hannigramizcannon

[hannigramizcannon]

I drew hannibal lecter to match abigail hobbs-!! (Don't bully me I'm still working on proportions 😭) ^^

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I tried to draw Abigail Hobbs, but it doesn't look like her 😭...

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The evil you created

Part:2

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Will Graham introduce’s you to Dr Lecter 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆…

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐!: mention of murder, angst?

𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊: do if this is good, but here's part 2-! I wish I could add fluff already but not quite yet sorry :(( longer part coming nexxtt-!!

You walk down the bright hall next to Mr. Graham. Which is difficult because of how fast he was. You look up at him every few moments, trying to decipher the expression on his face, which is also difficult because he is always unreadable and stoic.

You take notice of the man with the strange features following close behind with Jack Crawford. Their footsteps are loud and in sync. The problem with Jack Crawford is that he appears to have a resting, smug face all the time.

The lights inside the behavioural science unit were so bright they were blinding even; they were about a ruler width apart, which gave the impression of flickering due to the quick pace we were walking at.

And it has only occurred to you now that you don't know where you're going or why…

Suddenly, Will comes to a slow stop, twisting down the handle of a stark white door. He stands to the left side of the door allowing you to enter first you slowly enter the room to find a white table with two chairs on either side..it appears to be an interrogation room your heart drops at the very sight..suddenly you can feel heat circulating right up towards your head as if you're being burnt alive (just like your victim..) you stumble back into someone it's the man with peculiar features

-”sorry-!..” you blurt out

“no problem-” the man says. He appears to have a foreign accent, and now that you've taken a proper look at him, he's eloquently dressed in a brown patterned suit and tie. The man smiles oddly.

Mr Graham is seated on the other side of the table while Jack Crawford is leaning over the desk talking to him at a low volume. Mr graham's piercing eyes flick over at you and then back to the file seated on the table.

“take a seat-”

Jack Crawford states to you before mentioning something to Will that you couldn't quite hear…

He drags another chair from the corner of the room and places it next to Mr. Graham. You sit down in the chair opposite Mr Graham, and the peculiar man takes his seat next to him.

Mr graham glares up at you from the paper, but there's no malice in it at all he's trying to seem intimidating…and it's not working at all because, for once, I can see right through him.

“This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter”

Mr Graham gestures to the peculiar man next to him, who is Dr. Lecter. He nods in return as he smiles at you.

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔.

“Have you ever done a psychological evaluation-?..”

Dr Lecter says, observing you with sharp eyes, his fingers interlocked on the table.

You couldn't read a lot about their emotions but you could tell that Mr Graham was anxious for some reason..just a smidge behind his crystal gaze..

“No, I haven't..why”

You say quietly. Then it hits you, usually everyone attending Will Graham's criminal psychology class has a psych eval before just to check their mental health is ok and they don't have any unmentioned ‘dark urges’ You never did it, you somehow skipped your way around it…not that you would have any reason to you just didn't want anyone else inside your brain trying to decipher the unknown code that you are. You didn't want anyone to know you 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

“We have referred you to Dr. Lecter. We looked at your report and noticed that you never did the… psych eval-..”

Mr graham says flicking through the pages, weaving a hand through his curly locks

“Most students attending criminal psychology have some sort of…therapy..just in case”

He says, shutting the book and interlocking his fingers like Dr. Lecter was.. you thought it looked kind of funny.

His eyes flick up to yours again as if to check you were still listening..unlike Dr Lecter's cold gaze, Mr Grahams did have something in there..you just couldn't quite figure it out yet. The way his pupils dilated slightly every time he looked up at you. It almost went unnoticed, but not to you.

“Why don't we start next Friday -----?”

You had not heard your name spoken throughout the entire conversation so it flipped like a switch in your brain. Now you were listening.

“I don't see why not-?”

You say, praying that Dr Lecter wouldn't somehow squeeze the murder, you orchestrated it out of you and stuck it together like puzzle pieces to figure out what you did…

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GOD. still the funniest transition in the show bar none

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Wouldn't you like to know weatherboy

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[hannigramizcannon]

why did I think your PFP was Putin wearing a wig at first...I love your fanfics though, I'm not part of the fandom but I really like ur writing style

Omg thats so funny lol tysm i just started writing this means sm to me 🙏🙏🙏

[hannigramizcannon]

The evil you created

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: influenced by the Chesapeake Ripper murders you go on to take a stab at one yourself to get your professor's attention

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐!: mention of mildly graphic murder a pinch of fluff ♡︎♡︎

𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊-!: please tell me if you want part 2 I think it is bad but I wanna hear your opinions ♡︎♡︎♡︎ it looks short but I'm splitting it up into pieces ♡︎♡︎

It's a cold October evening. Trees scrape against the windows, shaking about nothing compared to the warm, dark, gruesome atmosphere of the class of criminal psychology that you just so happened to take. You didn't know why you took it really or what drew you to the class; you wanted to be an architect (boring, I know, but the job pays bills). Maybe it was the twisted crimes the Chesapeake Ripper presented that drew you to the dark subject but you never really were driven to that sort of thing. Perhaps it was something to do to get your brain focused. Most of the images shown on the large projector could be intriguing and shocking- they get your brain working, and they seem to jump-start it like a defibrillator. But you never pondered on why. Until you did it, 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡…

You walked down that road with full intention of what was going to happen..and you still did it. You killed a man with a screwdriver, strapped him to a wheelchair, set fire to it and pushed it down old courthouse road near your professor lived 𝑁𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑠…𝑚𝑎𝑏𝑦𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤.

You checked his wallet. Inside it was an ID, some cash, etc; you were never really the stealing type, so you left it, but the name did catch your eye. Frederick Chilton was a strange name for a normal-looking person. Other than the crippling guilt you felt after you awaited your next criminal psychology with anticipation, who knows I might even feature in a tattle crime paper.

The classroom is chilled today; You're glad you brought that extra jumper. but some things are off..you take your seat close to the front in the dimly lit hall (. you do wonder if they do it on purpose),  you pull out your pen and pad at the ready. 

Mr graham looks tired today.

Extra tired.

More tired than usual tired...

He has dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is messy. He clicks around on his Dell computer. He smells of that comforting instant coffee smell he usually does. But it's not doing much. You're anxious.

You pull out your laptop as well, setting your pen and pad aside for a moment.

People come in small groups and couples, as usual, sitting down and dispersing

 

You take the time to look at Mr graham. He's getting his slides ready, his glasses on, looking around the screen quickly before his eyes meet yours abruptly. You look away slightly embarrassed. With a dose of something else…

He stands up as the lights dim even more with the control of a button 

𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒊𝒕? 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆? 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆..

An image flicks onto the scene as someone gasps behind you; your paranoia is so high you almost thought they said your name.

Mr. Graham paces letting the class absorb the image for a moment before proceeding

“This happened two nights ago on old courthouse road-...”

He speaks as he comes to a halt from pacing and gestures.“This is not the work of the Chesapeake Ripper this is someone else”

His eyes scatter across the room before falling on you

he.doesn't.know.dont.worry

You look away as he clicks another slide

as you look up, you cough and look back down, melted skin to a wheelchair.

You can feel his gaze on you for a second, but maybe it was just the cough. “The man's name is Fredrick Chilton. His ID was found at the crime scene open.”

Your eyes snap up at him. You swear you can feel a bead of sweat rolling down your head. The truth is probably seeping out of you like a puncture wound, and Will Graham is the bloodhound… he's an FBI agent. What are you thinking…

He flicks to another image your heart almost drops..your pen certainly does..right out of your hand..onto the floor.

You pick it up quickly putting it on the table 

Will flick quickly down at the pen and then up at you before continuing, but just as he's about to, the doors open, and two men walk in.

One you did recognise was Jack Crawford, head of the behavioural science unit. The other you didn't quite recognise.

There were a few murmurs from the class and leaning over desks to see what was happening 

“This lesson is over!”

Jack shouts before communicating with Will about something

Some people groan, annoyed, as they begin packing up their stuff you keep your head down, looking at my pen.

“Will’s eyes scan the room... then, unexpectedly, they lock with yours and you break contact immediately.”

You look at the other man beside Jack Crawford; he has peculiar features and seems to be well-dressed. You pack your things up carelessly, throwing them into your bag other than the computer which you carefully zipped back into the laptop case.

You can hear footsteps approaching you. Your senses instantly heighten as soon as you smell that familiar aroma...

“Excuse me-?”

you look up eyes locked

“Can I talk to you outside for a moment-?”

shit.shit.shit

You look behind you for a moment at Jack Crawford and the peculiar man, who are both looking in your direction and seem to be waiting for you….

“dont worry it's nothing bad”

Mr. Graham smiles at you assuringly, his hands in his pockets. For a man who rarely smiled, I thought he looked quite nice…

[hannigramizcannon]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚑 ☠︎︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚋𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜!: 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 ♡︎

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊: 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝-! 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝚡 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒!𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛 (𝚒 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚙 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚘....𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚐 ♡︎ 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢)

☠︎︎☠︎︎☠︎︎

I dig my fingernails into my clothed leg to keep back hisses and mutters of pain I was meant to be cold and stoic I have to keep that demeanour the wound burns like a spear to the heart the arrow hurts going in and tears more flesh away as it caves its way out I look up at the mahogany wooden ceiling

they pierce through my eyes like daggers and needles yet despite the excruciating pain I feel as if I'm floating I feel bliss so beautiful it could make a grown man cry I feel like a galaxy, like a supernova like stardust yet im weighted to kitchen island table by gravity this feeling is perfect. The exhilaration of falling, knowing death is below you, is a feeling I will crave forevermore. Will's icy blues blacked out by his dilated pupils, yet he seemed so calm. As he fell like a blackbird, The sight will forever be burnt into my retinas. I never figured I would survive. And I knew one thing for sure: I was meant to die tonight. Will is avoiding any type of contact other than the needle driving in and out of my skin and a few mumbles. The sound of his heavy breathing seems to fill the room like the wave's gentle shore. I look down at him with a newfound emotion. His expression is pale as usual. Stoic his dark woven locks painting his face. His eyes flicker around the same area with precision he's focused; he doesn't exactly want to hurt me. Or so I think. With his recent murder fantasies, I wouldn't be surprised. Dark circles dig under his eyes. Metal utensils clutter the desk breaking my thoughts. "how do you feel will"

I ask, breaking the thick silence and slicing through it like a scalpel." how do I feel -!?"

He scoffs, shaking his head with that angry, ironic smirk on his face as usual "I'm fine, Hannibal-..perfect" he moves over to the sink, washing the stained blood off of his hands. Scrubbing vigorously like he had touched some disgusting vermin. I sit up clutching my new would gently. I should have died tonight.