led him to that moment seemed to have been coming almost his entire life. How different would he had been had his mother stuck around? If his father had been more reliable? If he hadn’t been cursed with his so-called gift. (Was it a gift really, if you could tell that your second grade teacher pitied and feared you? You stared just a little too much, a little too hard for her taste.)

Seeing Hannibal again after all those years was a bit of a shock – but not because he was afraid – well, in truth he was – but because he knew Hannibal understood him still. Even with the distance and the time.

“Are we no longer on a first name basis?”

No, I would like that very much. Once more. Just once, forever.

“I’m more comfortable the less personal we are.”

It was a lie, however. Will already began to feel whole again, real – and god knows he hated himself for it. Molly and Walter deserved better.

This dullness he felt, had felt for the last three years, was eating away at him like rust on fine steel, like maggots on old meat. The mere sound of Hannibal’s voice began to pull Will out of the dullness. Good god, the soul crushing dullness.

He woke with a startle as Francis doused him with water; a quick baptism.

“Breathe deeply. Do you think you can sit up? Try to sit up.”

Will obliged, grateful he could still move. He sat patiently and listened as Francis explained himself, his grand mission. Will nodded, heartbeat steady and low.

“You think you understand, don’t you?” Francis asked.

“I understand that blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your radiance. Hannibal said those words to me.”

(First name basis, once again.)

“I want to meet Lecter. How do I manage that?”

And it was then, right then when Will Graham decided. If anyone was going to meet Hannibal, it would be him. Only him. His plan to free Hannibal was born, easily and without doubt.

His final change, his true radiance – a leap from the lackluster, from the maddening politeness – would finally be welcome. Will would accept this as his fate.

He’d always known, anyhow.


The rain had slowed to a drizzle as it caressed the windows of the safe house, and Will could see that Hannibal had fallen into a deeper sleep. Will sighed contentedly knowing that fate had smiled upon him once again. How very fortunate they had been to have survived. Together. And whether it was at the gates of Hell or the halls of Valhalla, it would be Will and Hannibal together. Eternally.

Will Graham accepted that his design had evolved yet again, and his radiance?

Well… it was blinding.

Good Cannibal, Sit

This is my late (sorry) entry to @hannibalcreative‘s #ReleaseTheCrackin! It’s also dedicated to the ever wonderful @evertonem, because I promised her dog-related crack in the hopes of bringing some cheer. I hope you enjoy!

         In retrospect, Hannibal could admit that giving Will psilocybin mushroom tea might have been a bit of an overreaction. Will had been unusually quiet for days, and Hannibal had let fear, of another cliff or another person, get the better of him. He’d tried speaking to Will, but was greeted with eyerolls and the invitation to “shut his big bazoo”.

         Still, perhaps it wasn’t wise to drug the one you love. Will certainly hadn’t reacted well to the stabbings, so he probably wouldn’t react well to surreptitious hallucinogens. Hannibal made the decision to bring out a tray of goodies and replace Will’s tea with a slightly less nefarious chai blend. If Will wanted to be moody, then Hannibal would just have to let him.

         “Will?” Hannibal walked along the flagstones toward the patio that overlooked the Loire Valley, a tray of fresh blackberry jam and brown sugar scones in one hand.

         “Hey! Put that down!”

         Hannibal turned to see Will stomping toward him, stern expression on his face. With a raised brow, Hannibal took a few steps and placed the tray on their wrought iron table. When he turned, Will flicked him on the nose.

         “Bad! No stealing food!” Will swatted Hannibal on the ass. Hannibal opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when noticed Will’s empty teacup by the tray of scones. A hallucination then, but of who?

         Will looked at Hannibal for a long moment, something soft creeping into his eyes. Hannibal cocked his head taking in the expression. Will yanked Hannibal to his chest, his hands sinking into the doctor’s hair and scratching roughly.

         “God, I’ve missed you,” Will whispered into Hannibal’s disheveled locks. “Who’s my good boy? You are, Winston. You are!”

         “Will…” Hannibal tried to disentangle from Will’s grip. Clearly, he’d overestimated Will’s tolerance for the mushrooms. He should probably have him lay down and hydrate before dinner.

Keep reading

Alana Finds Out: Zombies!

Another instalment of AFO in honour of Ladies of Hannibal week… in which Alana faces the possible end of the world… and some other unfortunate revelations.

(Also a small warning: there are mentions of offstage character deaths here. None of the major characters are affected, but be prepared in any case.)

Also on AO3.

“…the attackers can be stopped by removing the head or destroying the brain.”

Alana stood watching the television she hadn’t even known Hannibal owned, transfixed by the impossibility of what she was seeing. On the screen, a news anchor, sweating through his shirt and a face-full of makeup, was giving details of what no one could any longer deny was the rise of the undead.

“Alana,” Hannibal had appeared behind her silently, his hand on her arm causing her to jump, “I think it is time to go.”

She turned to face him and froze. The man in front of her looked very much like Hannibal Lecter, except he was dressed in jeans, heavy boots and a leather jacket and appeared to have strapped the katana from his bedroom to his back.

“Hannibal, what…”

“The transport is outside, Alana, it is time for you to go.”

She looked up from his unfamiliar ensemble, taking in the firm set of his mouth, the sad look in his eyes. “Why aren’t you coming?”

“I have a friend out there who requires my help.”

Alana didn’t have to wonder. “You’re going to find Will. Even after what he did, what he accused you of?”

Hannibal nodded. “You know as well as I that Will is not guilty.”

In the face of the zombie apocalypse, Alana found it all too easy to accept the truth of this, as well as something else she now knew should have been obvious. “You’re in love with him.”

“Yes. I’m sorry if that upsets you but if there still exists a chance to keep him safe, I must take it.”

Alana considered getting upset for a moment but she had never seen her progression from Hannibal’s friend to his lover as anything more than a clutch for comfort by either of them. Not to mention, the presence of the armed transport outside, courtesy of Jack Crawford’s calling in of every favour he’d ever earned, rather shortened the timeframe for confrontations. Instead, she simply wrapped her arms around Hannibal, with the words, “Don’t be too reckless. Take care of him.” She drew back and met his eyes, “And be honest with him. No metaphors, no literary allusions, no exquisitely crafted obfuscations. Just tell him. I’m reasonably certain you’ll get the response you want.”

Hannibal’s eyes lit at this, in a way she’d never seen before. “You are?”

She shrugged, feeling surprisingly light-hearted in the face of the end of both her relationship and, potentially, the world. “The other reason I told him I couldn’t date him? When the pair of you aren’t trading elegant couplets on the subject of murder, you’re eye-banging like no one else can see you. It’s not subtle.”

It was this final sentence that meant, as she took her bags to the door, the last thing Alana saw of her former lover, was the unexpectedly beautiful sight of Hannibal Lecter blushing.

Three years later.

Alana would know those curls anywhere.

She was in Florida, helping a colleague to run a week of counselling sessions for traumatised survivors. Given that mostly everyone still alive in the US qualified as such, these events were always utter chaos, a barely controlled swell of emotion coupled with endless paperwork and administration. The chances that Alana would catch glimpse of a living, breathing Will Graham in any context were, she contemplated, microscopic. That she would, through the packed crowds of the conference centre, simply glance towards the refreshments table to see him struggling one-handed with a coffee pot seemed impossible to the point of absurdity.

And yet.

Alana excused herself from her colleagues and crossed the room, almost in a daze. Just before she could reach him, though, she realised with horror that the reason for Will’s struggle was the total absence of his left arm. His shoulder simply ended abruptly in a stump, covered with fabric neatly tailored to his altered form. Alana was used to such injuries – there had been far greater call for medics than psychiatrists during the last few years and Alana had found herself in field hospitals all across the country – but she couldn’t keep the words from leaving her lips.

“Oh, Will.”

He turned, clearly surprised to hear his name, still holding the pot in his remaining hand. She watched his eyes light with recognition as he set down the coffee and pulled her in for an embrace.

“Alana, you’re alive! I wasn’t sure, I… I don’t have the connections I had before.” He pulled back to look at her properly. “You’re ok? You’re safe, happy?”

“All of the above.” She felt a huge grin cross her face, the same reflected a second later on Will’s. It faded after a moment, though, as she glanced at the space where his arm should have been.

Will caught her look and said, “It’s ok, it could’ve been so much worse. Should have been. I got bit,” Alana’s head snapped up and she stared at him. “I know. Thought I was done for sure. It was only because of the guy with me, he took my arm off the second after the thing got hold of me. Kept the infection from spreading. Another second…” he trailed off, eyes clouded for a second, then shrugged. “I figure, an arm’s not that much of a sacrifice. And other than that, I’m a hell of a lot healthier than I was pre-apocalypse.”

Alana took a moment to look him over. Will was right – where she had known a scruffy, twitchy, often sweaty mess of a man who concealed his looks behind stubble and poor eye contact, the man before her now was neat and clean, smartly groomed and dressed in simple but elegant clothes. He also looked healthy, well-fed and clear-skinned, with an ease in his posture that she had never seen before. More than anything, though, he was meeting her eyes without hesitation, the expression in them so warm and genuine she wondered how she had ever thought him capable of violence and murder.

She smiled, feeling a prickle of tears in her eyes and then laughed, blinking them away. “The end of the world clearly agrees with you.” Will barked out a laugh, the same one she remembered, and she reflected gladly that some things remained unchanged. Then, without warning, she blurted, “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Will.”

He cast his eyes away for a second but then looked back and shrugged. “It’s ok. I wouldn’t have believed me. It’s forgotten.”

“And… you’re a free man? They didn’t try to put you back in?”

“They made some perfunctory noises about it but, given my exemplary service to the nation in zombie massacring, as well as the fact that pretty much all the evidence against me was lost one way and another, they didn’t pursue it too hard. Apparently the going rate for freedom is a couple hundred undead and my total’s well above that, thus I am a fully certified member of the post-apocalyptic society.” He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I’m not letting you go anytime soon, Bloom,” Will told her, taking her hand and dragging her to a couch in the corner. They sat and he looked seriously at her. “Do you know what happened to the others? Crawford? Katz and her boys?” Alana noticed that he didn’t say anything about Hannibal and realised, the thought sinking like a stone within her, that if Hannibal wasn’t with Will, it was because he had died trying.

The tears returned to Alana’s eyes and Will’s expression dropped. She pulled herself together, took a deep breath and told him. “Zeller died early on. He was out on duty when the bodies at the crime scene…” she sniffled, “he went out fighting but he wouldn’t have had a clue what was going on. He wasn’t turned, they just… destroyed him. Price was distraught, of course, Beverly too. He’s still alive, got a partner and kids, named his son Brian. He says if the kid doesn’t develop a terrible sense of humour and a fascination with dead bodies he won’t have done his job right.” Will grinned weakly, his own eyes sparkling with tears.

Alana clutched tightly at his hand with both of hers. She had hoped never to tell this next part ever again. “Jack… Jack’s dead too. He…” Alana was openly crying now. “He made sure he got everybody to safety that he could. Then he… god, Will, he helped Bella to go. They were found in their bed together, there was a syringe next to her and a bullet in his head. He left a note, said that he was tired of fighting monsters and since Bella couldn’t follow him, he’d follow her.” Will pulled her tight against himself and they sobbed together.

Eventually, they quietened and Will leaned back, saying, “He was a great man. A gigantic, bull-headed bear of a great man. I’m glad they were together at the end.” He squeezed her hand and then a frown crossed his brow. “What about Beverly? Is she…”

“Don’t worry. Not all my stories are sad.” Alana took a deep breath and tried to shake off her grief. “Beverly Katz is alive, a decorated hero of the war on zombies and, other than losing an eye in combat, is both hale and hearty and every bit the snarky, badass bitch she ever was.”

The relief in Will’s eyes was dazzling. “Saved the best for last, huh? I bet she really pulls off the eye patch.”

“I think so,” Alana agreed, “it’s really the main reason I married her.”

Will’s stunned expression was a picture. “What?” he nearly squealed. “You and Katz?”

Alana held up her left hand to show off her wedding ring. “She’s pretty amazing. And stupidly hot when smiting the undead.”

Will grinned and launched himself at her for yet another hug. She felt him chuckle against her and say, “Remember when I kissed you?”

“I faintly recall.”

“Really barking up the wrong tree, huh?”

“My finding you attractive was never the problem, Graham.” She smacked him lightly on the head. “Though I must admit, I like the new look better than the flannel.”

“Ah, yeah, there’s a reason for that.” Will released her and held up his own hand, displaying a gold band. “Snap. Wrong hand, of course, but completely official.”

“You got married? To who? Is she here, can I meet her?”

Will grinned, looking pleased with himself. “I believe my darling spouse should be arriving soon. I’ll give you all the gory details when I can make the introductions.”

“You’d better.” Alana decided she had to ask, before Will’s wife appeared and the chance was lost. “Will, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but the last time I saw him, Hannibal was on his way to try to save you from Chilton’s hospital. He… he was in love with you, you know.” Will looked down. “I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t want to know that but… did he ever find you, did you ever see him again?”

From behind her, a familiar voice interjected, “Who else do you know could cut off a man’s arm and then convince him to marry them?”

Will’s grin could’ve lit the city. “Alana, I’d like you to meet my husband, Dr Hannibal Lecter.”

Alana turned to raise her eyes along all six-foot plus of her former mentor, finding herself unable to move. Hannibal seemed relatively unharmed, save for a wicked-looking scar that ran the length of one cheekbone. Seeing her shock, he grinned from ear to ear and Alana realised, as he leaned down for a hug, that she had never seen such an open expression on his face. Indeed, as Hannibal crossed to his husband, stealing a kiss before sitting behind him and pulling Will back against his chest, she realised how little resemblance this relaxed, loose-limbed, contented man bore to the one she had known before.

“She looks a little dazed, don’t you think darling?” Will asked teasingly.

“Positively stunned, dearest,” agreed Hannibal.

“So, I was right about the eye-banging,” Alana interjected, not wanting to let them win.

As Hannibal smirked behind him, Will exclaimed, “What the hell does that mean?”

After they’d finished laughing, they exchanged war stories for a couple of hours, Hannibal equally delighted to hear of Alana’s marriage and Alana entirely unsurprised it took less than two weeks after Hannibal had rescued Will from the BSHCI for their first kiss to occur.

Eventually, as the venue began closing for the night, Hannibal said, “Alana, we would love to have you for dinner.” Will seemed to choke a little as Hannibal clarified, “For you to come to our house to eat dinner.”

“You still cook, Hannibal?”

Will snorted. “As if the end of the world could stop him.”

“Yes,” Alana continued, “but you always cooked meat and it’s so hard to come by now.”

“In fact, my darling husband has adjusted well to a vegetarian diet,” Will told her. “Claims a couple of years killing zombies kinda did for his bloodlust.” His eyes twinkled as he looked up at Hannibal, whose eyes crinkled in response. Clearly Alana was missing some inside joke but she chose not to pry.

“In any case,” Hannibal added, “cutting off a large part of the man you love,”

“With a katana,” Will added.

“…has the unfortunate side effect of making butchery somewhat less appealing.”

Alana began to laugh at that, with the two men joining soon after and it took a couple of minutes for them to compose themselves. Finally, she regained enough breath to say, “A vegetarian dinner cooked by Hannibal Lecter. I knew there was a reason I survived the zombie apocalypse.”

chronicopheliac  asked:

Fluff meme: "Don't be silly. I want to stay up with you." <3

Some season one hannigram, just for you!

“I’m sorry. This is just-” Will pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. “I don’t even know why I called you.”

The dogs milled around Hannibal’s feet, sniffing at his pockets. He must have brought them treats at some point, Will thought. He could already see their fur sticking to the fine wool of Hannibal’s trousers.

Somehow it felt stranger having Hannibal in his house with him than knowing he’d been there alone. He looked so out of place amongst Will’s soft, worn furniture. His suit a little too crisp, hair a little too gelled into place.

It might be nice to run his hands over him, make him a little dishelved, Will’s traitorous mind thought. He swallowed hard and watched Hannibal scratch Winston’s head.

“You called because you were concerned, and, ostensibly, you trusted me enough to share your concern with me,” Hannibal said. “Tell me again about the noise you heard.”

Will dropped onto the foot of the bed. The mattress sunk as Hannibal joined him.

“It was like something was pawing at my door, but when I went outside nothing was there. And the dogs didn’t- I don’t know, the just laid there, like they didn’t hear it.”

“Are you certain it wasn’t a dream?”

“No, I didn’t even get to fall asleep before I heard it. Am I- do you think I’m going crazy?”

“Crazy is relative. One might, for example, find living with seven dogs to be crazy. For another it might merely be a facet of their daily life.”

Will arched a brow at Hannibal. “Did you drive all the way out here to insult me?”

Hannibal smiled. “No. I came here because I thought you might find some comfort in having someone to keep you company. You sounded panicked on the phone. And to answer your previous question, no. I don’t think you’re crazy. However-”

“I’m unintentionally taking my work home with me, I know.”

Will looked past Hannibal at the snow swirling outside. Almost an inch had piled up since he’d arrived. Inside the room the fire crackled.

“You can go home. If you want,” Will said. “I’m sure you didn’t sign up to do house calls when you went into psychiatry.”

“Don’t be silly, Will. You’re my friend, not my patient. I want to stay up with you.”

He searched Hannibal’s face for pity, any sign that he was humoring Will. All he could see was the way Hannibal licked his lips, the way the bit of saliva left behind glistened like a beacon in the firelight.

Will closed the space between them.

Hannibal stiffened. Panic clawed its way up Will’s throat.

Just before he could pull away and spout a thousand apologies, Hannibal fisted his hands in Will’s shirt and dragged him closer. What began as a simple, almost chaste kiss became all teeth and tongue and roaming hands. It took Buster whining and leaping onto the bed to separate them.

“Sorry. I should let them out,” Will mumbled against Hannibal’s mouth. His breath was ragged.

“Of course.”

Before Will stepped out the door, he glanced back at Hannibal. Hannibal’s lips were kiss-swollen, his shirt wrinkled. He looked debauched in all the right ways.

They would have to talk about this later. Analyze the way Will had clutched at Hannibal for stability. Pick through the details of the sounds he’d heard. But for now Will stepped out into the cold air, certain they’d find plenty of ways to pass the night.

Send me a prompt and a pairing and I’ll write you some fluff.

Hannibal Rewatch: 1x01

Season 1, Episode 1 - “Aperitif”

Heeyy all my buddies!

So I thought it would be a swell idea to rewatch Hannibal, because what is emotional stability good for, really? Very little, I’d say.

In my ~dreams~ I imagined writing posts covering the first two seasons that people could read if they were watching Hannibal for the first time, and that would eventually join up with my season 3 recaps to make one continuous chain. But then I realized two things:

1) that maybe I could actually provide something kinda interesting and a little more rare in tv commentary, in that I could relook at a series as a whole, knowing what it is they built over time, and talk about how the boards were laid, as it were

2) that I have no control when it comes to foreshadowing or pain

This latter realization was mostly about myself, and although it wasn’t a surprise it was valuable.

These in turn mean two things for YOU:

1) as a whole these posts will contain spoilers through the Hannibal series finale (it’s over & it’s perfect shhhh wade into the stream). Sometimes the spoilers will be specific, other times it will be more general knowledge of circumstances, which I think counts as a spoiler for Hannibal because so much of the joy/horror of this show is in being very much with the characters in what you are (not) aware of at any given moment. And I don’t want to take that from newbies, so we’re keeping these things on Alert.

2) probably this whole adventure is going to be primarily screen shots followed by me being like

…which was a joke but also, I am beginning to suspect, oddly accurate? Like I just want to make sure everyone is yelling enough and for the right reasons. I am a mere humble thinker of feelings, at your service.

Take, for instance, this, which we see in the very first word-free minutes of the television series Hannibal:

Just the face of a man about to walk forward into the rest of his life. And do you know what he does first? He closes his eyes. Do you know what happens when you close your eyes? That’s when the monsters can move.


Keep reading


Happy birthday, my dear @zacharybosch! Can’t wait to see you again at RDC3. Here’s a Hannigram something in your honor.  A new installment of the Giving Themselves series.  Picks up after Afterglow.  Will proposed to Hannibal, and now they are shopping for rings.

“You’re not going to get me something as pedestrian as a diamond, are you?” Will asked as they strolled through the Fell’s Point antique market on a Sunday afternoon.

Hannibal sipped his coffee, and delicately shrugged.  “What if I would like to have a diamond?”

Will stopped to look at an old Rollex 20 camera at a nearby booth, the seller was asking for $50.  He clicked the shutter a few times then gingerly put it back down on the table.

“With all your pomp and circumstance,” Will said with a smirk, “I really can’t picture you as a diamond guy.”

Hannibal smiled and stroked Will’s arm.

“You know me so well, Will.  You do.  No, no diamonds for either of us.  But I can say I don’t have any idea of what to get.  There are several jewelry shops here that we can visit and perhaps something will jump out at us.”

Will took Hannibal’s coffee, drank a sip, then returned it.

“We don’t have to get rings, you know.  I mean, if we don’t find anything we like, we don’t need rings, Hannibal.”

“I want us to have them.  I want others to look at your hand, at my hand, and know we are spoken for.”

Hannibal stopped in front of Will and continued, “I want people to know that you belong to someone, just as I belong to someone.”

Will blushed and said, “Fine. So let’s go look for some rings.”

They entered Rose and Stone Estate Jewelry.  It was a tiny shoe box of a shop with red walls and a dark mahogany case, lined with red velvet.

“May I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked.

“Yes, we are looking for wedding rings,” Hannibal said.

“Traditional bands?  I do have some matching sets.  We also have some new rings that aren’t vintage but our own creations as well.”

Will looked into the glass case, “I don’t mind traditional bands, I suppose.”

“We have platinum, yellow, rose and white gold.  Any preference?”

Will said, “Yellow” just as Hannibal said, “Platinum.”

They both smiled and looked at each other.

“They don’t have to match, I guess,” Will said.

“I would rather they did,” Hannibal replied, because he was in fact, quite a romantic at heart – but Will knew this about him.  

He also knew that the symbolism of the rings was much more important to Hannibal than it was to him.  He would know in his heart that Hannibal was his, and a ring was irrelevant really.  

“We can get whatever you like.  I promise, I’ll love it.”

Hannibal studied the case intently, but Will could see a broad smile blooming on his face.

The woman smiled and said, “I’ll leave you two to browse and just let me know when you’d like to see something. My name is Maria.”

“Thank you, Maria,” Hannibal replied.

They perused the case for a few minutes, then Hannibal sighed.  “None of these will do.  Should we go to another shop, perhaps?”

“If you want to.  What don’t you like about these?” Will asked.

“They… don’t speak to me, about us.  About what we are.”

“They don’t have a mouth,” Will teased.

Hannibal hit Will gently on the hand, “Insolent.”

Maria approached them and said, “May I show you something I think you’ll like?  It’s not vintage, but rather one our original designs.  Do you like signet rings?”

“I’m not sure,” Will said not knowing exactly what a signet ring was.

Hannibal’s interest was piqued. “Do you have some?”

She pulled out a tray of rings from a small safe underneath the case.  “My husband is a master jewelry and he studied for three years in London to design these.  These are his original creations.”

In the tray were several engraved gemstone signets rings in various precious metals.  Some were engraved with a full coat of arms, another had a lion crest seal engraved onto bloodstone, some had a heraldic crest engraved on blue sardonyx.

“Gemstone engraving is an ancient, extremely rare and somewhat time-consuming craft,” Maria said.  “We’re very proud of the work on these.”

“They’re lovely,” Will said as he picked one and held it up to look at it against his skin.

Hannibal hummed, but didn’t say anything.  His eyes swept across the tray, examining and picturing them on his hand and Will’s hand.

“Well?” Will asked.

Just then, Hannibal saw it.  

He saw it and he knew.  It was a white and red sardonyx oval-shaped stone ring set in yellow gold.  The engraving on top was of a stag sitting underneath a tree.

“I love that one,” Maria said. “My husband designed that one last year, but we have yet to sell it.”

Will looked over to Hannibal, and was momentarily taken aback when he saw the stag on the ring.  It seemed the stag was destined to follow him everywhere.

“You like that one?” Will asked.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Sardonyx is a stone of strength and protection,” Maria said. “They say it brings lasting happiness and stability to marriage and partnerships.”

“Sounds good to me,” Will mused.

Hannibal took Will’s hand and slipped the ring onto Will’s finger. It fit, of course.

“A stag is the king of the forest, the protector of all other creatures. I will protect you, keep you from harm, just as you will protect me.  Always.  This is my design.”

Will nodded and the two looked into each other’s eyes, momentarily lost in the moment, and in one another.  

Hannibal cleared his throat and said, “I’ll take this one, and would also like to commission another identical one in my size, please.”

“Of course. I’ll start the paperwork,” Maria said then walked away.

Will looked at the ring on his finger, how at home it seemed; how perfect it was– it all was. Yes, yes, yes, he thought.  

He then looked at Hannibal and said, “This is our design.”

Also on AO3

Summary: During Digestivo. Hannibal prepares himself & an unconscious Will for their final conversation. 

Hannibal carried him inside. Chiyoh offered to help. He was tired, after all. Frozen and bloodied, hair mopped to the side of his face, shoulders tense and stiff from having been tied back. But he refused, a silent shake of his head and Chiyoh backed away. Walked to the field, rifle in hand. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate her. How, wordlessly, she knew. This was something he must do alone.

Will lay slumped in the backseat, arms limp on the floor. Dead weight. Hannibal felt the same strain he had the night before when he carried him, though he no longer had adrenaline fueling his body. He brought Will, slow, up the steps, across the porch, over the threshold, reveling in every second of pain the twinge in his back sent lighting up his spine.

Hannibal laid Will down delicate onto his bed. Careful not to wake him with too much movement. Fearing he might break.

He’d need some time to think. Prepare. More time than Will’s body was unconsciously willing to give, so he gave two gentle flicks to the syringe, a steady gentle pressure on the plunger, and Will’s sleep took on a far more tranquil rhythm. He drifted deeper. Hannibal, finally, exhaled.

He took a step back, took a moment. Contemplated the door. It stood open behind him, winter chill seeping in through the gap. And then there was the car. Chiyoh. The ease with which he could disappear. It was, he knew, the most practical option. He could make his way to the coast and set sail, heading someplace quiet and obscure, somewhere Will would surely never find him. He’d have to leave quickly in order to get far enough. He’d have to leave now. Hannibal’s eyes, resting on the doorknob, flicked back to the bed. To Will’s pillow flattened curls, the iron streaks of dried blood along his jawline.

He shut the door quietly, though he knew Will was sedated. Nodded to Chiyoh through the window and set to work. 

He took care of himself first, Will’s shower rattling to life, blood peeling off him here and there, ripping off soaking bandages. Ignoring, as best he could, the cold and awful weight inside his chest. The feeling of his lungs filling with water. Water stinging sharp against the brand on his back, the burn raw, white hot pain in every corner of his body.

Deep, drying breaths. Hannibal redressed himself, his wounds. Turned his attention to Will. He undressed him as slowly as time would allow, fingers gliding over skin with each gentle tug of fabric. Placed a cloth over what Will would not want him to see, wrestling down the urge to look. He’d never looked before and he wouldn’t now, Will was worth more than that. Although.

Hannibal sat up straight and felt, all around him, a tension. An uncomfortable air of finality. A penultimate afternoon. He looked back down at Will.

This could very well be his last chance to look. Admire.

Still, he didn’t. He did allow himself one thing, though, face in the crook of Will’s neck. A deep, slow inhale. Committing the scent to memory, locking it in its own room near the center of his mind, before he began with the water.

There were parts of Will still caked in blood from days prior, places Mason’s men hadn’t taken care of. Patches of rough blood stuck to the skin on his chest, stomach, spilt from where Hannibal had opened his head. He couldn’t deny the bizarre amusement he felt cleaning up the fallout from something he had inflicted, though of course, with Will, it wasn’t the first time. His eyes narrowed as his musings led him to the terrible realization that this would, in fact, be the last time. 

Dabbing gently with warm water, watching close as beads of it rolled across Will’s hips, dripping off his waist. Hannibal changed the bandages on Will’s shoulder. Cleaned the wound across his forehead. Slow and somehow far too quick. He took his deliberate time pressing Will dry with a towel, dressed him up again in warm and comfortable clothes. Smoothing the hair across his forehead, resting his fingers against Will’s face.

He knew this would be the last time. Of course he knew. The last time his hands would grip his face. The last time he’d lay him down onto a bed. Hannibal closed his eyes and lived, for only a fraction of a second, in a world where the opposite was true. Where these actions were the first of many times.

…It was still possible. A tiny sliver of possibility rested inside Will, the chance that his journey sparked a deeper understanding of the truth of him, the truth of Hannibal. How those truths fit together.

But then there was the truth of the bullet wound in Will’s shoulder. The ugly scar across his head. The reality of their situation sat thick at the back of Hannibal’s throat, cold in his stomach.

This was the last time.

So, he cleaned up. Discarded old bandages, positioned Will comfortably, carried a chair to his bedside. Hannibal flipped to a new page in his journal, pausing to open the levy, let icy dread flood through his veins and into his pen. Worked, diligent, at solving the problem that teacups and time had laid out before him.

*casually writes a shitty fic for @dancey94 ‘s birthday* HAPPY VERY EARLY BIRTHDAY i haven’t written anything Hannibalesque in like 2 years i’m sorry this is terrible i hope you have an amazing day

“Will, wait! Will!

Already halfway to his car, Will turned around, alerted by Hannibal’s voice. He was running towards him. He seemed to have left the kitchen in a rush, still wearing an apron and no sign of a coat, no matter how cold the wind was in the night. He finally joined Will who hadn’t moved, and took a minute to catch his breath, hands on knees.

“Is something wrong?”

Hannibal looked up. “I insist. You should stay.”

“What?” Will asked, confused. He frowned. “You crossed your entire front yard to say this? I already told you, I don’t think I’d be good company. And I’m sure you have enough guests to take care of already.”

“I had second thoughts. I’d really appreciate if you stayed. We could enjoy your wine together.”

Will gripped his keys in his hands harder, disconcerted by the words. “I—”

“I can ask my guests to leave, if they make you uncomfortable.”

‘That’s not— What? You have more than ten people in there —”

“They’ll get over it.”

“—And you hired waiters and chefs.”

“They already have been paid, they’ll be more than glad to leave earlier than planned.”

Will stayed silent. He could sense that Hannibal would never let it go. And he also could see his lips losing their colors, and the man shivered. “You’re going to get pneumonia if you stay outside.”

“Come with me inside, then.”

It made Will smirk, and he shook his head. “Why are you so persistent tonight?”

“I should have been more persistent before. I wanted to be. It would have been less confusing for you. For both of us.”

“I…,” Will swallowed dry. “I really can’t stay.”


His heart missed a beat. He wasn’t expecting this from the doctor. “I… can come back,” he tried. “In a couple of hours. I need to get gas and—” He cleared his throat. He knew Hannibal would never believe his lies. “Hopefully most of your guests would be gone by then.”

“They will be.”

This whole conversation was surreal.

“Ok,” Will said in a small voice.

Hannibal smiled. “Ok.”

They both stayed silent for a few, long seconds. Hannibal was still smiling while he was observing Will’s eyes, who couldn’t just avoid eye contact right now.

The freezing wind hit Will’s face. It made him shudder. “You should get back inside.”

Hannibal didn’t move.

“Dr Lecter?”

The said man took a step forward, bodies now so close Will could feel his warmth all around him. “I probably should,” he almost whispered.

They gazed at each other for a moment. Will couldn’t help but notice the doctor licking his now dry lips. He couldn’t look away, lost in this sight, until he felt a cold hand pressing against his cheek.


The sharp keys in Will’s hand were now hurting his palm.

“Don’t make me wait, Will,” Hannibal said in an even lower voice. He softly brushed his skin with his thumb, before finally letting go. “I’ll see you soon.”

He crossed his arms and turned away, quickly making his way to the warmth of his home.

Only when Hannibal closed the door Will remembered how to move.

As he was getting into his car, he thought the evening would be interesting.

Happy Fourth Birthday, Hannibal!

In honor of the show’s birthday, I wrote a little birthday themed ficlet. There is a very fine line between Hannigram fic and Hannigram crack fic sometimes, and this lies more on the cracky side. That’s what happens whenever I start out writing from Hanniba’s point of view. But, enjoy anyway!

Surprised by the knock on his door, Hannibal sat down his book and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket. He wasn’t expecting any visitors or patients today. His slightly curious expression changed to one of pleasant surprise to see Will Graham standing in front of him, in what was clearly supposed to be a nice outfit of a dark button up shirt and pants with less pockets and creases than usual, holding a box.

“Hello, Will. This is a pleasant surprise,” He said, gesturing for Will to come in.

Will shuffled and mumbled slightly, “Sorry,I should have called.”

“Not at all. I’m glad to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Will handed him the box. “I know your birthday isn’t until tomorrow. But I figured you would have plans already, so I thought I’d give you my present tonight instead.”

Hannibal had in fact been hoping to see Will on his birthday, and although his fantasies of a birthday present from Will started out similar to this, their endings were usually a bit more…unorthodox.

“Thank you, Will. You are too kind. May I?” He began to open the box.

“I mean that is why I came all this way.” Will was smiling, clearly excited but also a bit nervous about the present.

Hannibal lifted the box to reveal a cake. While not quite up to his decorating standards, it didn’t look awful.

“I know it’s not near what you could make, but I wanted to make something for you. You’re always cooking for me.” Will pulled a bottle of champagne from his bag. “I thought we could celebrate together.”

Hannibal very much liked this addition. He smiled and took the bottle from Will. “Thank you, Will. It’s very thoughtful of you. There’s no one else I’d want to share a bottle of champagne with on the eve of my birthday than you.”   

They sat across from each other at Hannibal’s dining room table, sipping champagne and eating the cake. “This is quite good, Will. I’m impressed.” Hannibal’s eyes met Will’s, and they shared a smile.

Will’s hand fiddled with the stem of the glass, slightly outstretched near the middle of the table. Taking a risk, Hannibal reached out and brushed his fingers against Will’s. Holding his breath slightly, but Will didn’t flinch or move away. Instead, he grinned and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

While not the sex romp fantasy Hannibal had been hoping for, it was a start and that made this the best birthday in his mind.

hannigram - an abusive relationship?

Spoiler alert: it’s not. (But it kind of is. I’ll go in depth about that in a moment.)

I wrote this for a conversation I had in twitter, and thought I wouldn’t need to post it here, but since I saw yet another person claiming that hannigram is abusive I thought I’d post this.

People use the term abusive about relationships that are unhealthy (in their opinion), as evindence for why it should not be shipped/supported. The correct definition of abuse is:

“Treating badly or injurously, mistreating, especially psysically.”

And of relationship abuse it is:

“A pattern of abusive and coercive behaviors used to maintain power and control over a former or current intimate partner. Abuse can be emotional, financial, sexual or physical and can include threats, isolation, and intimidation. Abuse tends to escalate over time. When someone uses abuse and violence against a partner, it is always part of a larger pattern of control.”

So according to this it is abusive, I get it. They both try to kill each other multiple times, they manipulate and lead each other on. They don’t sexually abuse each other though, which at least in my opinion is the worst sort of abuse and I couldn’t ship a couple who did that to one another.

The other thing in this description that doesn’t quite match Hannigram is “abuse tends to escalate over time – it is always a part of larger pattern of control”. The mental abuse between them is at it’s worst in S1 where Hannibal manipulates Will into believing he’s a killer - but this is not to show his power over him, it is simply the only way Hannibal can bring Will into his life. Hannibal has after the first half of S2 been ready to drop the manipulation and violence between them as soon as Will does. And I haven’t seen anyone blame Will of being the main abuser, even though it could be argued that it’s solely his fault that the abuse continues.

The reason why Hannigram doesn’t fit the normal description of abuse is because their relationship is meant to be read as symbolic, not as a literal ideal of love. It’s fiction, and it should be treated as such. Fiction is great, because we can explore possibilities and relationships etc. that aren’t possible in real life. Thankfully the majority in this fandom are really intelligent and understand this, and only few people have failed at understanding what the shoe is about. That group still exists, and that’s why I felt the need to post this

What I believe the antis actually mean when they say it’s abusive is not just that it is violent and manipulative, but that “It’s an abuser/abused relationship, Hannibal is evil and Will is innocent, their relationship won’t work and does more bad than good for both of them, or at least for Will”.

Like I said earlier, it’s not a healthy relationship and it’s not one that I literally want for myself or for anyone I care about - but it’s not unbalanced. At least when we reach the end of third season they are certainly equals, there’s no denying it. I understand that some people don’t ship it because it’s too far from an ideal realtionship, and that’s okay, but hating on it and denying the fact that they’re equals who both choose each other in the end is just plain ignorant.

Will has always been alone, always been different. His relationship with Hannibal gets so close so fast because Hannibal is the first person who actually sees him. I’m gonna quote a Hannigram fic here because I think it described their relationship so well. (Will to Hannibal:) “You always wanted me to be the best version of myself when no one else accepted me for what I already was.” Just like Hannibal let Will see him, Will also let Hannibal see him. Hannibal didn’t “make an innocent puppy become a murderer”, he helped him to become what he already had the potential for.

If the antis and/or deniers have only seen season one, I need to admit that I understand them. Will did kind of seem like an innocent dog loving introvert back then if you didn’t pay much attention to details (like how coldly he treats the parents of the missing girl, how he isn’t afraid of human contact but despises it, how his humor is so dark that it often shocks his colleagues and friends and so on. I could make a post about this, if anyone is interested about that let me know). The first season is about Hannibal manipulating everyone into thinking Will is a killer, experimenting on Will and he does seem like a coldhearted psychopath there.

In season two we see Will gaining more power back, him manipulating and even seducing Hannibal. He isn’t afraid to kill a man in the progress, he eats people with Hannibal almost flirtatiously. This is not what an “innocent” man would do, or even what innocent man physically could do. The darkness inside him is becoming more clear, and even he himself admits that even though he wants to, he can’t hate Hannibal.

Will (to Peter): “I envy your hate. Makes it much easier when you know how to feel.”

He still betrays Hannibal in mizumono (even though he does call him at the last minute to warn him). Before I always though it was just because Will was still trying to cling to some sort of morality, but after Hugh’s comments it is obvious that Will was also afraid Hannibal didn’t and/or couldn’t love him the way he loved him, and so he thought it would be dangerous for him to run away with him and trust Hannibal with his life and wellbeing. Here is what Hugh said:

“I think Will has probably in some way never conceived the possibility that Hannibal could be in love. I mean, he’s got such a black heart. The awareness that they have this connection is something Will knows and is probably in some way profoundly ashamed of, and is also, you know, he keeps coming back to and actually kinda fills him with joy as well. But I don’t think he’d ever give it the name love, because I don’t think he’d ever associate love with Hannibal. – He’s never thought of Hannibal as being capable of love. Because like most of us, he probably had love put off on a kind of pedestal, as an idea, a more perfect thing, as he made the awful realisation: ‘Oh crap, maybe this thing I’m feeling is like love.‘”

I think it is clear to everybody at this point that Hannibal loves Will. His love, though, isn’t your typical “murderer obsessed with a beautiful and innocent woman (obviously man in this case)”. Hannibal loves Will because they understand each other, because they share a way of seeing the world, but also because they have interesting conversations and because they share the same sense of himor and have fun together. In a way, it’s just normal love, just deeper and richer since neither of them has ever had a change to explore that kind of love with anyone else before.

So to conclude: if you take it literally, yes, it is abusive, but that doesn’t make it wrong to ship it, by Hannibal standards at least. (The whole show is a little fucked up so if you can’t live with that why are you here?) Also, it has been abusive until this point only because they (well, mostly Will) have still struggled to accept their feelings for each other. Hannibal has only physically hurt Will if he has betrayed his trust or tried to hurt him first. Personally I don’t believe Hannibal would ever hurt Will again if they were to be a real couple. He also stopped the mindgames and manipulation as early as when Will got out of prison, knowing what he was. And Will has hurt and betrayed Hannibal mostly because of the reasons I stated earlier, because he thought it was the only way to save himself. If they stopped their game of cat and mouse (a game of cat and mouse where the roles change from time to time, or maybe even better description would be a game of cat and cat like Bryan called it) I wholeheartedly believe that they could live in a relationship where neither of them abuses the other.

Like Bryan once said, the core of their relationship is that:

“They had imagined they were unique before they saw each other. Obviously it took Will longer to appreciate that because he didn’t quite realize what he was dealing with in Hannibal, but Hannibal sees it instantly. It’s two people who have never been - I mean Will probably wears it heavier - but still, essentially alone in the world and then see some kind of, maybe not mirror image but the other side of their coin.”

And like Hugh said:

“In a sense the two of them have been wandering the Earth, totally isolated, because they have such a specific and elevated mentality. Not identical, but it is as if not only are you the greatest chess player on the planet, you’re actually the only person on the planet that can play chess. And then suddenly you walk into a roon one day and there’s a guy playing chess. I think that’s how they feel about each other.”

If you leave out the murder and cannibalism and manipulation, Hannigram is about two people who are different than anyone else finding love in each other. Their relationship evolves slowly from friends to lovers, and even though they try to move on neither of them can because they share something so intimate. So in its own, weird and symbolic way, i think Hannibal and Will’s relationship is build on a much better base and is possibly even healthier than many other ships and canon couples out there.