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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

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And the Woman Clothed in Sun

3x10

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, pregnancy

Author’s Note: I am half asleep. I really hope this makes sense. This is short too which super sucks but there was a lot fo Francis in this episode that I cut out because thats boring because the reader isn’t in it lmao

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: Carving retrieved from crime scenes help Will and the FBI learn about Francis Dolarhyde's psychology; Dolarhyde finds a way to communicate with Hannibal.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif)

You stared down at the bathroom counter. You looked back up at yourself in the mirror and took a long, deep breath. This wasn’t ideal. This was not ideal. You didn’t want this right now, you didn’t need it right now.

Will had gone out to get you breakfast and you wanted to test the suspicion you had picked up the night before. Will had been talking about children and it got your mind reeling. You got up early to get a pregnancy test, just to try it, just in case.

The face staring back at you in the mirror was scared. She wasn’t easily scared. She just wasn’t ready to be a mother. You turned on the faucet and splashed some water in your face.

At the sound of the door opening you quickly grabbed the two pregnancy tests you had taken and shoved them in your purse that was sitting on the counter. You forced your nerves away. You weren’t ready for Will to know this quite yet, especially not after last night and his nightmares.

“Coffee,” he called, holding up a bag of food and tray of coffee cups.

“You’re a godsend Will Graham.”

“I do what I can.”

Francis Dolarhyde sat at Hannibal’s desk. The desk must have held many memories when it came to the killer. Francis was amazed that he was there, Hannibal on the phone with him. He had never really actually thought they would talk to each other. And yet, here he was.

“I have admired you for years and have a complete collection of your press notices. Actually, I think of them as unfair reviews,” Francis said. He looked in front of him at the office. He imagined himself sitting there, across from Hannibal, like a patient.

“As unfair as yours?” Hannibal thought about how to angle this. “They like to sling demeaning nicknames, don’t they?”

“The Tooth Fairy,” Francis sneered.

“What could be more inappropriate?” Hannibal questioned.

“It would shame me for you to see that, if I didn’t know you suffered the same distortions in the press.”

“It happens to the best of us,” Hannibal promised. Francis thought about this. The clippings he had read and re-read of Hannibal always mentioned the Grahams. The Bloody Valentines.

“Yes, I suppose it has to.”

“I don’t think I’ve been here since you last taught,” you whispered. You stood outside one of the FBI’s lecture rooms with Will. You could hear the echo of Bedelias voice inside.

“You had to bring that up,” Will muttered with a fond remembrance of a smile. “Hey, I used to love your lectures. They were interesting.”

“You liked to tease me as much as you could,” he argued. You shrugged.

“I thought it added to the entertainment. Come on.”

The two of you walked into the room together. It was packed but Bedelia was about to be finished. You had planned to come and see her when she would be alone but catching the tail end of her Hannibal lecture was alright too.

“Days and evenings again, the smell of fresh flowers and the vague awareness of a needle bleeding into me. Hannibal always stood at a distance, very still. There were days of talk. He never called me my name.” She recognized you and Will as you stepped into the room. She moved slowly around her podium. “It was strange at first, and then it wasn’t strange. And then my name was Lydia Fell. Deeply-felt truths of who I am as bedelia Du Maurier were smoke and mirrors of the highest order.”

You and Will stepped into the crowd and sat down. Bedelia walked over to you and the audience followed her, ears engulfing what she was saying.

“What we take for granted about our sense of self, everything we see, everything we remember, is nothing more than a construct of the mind.” Will eyed her with an uneasy mix of skepticism and sympathy. “Dante was the first to conceive of hell as a planned place. An urban environment. Before Dante, we spoke not of the ‘Gates of Hell’, but the ‘Mouth of Hell’. My journey of damnation began when I was swallowed by the beast.”

The class wrapped up quickly and the rest of the room emptied. You and Will stood up and waited for them to leave. Eventually, when they were gone, Will spoke. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his glasses laid perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

“Poor Dr. Du Maurier, swallowed whole. Suffering inside Hannibal Lecter’s bowels for what must have felt like an eternity.” You smiled smugly at his words. “You didn’t lose yourself, Bedelia, you just crawled so far up his ass you couldn’t be bothered.”

“Hello Grahams.”

“You hitched your star to a man commonly known as a monster,” you said with that same smile.

“You’re the Bride of Frankenstein,” Will said. Bedelia looked at you, eyeing you carefully.

“We’ve all been his bride,” she said and ignored the thoughts creeping up to her.

“How did you manage to walk away unscarred? We’re covered with scars,” Will said. Bedelia still dodged the question completely because she knew how and you knew how. It was becoming increasingly clear that you had not told Will about how Hannibal actually saw Bedelia in Florence.

“I wasn’t myself. You were. Even when you weren’t, you were Will.”

“I wasn’t wearing adequate armor.”

“No. You were naked,” she said. “Have you been to see him?” You and Will shared a look.

“Yes,” you answered.

“Haven't’ learned anything, have you? Or did you just miss him that much?”

Bedelia’s home office was strangely homey. You hadn’t expected that kind of thing from her, considering how stoic you read her to be on occasions. You weren’t sure how you felt about it. But Will had insisted that you come along. The last time he talked to a therapist by himself it ended up in more murders than he had planned.

“If he does end up eating you, Bedelia, you’d have it coming,” Will said.

“I can’t blame him for doing what evolution has equipped him to do,” she argued.

“If we just do whatever evolution equipped us to do, then murder and cannibalism are morally acceptable,” you said .

“They are acceptable. To murderers and cannibals. And you two,” she mused.

“And you,” Will shot back. “You lied, Bedelia. You do that a lot. Why do you do that a lot?” he asked. She and you shared a look.

“I obfuscate. Hannibal was never not my patient. Covert treatment suffers secrecy and disapproval,” she said. You shook your head lightly.

“You lied in your lecture. To others. You lied to the police,” you said. She and you stared at each other and that was the first moment that Will understood there was something he didn’t actually know. He looked between the two of you.

“My relationship with Hannibal isn’t as passionate as yours,” she said. “Did you ever discuss why I’m alive?” she asked at you. You and Hannibal had only talked about it once, in front of the painting back in Florence. Will had been so wrapped up in his head then that he didn’t even register it as something he should have noted.

“You tell those people that you believed you were Lydia Fell which is a lie in and of itself. But then you let Will believe that you just were out of dodge because Hannibal liked you. But that’s not true is it?” you asked. She pursed her lips. You stared so intently at each other that Will felt as though he wasn’t even there.

“You know how I lived because I wasn’t the first woman that Hannibal imagined as you,” she said. You raised your chin and gave her an amusing look.

“Bedelia Du Maurier, Alana Bloom…,” you whispered. Will was picking up the hints now. He understood now. “He needed companionship.”

“No, he needed you,” she argued. “But he could never have you because you were Will’s and he cared far too much for Will to take you. Do you realize the extent of your reach?” You surpressed your pride.

“Why don’t you tell me?” you challenged.

“I used to wash his hair when he came home, drenched in blood. He whispered your name when he forgot who I was. Can you imagine, having so much hold over a person who is usually so contained? I was amazed. From a professional standpoint, I was amazed.” She glanced at Will who was hearing all of this for the first time. “He used to bring people over for dinner and when he killed a man he asked if I wanted to participate, knowing I wouldn’t but knowing you would.”

Bedelia smiled gently.

“It’s a good thing that you married each other. Hannibal’s place things, linked for life.” She looked over at Will. “You couldn’t save him. Do you think you can save this new one?”

You and Will sat in the car together in the parking lot of the hospital Hannibal was being held at. You had been quiet the whole way there.

“You knew about all of that? All of what Bedelia was saying?” he asked. He looked over at you but you looked only forward.

“I figured most of it. I knew he dated Alana to spite me, he told me once when you were in jail that Alana was easier to sleep with.” You scoffed. “But I only ever thought about it in correlation to Bedelia. I knew she was lying all around,” you whispered. Finally, you looked over at him.

“Should you stay in the car?” he asked. You shook your head.

“That was ages ago,” you promised. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I have to think about it because I can’t knowingly take my wife to go talk to the man who fantasized about being with her for practically two years,” he said calmly.

“What’s he gonna do in the cage Will?”

He thought about this for a moment. He went to open the door but you grabbed his hand. He looked over at you quickly and noticed you seemed to be holding something back. That irked him.

“What else have you not told me?” You looked over at him and wondered if you should tell him. You had to tell him. You wanted him to know. You needed him to know so that he could help you. You grabbed your purse and fished out the pregnancy test before handing it to him.

It took him a moment. He looked down at it and his brain, usually so quick, did not realize what that small pink symbol meant. Then it all came at him. Slowly, he looked up at you.

“Are you messing with me?”

“No,” you said nervously. He was quiet. “Well?” He looked up at you and read your worry. He had made you nervous and it made him feel bad. He wasn’t nervous about being a parent with you he was nervous about the baby.

“Oh my gosh,” he said and a smile creeped onto his face.

“You don’t hate it?”

“No! Not at all? I mean...” he trailed off and there were the nerves again but you grabbed his hand and held it.

“We’ll take it one day at a time.” He took your hand and kissed your palm gently, shaking a bit. He was going to be a father. Him. He was amazed.

“Well now I’m defiantly not letting you come with me.”

“I’m not going to tell Hannibal. Not yet anyway. It would look suspicious. Come on.”

Will stood in front of the cage, just inches from Hannibal. You stood right beside them, leaning against the glass.

“Are you familiar with William Blake’s The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun? Blake’s Dragon stands over a pleading woman caught in the coil of its tail. Few images in Western art radiate such a unique and nightmarish charge of demonic sexuality,” Hannibal said, holding the crime scene photos.

“The man who killed the Jacobis and the Leedses saw something in them that drew him and drove him to do it. He chose them because something in them spoke to him,” Will said.

“The Jacobis were the first to help him, the first to lift him into the Glory of his Becoming. The Jacbois were better than anything he knew,” Hannibal explained.

“Until the Leedses,” you muttered.

“As the Dragon grows in strength and Glory, there are families to come.”

“I have to believe there is a common factor and we’ll find it soon,” Will said steadily.

“Otherwise you have to enter more houses and see what the Dragon has left for you. Eleven days to the next full moon. Tick-tock.” Hannibal looked over at you. “I like this Dragon. I don’t think he’s crazy at all. I think he may be quite sane.”

“I think that your opinion on his sanity is subjective,” you said.

You and Will walked into the museum together, up to where they kept the important painting.

“This way, Mr. and Mrs. Graham. You know, you’re the second group who’s asked to see the Blake today,” the tour guide said steadily. You stiffened and Will gave you a look. He took his glasses off slowly and you took them from him, putting them in the case you were holding in your jacket.

As you reached the level where the painting was you grew unsettled.

Will grabbed your arm. He had seen something that you hadn’t and now that you were two, he had extra reasons to be paying attention to it all. You turned around and the tour guide left the room to go find his colleague. The elevator was still open and Will pushed you gently out of the way.

Before you could protest, Will caught the closing elevator door. There was a moment of silence as the man in the elevator stared at Will and then he attacked him, shoving him to the ground.

You rushed to Will first who was pointing eagerly at the elevator but before you were able to stop it it closed.

“Are you okay?” you asked quickly.

“Yes, downstairs,” he said even quicker. You and him got up and rushed downstairs but by the time you reached the final flour, he was gone.

3x11

#will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter imagines #will graham imagines #hannibal imagines

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meteora-writes · 4 years

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We Could Be Perfect One Last Night

Fandom: Hannibal Pairing: Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter Warnings: Blood, Description of Gunshot and Stab Wounds, Hypothermia, Breaking and Entering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Injury Recovery Description: The water is freezing. Sucking the very life out of him as Hannibal swims to the surface. He sees Will close by, unconscious, and goes to him. Wraps an arm around him and begins to swim to the best of his abilities towards the shore. He's not sure he can make it. Weak from bloodless and the fight with Francis Dolarhyde. But he's going to try. Chapter: 1 - Die Like Star-crossed Lovers Authors Notes: So I finished the show and the muses popped up in my head screaming at me to write this so that’s what I did instead of sleeping the other night. Fic and Chapter titles come from the song Our Lady Of Sorrows by MCR. Read on AO3

~~~~~

Jack Crawford is the first agent on the scene.

He had expected the blood. The broken glass. The signs of a difficult struggle.

What he hadn’t expected was to find only a single corpse waiting for him when he arrived at Hannibal Lecter’s hidden little home by the sea.

Francis Dolarhyde lays torn and bloodied in the center of the little courtyard that stands between the back of the house from the cliff’s edge. Blood pooled around him like great terrible wings spread in flight. It only holds his attention for a moment before he continues his search for who he’s really interested in finding now that he knows the Dragon is dead.

“WILL! WILL CAN YOU HEAR ME?” he yells into the night, hoping the other man is still close by. The pool of blood surrounding Dolarhyde is already looking as though it’s frozen solid to the ground. It’s been a particularly cold night, and the wind off the ocean is amplifying its effects. Meaning he has no idea how long it’s been since Dolarhyde was killed. It could have been twenty minutes, or two hours ago for all he knows without more information from the forensics team.

Quick footsteps alert Jack of the other agents approaching from all sides. “Fan out! I want people searching the woods and the beaches nearby. And get an ambulance here, now. Both Graham and Lecter are likely injured and will require medical attention when we find them!” he orders as he follows thick trails of blood as well as a few bloodied shoe prints to the edge of the cliff. He looks down, shining a flashlight for a little extra illumination along with that provided by the slowly setting full moon. There’s no sign of any bodies in the water below, or on the rocks along the foot of the cliff that are peeking up from the water as the tide moves out. So that’s something at least.

“Sir, the dash-cam of the squad car was left recording this whole time,” an agent says as they approach from inside the house with cautious steps, trying not to disturb the scene of broken glass and bloody carpet.

“And?” Jack glances back at him, waiting for the agent to elaborate on the importance of that information.

“We’re pulling the footage now. The car had been positioned to get a full view of the house on camera. If they left on foot we’ll have an idea as to which way they went at the very least.” The agent looks nervous, knowing the alternative to leaving would be falling from the cliff into the freezing water below. This time of year that’s most definitely a death sentence. And with blood loss and possibly severe injuries on top of the freezing cold? A man wouldn’t stand a chance.

Jack nods his understanding and holsters his gun at last as he looks again at the blood that’s covering the ground. Streaks and pools of it cover the spacious courtyard. More than could have come from Dolarhyde alone if he had to guess. He definitely injured Will and Hannibal in their struggle. The question is, was it fatal for them as well, or only Dolarhyde?

~~~~~

Hannibal gasps for breath as he finally feels sand beneath his feet.

The water is so bitterly cold that he can barely feel his own body, let alone Will’s where he drags it with him through the churning waves of stinging saltwater.

Will went unconscious as they feel from the cliff. Maybe even before that. Hannibal isn’t quite sure. What he is sure of, is that the nearest house is still half a mile down the beach from where they’ve come ashore. And FBI agents will be arriving at his beach-side home sooner than later most likely, leaving no time to waste.

With a pained hiss, he pulls Will’s prone form onto the shore with him. Laying him out in the frigid night air a moment before mustering what strength he can in his sluggishly numb extremities and hauling him up into a carry with much more difficulty than he cares to admit to himself. Then, he walks, Will’s head tucked under his chin in a way that lets the blood still flowing from his mouth run down and be absorbed by their clothes. Keeping him from choking on it.

The waterfront homes in the area are empty along this particular stretch of the Chesapeake this time of year. It is both a boon and a curse upon their fortunes, as the odds of them getting away are contingent on what he finds in the nearest dwelling.

Turning his head, Hannibal can see the cliff that his old summer home sits upon. Sees the faint light that comes from the courtyard to cast out into the dark bluish-black of the night. The breeze picks up, sending an uncontrollable shiver through him, and he turns away to continue the difficult trudge through the sand. Will is heavy in his arms. Breathing shallowly as he too shivers almost violently from the harsh bite of winter, it’s effects no doubt amplified by blood loss.

The cottage they come to is smaller than his own. Tucked back into trees that block it from the view of his own dwelling less than a mile away. There are wooden lounge chairs set out in the back yard where it faces the water, and he rests Will on his side on one before searching for a key or some other means of entering the dwelling with as little disturbance to their surroundings as possible. He would prefer not to break anything if at all possible. Too likely to draw attention if any agents wander through searching for them.

The moonlight makes his search easier than expected, as it gleams off the shiny metal of a hidden key tucked under the rocking chair he tips over by the front door. Taking care, he rips off a piece of cloth from his ruined shirt and uses it to take the key and unlock the door.

To his surprise, the electricity is on when he tries the light switch. He grabs Will from the cold of the outside and lays him down on the sheet-covered couch before he moves to turn on just enough lights to see by without making it obvious someone is in the home to any passersby. \

He finds the door to the furnace, thankful it’s a simple electric one with a power switch. He gets that running before going to retrieve Will from where he set him on the couch.

They’re both hypothermic. Soaked to the bone with their clothes frozen to their skin in places thanks to the harsh bite of the ocean breeze. And worse yet, they’re both still bleeding sluggish from their wounds.

So, Hannibal does the rational thing to help them both warm up quickly. He finds towels and what clean clothes he can that might fit either of them. Once they’re gathered, and with increasing difficulty, he picks Will up once again and sets him in the tub before turning on the shower as hot as it will go.

Will doesn’t so much as flinch at the feel of the almost scalding spray hitting him. Body still shaking from the cold in his unconscious state. Hannibal watches him a moment before kicking off his shoes and picking him up just enough to climb into the tub behind him.

It’s uncomfortable at best. Too small a space for two men of their size to really fit together. But discomfort is worth it as the warmth quickly starts to seep into both of their extremities. It burns fiercely as it does so. Nerves flaring back to life where they had been shut down from the cold in the on-setting hypothermia.

Hannibal finds he somewhat likes the sensation. It distracts him ever so slightly from the pain in his side where the bullet went clean through him. And from his worries for Will, whom he now holds a cloth to the face of to staunch the bleeding where he had been stabbed just below his right eye. The blade clearly went in at an angle. Going through the bones and down to come out the roof of his mouth.

They stay in the all-consuming warmth of the water until Will’s shivering completely stops and the room fills with so much steam that breathing becomes almost difficult.

That’s when Hannibal finally reaches out and shuts off the spray, much to the protest of his aching body. He wants more than anything to simply close his eyes and join Will in unconsciousness. But that would be foolish. And likely deadly to one, if not both, of them.

He leaves Will in the tub, curled on his side with his head propped on the edge, and drags himself out onto the cool tiled floor. His capability for focus and rational thought is dwindling. He knows he needs to act quickly. They’ve both lost far too much blood and need more than just a few cloths pressed to the wounds to stop the flow.

There’s a sewing kit in the small linen closet next to the bathroom door. That along with the first aid kit from under the sink provide him just enough supplies for what he needs.

He strips Will of his sodden clothes first. Assessing the wound on his shoulder as well as the one in his mouth. He doesn’t have the tools needed to close that one. But he has enough gauze to pack the side of Will’s mouth for now. He does so and then stitches his cheek quickly and efficiently before moving on to his shoulder.

When he’s done he does the same with himself. The entrance wound on his back is clearly one he can’t stitch himself, the angle is just too difficult even for someone uninjured to attempt, but the exit wound on his abdomen is one he can close himself. He does his best to apply a makeshift pressure bandage to his back before wrapping an ace bandage around his waist tightly. When Will wakes later he can talk him through stitching the wound on his back, but for now, the bandage will have to do.

Glancing down at Will from his place seated on the edge of the tub, Hannibal wonders if he will try to kill him upon waking. If he’ll try to turn him over to Jack Crawford like he’s planned to in the past. Based on how the evening turned, he doesn’t see that as likely. Not after the way Will looked at him. Held him close as they both stood soaked in blood in the brilliant moonlight.

He doesn’t dwell on that train of thought long. His body feels heavy with exhaustion. So he gets changed into a dry shirt and a pair of slacks he found before hauling Will out onto a towel on the bathroom floor. He would rather take him into one of the bedrooms, give him a more comfortable place to rest, but it’s just too difficult to move him any further. So he gets Will dried off as best he can before getting him into a soft t-shit and worn jeans that are a hair too big for him.

Feeling the last of his energy leaving him quickly, Hannibal drags himself over to the linen closet once more, pulls out a thick blanket he finds there, and drags it back over to Will. He shows no sign of waking any time soon, so he might as well try to make him comfortable here. If not for Will’s take then his own.

Hannibal does his best to get Will covered in the heavy duvet, his head resting on a towel as a makeshift pillow.

With a small smile at what he’s managed to accomplish despite his own injuries dragging him down, he collapses beside Will a moment later, one hand still holding the blanket as the world goes dark and unconsciousness takes him.

Read Chapter 2

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal x will #will x hannibal #will graham x hannibal lecter #Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham #angst #fluff #post canon #blood #hannibal lecter #will graham #murder husbands #we could be perfect one last night

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deservedboth · 4 years

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uploading data … ⟳ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 !

* ; ─ the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of HUGH DANCY - but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of FALLING OFF THE CLIFF strikes you. perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself - you’re WILLIAM “WILL” GRAHAM, a FOURTY YEAR OLD FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY PROFESSOR whose virtue lies in your + INTELLIGENCE & + INTUITION, although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - VENGEFUL & - RUTHLESS, and you’re associated with GOLDEN PENDULUMS, WAVES CRASHING, MOONLIT CRIMSON by those around you. suddenly, however, you’ve found YOUR RED FISHING LURE on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse, memories from your life in HANNIBAL have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you. you can almost hear BLOODSTREAM by STATELESS following in your wake. ( he/him & demi male )

tws: blood, abandonment, murder, death

ALUCARD ---- much of his childhood was the same, except no longer did he live in louisiana in his memories. he lived in alucard for his whole life as he recalls, even going onto take over his childhood home. he used to be a cop for the force but became a professor teaching forensic psychology after a case gone wrong. he continues to help them out though, working as a consultant on difficult to solve cases. he’s still fully aware of his empathy disorder and tries to remain distant, keeping a mental shield, in order to avoid seeing too much.

THINGS TO NOTE ----

will is demi male, his pronouns are he / him.

will is bisexual.

wanted connection ? click the source !

CANON ---- born in the poorest parts of louisiana, his father worked fixing boats, and his mother had left before she had curated any stable enough memories for him to grasp. he followed his father from place to place in louisiana before eventually moving to new orleans. in new orleans, he became a homicide detective for the police force, but he couldn’t pull the trigger. he left new orleans to attend george washington university in forensic science and became a professor at the fbi academy. will has an empathy disorder, allowing him to empathise with anyone. burdened with too many mirror neurons and an extreme imagination ; through an exploration of the evidence as well as his empathic nature, this allows him to mentally place himself in the positions of serial killers. he was brought in by special agent jack crawford to hunt down a serial killer and met a well - known consulting psychologist, hannibal lecter. will goes to therapy with hannibal to ensure he has someone to pull him back from the dark places he’s thrust into, but what starts as something akin to friendship turns into acts of betrayal, murder, sacrifice and protection as both of them begin to manipulate each other. down the rabbit hole they both go, them both changing each other with will finding righteousness, justice, in wrath ; in doing bad things to bad people. eventually, it all comes to head when will and hannibal kill serial killer, francis dolarhyde, together. not in horror of the act, but in horror of the enjoyment of the action – will pulls them both off a cliff.

TAG DIRECTORY ----

i. alone in that darkness / abt. about.

i. this is my design / beg. starters.

i. if you can’t beat god / vis. visuals.

i. like somebody else / ism. musings.

i. this is my becoming / int. interactions.

i. then i felt powerful / aes. aesthetics.

i. scales have fallen away / sol. solos.

i. use a good scream / ask. ask responses.

i. what’s important in my life / dyn. alucard family values.

i. somebody you cherished / dyn. will graham & schrodinger’s daughter, abigail hobbs.

i. you and i have begun to blur / dyn. the conscious loss of one’s self for another, will graham & hannibal lecter.

#duality.intro #i. alone in that darkness / abt.#i. this is my design / beg.#i. if you can’t beat god / vis.#i. like somebody else / ism.#i. this is my becoming / int.#i. then i felt powerful / aes.#i. scales have fallen away / sol.#i. use a good scream / ask.#i. what’s important in my life / dyn.#i. somebody you cherished / dyn.#i. you and i have begun to blur / dyn.#tags.

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

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1046.

Do you ever find yourself worrying about things that probably won't happen? >> The thing is, the things I worry about are things that can happen. I know because I’ve already experienced those things happening. It’s the likelihood of the thing happening that may or may not be skewed in my imagination, not the thing itself.

Has your imagination ever made it hard for you to sleep? >> I don’t think so.

Have you ever had a weird dream and obsessed over what it might mean? >> I’ve had plenty of weird dreams, but I didn’t obsess over their possible meaning.

Or do you usually forget about your dreams? >> Nowadays, yeah, I don’t remember my dreams too consistently.

Do you know your heritage? If not, would you ever try one of those DNA kits? >> I know enough, I suppose. I would definitely not do one of those DNA kits, for multiple reasons.

Which languages can you speak? >> Only English with any fluency.

Which language do you speak the most and why? >> ---

Which languages do you wish you were fluent in? >> ---

With films in languages you do not speak, do you prefer a dub or subtitles? >> I greatly prefer subs. I like listening to different languages. Plus, I find that a lot of the times, the dub actors don’t match up well in my opinion.

Which cuisine do you like the least? >> ---

Are there any foods you dislike because of the texture? >> Absolutely.

Which type of chocolate do you like best? >> I only eat dark chocolate.

Do you have a favorite kind of dog? >> Pit bulls, I guess, but I really just like dogs period.

Do you let your pets sleep in your bed? >> I would not.

Do any of your favorite musicians ever write music for/with other artists? >> I mean, probably.

What is your favorite collaboration between two different musicians? >> I can’t think of a favourite collaboration.

Who are your favorite songwriters? >> I don’t have any.

Do you like any of those oldies groups (like the Four Seasons)? >> Yep. I grew up listening to them and I still love a lot of that music.

Do you know who Bernie Taupin is? >> He writes with Elton John, don’t he? They’re associated somehow, anyway.

What are your favorite one-hit wonders? >> Meh.

What celebrities, if any, have you seen naked? >> I mean, whichever ones did nude scenes in movies I’ve seen.

Have you ever seen anybody naked by accident? >> Not necessarily by accident, just... not by my consent. Living in shelters, you see a lot you don’t necessarily want to see.

Have you ever wondered what somebody looks like naked? >> In an idly musing sense, sure.

Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about a celebrity? >> When I was younger.

Have you ever changed your clothes in the car? >> I don’t think so, but maybe.

About how quickly does your hair grow? >> Too quickly for my liking, considering how often I have to buzz it.

Do you have to/choose to shave anything unusual? >> No.

Do you groom (wax, pluck, or thread) your eyebrows? >> No.

Most unusual thing you have worn in public? >> I don’t know?

If you wear makeup, what are your preferred brands? >> I don’t have any preferred brands.

Do you use flavored lip balm? What about tinted lip balm? >> Nope, just regular coconut-oil lip balm, thanks.

What is your favorite swear word? >> ---

Are you afraid of fireworks or other loud noises? >> I’m not afraid of them, I just have sensory issues and an exaggerated startle reflex. My responses are similar to fear responses, though, so it’s all the same shit at the end of the day, I guess.

Do you make your own iced tea, or buy it in jugs/bottles? >> I buy bottled iced tea.

Have you ever made sun tea? >> No.

Do you use sugar or honey to sweeten your tea? >> I use honey sometimes, but most of the time I drink it as-is.

Do you ever put milk in your tea? >> Not usually. It’s good in chai, but I just never think about it.

Do you prefer powdered or liquid coffee creamer? >> ---

Did your school have somewhere for girls to get emergency pads/tampons? >> ---

Did you have to wear a uniform for gym class? >> ---

Did you have to take showers after gym before going to your next class? >> ---

Were you in any extracurricular activities or clubs in high school? >> ---

Have you ever picked up and kept a rock because it caught your eye? >> Yeah.

Have you attended any rock (literal rocks, not music, lol) shows? >> No.

Have you ever laughed at a scene (TV/film) that wasn't meant to be funny? >> Oh, absolutely.

Do you think they should make a movie about Hatshepsut? >> I don’t have an opinion on this.

Do you think books are better adapted as movies or TV series? >> I think TV series are better if you want to actually delve into more of the book’s content.

Any great books you would recommend? >> ---

Any great movies or TV series you would recommend? >> ---

Were you disappointed with Fox's version of the Rocky Horror Show? >> I don’t care about Rocky Horror.

Have you ever seen the original Kinky Boots movie? What about the musical? >> Never seen either.

Have you seen any Hannibal movies other than The Silence of the Lambs? >> I’ve seen Red Dragon, Hannibal, and Hannibal Rising.

Have you read any of the Hannibal novels? >> Not yet. I’ve considered reading Red Dragon, since Francis Dolarhyde is my fave, but eh. Maybe one day.

Do you like any Indie movies? >> I mean, yes.

Have there been any movies you had fond memories of, but upon a rewatch didn't like as well? >> Absolutely. Tastes and needs evolve over time.

Do you like to go to the movies alone? >> I do, I love it. I especially love it when I go to a weekday matinee a couple of weeks after a movie’s premiere and the theater is empty of anyone save me. It’s the best feeling. I had so much fun watching Venom in an empty theater :)

When you watch movies/TV with people, do you find yourself making sarcastic remarks to each other? >> Well, that’d depend on the people, I guess. And what kind of mood I’m in. And what the movie/TV show even was.

Have you ever dried down any flowers to keep them? >> No.

What is your favorite thing that you have made by yourself? >> ---

Do you like your natural accent (everybody has one)? >> I’m fine with how I speak.

What accents do you find most pleasant? >> ---

Does it bother you when an actor in a musician biopic lip-syncs to a recording of the original artist, or is it better that way? >> I don’t have an opinion about this.

Have you ever read about Dennis Nilsen? >> No.

Do you ever go on murderpedia.org to read about murderers? >> No.

Have you ever read about the Black Dahlia? >> No.

Any other unsolved crimes you find fascinating? >> No, that’s not really something I’m interested in (although I don’t mind hearing other people talk about it).

Do you care what color your socks are? >> Of course I care.

What about your underwear? >> Yes. I won’t wear most colours of underwear.

What part of a man's body do you find most attractive? >> ---

What part of a woman's body do you find most attractive? >> ---

Do you think guys look good in makeup? >> ---

Do you like using clay and/or peel-off masks for skincare? >> I don’t use them. They mostly seem like sensory hell to me.

Have you ever had an asymmetrical haircut? >> I had a wig that was cut asymmetrically.

Have you ever made your own pillow or blanket? >> No.

Have you ever made a pillow out of an old T-shirt? >> No, but Sparrow has.

Have you ever tried lucid dreaming? (Where you can control your dreams) Would you ever want to try? >> I’ve not given it a serious attempt, no.

If you want to be cremated, do you want your ashes scattered anywhere? >> I don’t want to be cremated.

Would you ever have a deceased pet stuffed? >> No.

Would you ever have a pet cremated? >> No.

What is your favorite sci-fi series, if any? >> I have a few. The Stargates, for example.

Do you believe in the existence of parallel universes? >> Yep.

If you could run your own business, what kind of business would it be? >> I really would rather not.

#surveys #survey #random survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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mid0nz-archive · 4 years

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The Cannibal & the Consulting Criminal: How Silence and Sherlock Taught Me to Read

(I’m writing a series of autobiographical essays. This meta is a messy. messy warm up…)

PART I: TSotL The Odd Flash of Contextual Intelligence

Know your intertexts (and the limits of their influence)

I’ve spent a LOT of time writing about the influence of Harris on Mark Gatiss in particular. We have Harris to thank for Sherlock’s mind palace for starters. Moriarty and Dr. Lecter share many traits. Then again so do the psychiatrist and Sherlock. I’ll come back to these obvious connections between Sherlock and TSotL in a later part of this meta. (The connections are actually quite superficial.) For now I want to return to my first obsession: the genius cannibal who taught me how to read and the fandom that saved me from him.

Do your research.

Thomas Harris, author of The Silence of the Lambs, choses every word with great care. How many people, for example, do you know called Hannibal? Clarice is more common I suppose, but it’s certainly not a run-of-the-mill monicker. While starlings are the most common of birds have you ever met someone with that surname? Have you ever met a Lecter? What if I told you there is an extremely obscure historical figure called Hannibal the Starling? (You’ll find the reference in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology if you seek.) Would you think that Harris must have heard of that man? Possibly. Possibly. If I told you that Harris makes most of his characters’ names up– that they sound plausible enough, but unless you’re an everyman like a Jack Crawford or a Will Graham you’re a Francis Dolarhyde or an Ardelia Mapp.

Ardelia Mapp? In the novel Ardelia is Clarice Starling’s roommate at the FBI academy. When exams roll around and Clarice has been too busy hunting Buffalo Bill to read her textbooks, it’s Ardelia who makes sure that Clarice knows all about search and seizures. Adelia Mapp. Ardeila Mapp. What kind of name is that? It helps if we cram along with Clarice:

Mapp v. Ohio, 367 U.S. 643 (1961), was a landmark case in criminal procedure, in which the United States Supreme Court decided that evidence obtained in violation of the Fourth Amendment, which protects against “unreasonable searches and seizures”, may not be used in criminal prosecutions in state [or] federal courts. (x)

Hey Thomas Harris!

Recognize when there’s a joke and you’re not getting it.

Thomas Harris amuses himself with language. Clarice comes from the Latin root clar and the words related to pertain to brilliance and light and the illustrative. And Lecter? So many people have tried to trace its origins but all becomes clear when you think about its etymology. In Latin lector means reader.

Clarice’s boss, Jack Crawford, likes to quote impressive sounding things out of context. Dr. Lecter mocks him for picking and choosing passages of the Meditations of the Roman Emperor, Stoic philosopher, and persecutor of Christians, Marcus Aurelius.

“I’ve read the cases, Clarice, have you? Everything you need to know to find him is right there [in the case files], if you’re paying attention. Even Inspector Emeritus, Crawford should have figured it out. Incidentally, did you read Crawford’s stupefying speech last year to the National Police academy? Spouting Marcus Aurelius on duty and honor and fortitude— we’ll see what kind of a Stoic Crawford is when Bella [his wife] bites the big one. He copies his philosophy out of Bartlett’s Familiar, I think. If he understood Marcus Aurelius, he might solve this case.” “Tell me how.” “When you show the odd flash of contextual intelligence, I forget your generation can’t read, Clarice. The Emperor councils simplicity. First principles. Of each particular thing, ask: What is it in itself, in its own constitution? What is its causal nature?” “That doesn’t mean anything to me.” “What does he do, the man you want?”

I could go on and on about how Harris allows Dr. Lecter to reference Stoicism and all kinds of other ideas for his own amusement. I say amusement because the reader need not understand Dr. Lecter’s jokes to enjoy Harris’ books. Clarice doesn’t and she doesn’t pretend to. Oh how Dr. Lecter fancies his student! I could go on and on because the entire fucking book is a compendium of in-jokes. That in itself is Stoic food for thought. Diogenes Laertius recounts a Stoic idea that Harris likes to chew on.

“Some appearances are expert (technikai), others are inexpert; at any rate a picture is observed differently by an expert and the inexpert person.”

Julia Annas explains:

A non-expert will just see figures; the expert will see figures that represent gods. The expert is right— there really is that significance- and the non-expert is missing something. What is more surprising to us is the claim that the appearance is itself “expert.” The expert is not seeing anything that is not there for the ignoramus to see. It is the fault of the ignoramus that he fails to see what is to be seen, because he fails to understand the content of what is presents to him. (82) - Hellenistic Philosophy of Mind by Julia Annas

Lecter, the consummate reader, is the expert. Clarice, who’s not more than one generation from the mines, is the ignoramus. Yet she shows the odd flash of contextual intelligence.

Discern clues from NOISE.

Though their relationship was weird, close, and lasting Clarice would never realize that Dr. Lecter gave her everything she needed to know to catch Buffalo Bill the first time they met!

On that fateful day, with instructions from Jack Crawford to note anything and everything she sees, Clarice shows enough intelligence to asks Dr. Lecter about the drawings in his cell. Dr. Lecter replies:

It’s Florence. That’s the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo, seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?“

If Clarice were prepared "to read” Dr. Lecter’s work, she might have understood the significance of the image. She’s the very model of the Stoic ignoramus.

Clarice finds Buffalo Bill/Jame Gumb by recognizing his personal acquaintance with the first victim he skinned, Fredrica Bimmel. They both lived in Belvedere, Ohio where Clarice finds Gumb while Crawford’s teams go all SWAT on John Grant’s last known address. We find out later in the novel that Dr. Lecter knew Gumb lived in Belvedere, Ohio. Perhaps he was musing on the facts of the case while composing his sketches.

Jack Crawford, of all people, should have noticed the name “Belvedere” and made the connection. His dying wife’s name is Phyllis but he’s called her Bella for most of their entire relationship. Phyllis and Jack were both stationed in Italy and during one of their outings, a man called Phyllis “Bella,” or beauty. Bella is the feminine form; “bel” is the masculine form, as in bel vedere, or beautiful view. We learn later that Clarice has to work hard to trick herself into seeing any beauty in Belvedere, Ohio.

Now you’ve got the facts. Theorize with them.

There is another explanation as to why Crawford might have missed the clue in Dr. Lecter’s drawing from Clarice’s notes. Clarice does not know Italian. How would she have written the sketch’s title in her report? Dr. Lecter does not say, when she asks about the sketch, that is is the Old Plaza and the Dome seen from the Belvedere (pronounced in English, be-vuh-deer as in Belvedere, Ohio). Dr. Lecter says all the proper names in Italian except “Florence.” Florence is the English name for the city Italians call Firenze. Clarice’s ear would catch “Florence” and it may be that her report stated that the sketch was of Florence, but no further details. She doesn’t, after all, ask Dr. Lecter how to spell the names of the places with which she is unfamiliar. Crawford, reading a reasonably detailed report from Clarice, might have only noted that Dr. Lecter was sketching Florence– enough detail for a report if you don’t know what you’re looking at. Clarice, while an ignoramus in the Stoic sense, shows potential. Dr. Lecter is polite when he surmises that she is “innocent of the Gospel of St. John.” He calls her innocent, not ignorant. She’s simply not an expert in iconography. She sees all she can see in the image. Crawford, however, is experienced enough with Dr. Lecter to know how important images are to him. Will Graham captured Dr. Lecter in Red Dragon by recognizing that one of his victims was posed in a tableau of a Wound Man in one of Dr. Lecter’s books. Graham was an expert. We can’t be sure from simply reading the text that Dr. Lecter isn’t making the epiphany of “Belvedere” especially difficult to decode even if Clarice were to have written a verbatim transcript of their discussion. In speech Dr. Lecter may be pronouncing the proper names as an American would, or, alternately, with an Italian accent. He could be pronouncing the incidental proper names (Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo) in an Italian accent and “Belvedere” in an American accent to dare Clarice and Jack to take notice. Or, he could be pronouncing all the names in an Italian accent, a fact could be lost in translation between Clarice, innocent of Italian, and Crawford, who knows just enough to have had an epiphany. Each scenario is possible and each reveals a slightly different interpretation of Dr. Lecter’s motives. If we take Thomas Harris himself as the final authority, in the audiobook Harris reads Dr. Lecter’s part. Harris says all proper nouns including “Belvedere” with an Italian accent (albeit with a Mississippi drawl.)

Yeah ok SO WHAT?! And what about Sherlock?!

In Part II I’ll talk about TSotL as an intertext to Sherlock and the limits of this influence. I’ll compare Dr. Lecter’s method of reading to James Moriarty’s. I’ll talk about why & how I crawled out of the cannibal’s skull and into the consulting criminal’s and where I am going next… Or I just might try to revamp this to make more sense. I dunno…

#Repost of an old meta I deleted but need for a new project.#The Silence of the Lambs

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definedwrath · 4 years

Text

uploading data … ⟳ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 !

* ; — welcome , WILL GRAHAM . a long way from hannibal ( series ) , huh ? hm … a thirty - nine year old forensic psychology professor who looks like HUGH DANCY — could be worse . i heard you were at THE LIGHTHOUSE when we un - glitched , & you ( had a mental breakdown ] . still the intelligent & ruthless type , that’s why [ golden glow of a pendulum’s swing , waves crashing against a shoreline , & blood looking black in the moonlight ]’s totally your vibe . the memory of FALLING OFF THE CLIFF WITH HANNIBAL is hazy , but maybe the ( foldable pocket knife & red feathered lure ) waiting for you at the pawn shop’ll bring clarity . + human , demi male [ he/him ] , bisexual .

tws : blood , abandonment , murder , death

BEGINNING — born william “ will ” graham in louisiana , poor . his father worked fixing boats , and his mother had left before she had curated any stable enough memories for him to grasp . he followed his father from place to place in louisiana before eventually moving to new orleans . in new orleans , he became a homicide detective for the police force , but he couldn't pull the trigger . he left new orleans to attend george washington university in forensic science and became a professor at the fbi academy . will has an empathy disorder , allowing him to empathise with anyone . burdened with too many mirror neurons and an extreme imagination ; through an exploration of the evidence as well as his empathic nature , this allows him to mentally place himself in the positions of serial killers . he was brought in by special agent jack crawford to hunt down a serial killer and met a well - known consulting psychologist , hannibal lecter . will goes to therapy with hannibal to ensure he has someone to pull him back from the dark places he’s thrust into , but what starts as something akin to friendship turns into acts of betrayal , murder , sacrifice and protection as both of them begin to manipulate each other . down the rabbit hole they both go , them both changing each other with will finding righteousness , justice , in wrath ; in doing bad things to bad people . eventually , it all comes to head when will and hannibal kill serial killer , francis dolarhyde , together . not in horror of the act , but in horror of the enjoyment of the action -- will pulls them both off a cliff .

MIDDLE — still , born william “ will ” graham . much of his childhood was the same , except no longer did he live in louisiana in his memories . he lived in the cloud for his whole life as he recalls . he became a professor at whitmore college , teaching forensic psychology . he's still fully aware of his empathy disorder and tries to remain distant , keeping a mental shield , in order to avoid seeing too much .

END — will doesn’t have any explicit memories . frankly , he’s trying to go through his life as per normal . the mental breakdown resulted from an influx of horrific images ( memories ) at the time . he had gotten memories of totem poles made out of people ; of men becoming cellos ; of a girl sobbing , bleeding from a cut carotid , as he shot a man dead . he doesn’t have the rest of his memories drawn out for him . he does have dreams about a kitchen bathed in blood , though ; himself , coated crimson , pouring , spilling . the sounds of waves crashing , crashing louder , in his ears . copper on his tongue as blood floods floor boards , but nothing substantial enough -- as if someone ripped up the floor boards and replaced the tile . steady hands holding his , holding a knife to his gut , taking a gun from him , a hand cupping his face . a man in a pristine suit , betrayal lined in his features . a man he betrayed , a man he changed . a man whose heart he took in his hands and squeezed , whose heart he broke , thinks about hurting and hurting . a freefall , no parachute . things blurring together , a different man with a stern voice , a dark - haired woman and pitying looks . a girl he couldn't save , and the ache of a parent who lost a child . eye contact . tastelessness .

SCRIBBLED IN THE MARGIN —

DESPERATE TO CONNECT ,

child(ren) ; whether adopted or ‘ biological ’ , i would love to have will adopt someone(s) ! it'd be cool to have a pretty big family , but will could also have an only child ! i just really want will to have the opportunity to be paternal .

hookup ; ( m/f/nb ) , someone he's hooked up with , mayhaps ? can either be a new thing , a past thing , a casual thing , or maybe one is starting to get some feelings . whether or not there’ emotions in it or just physical , maybe a hookup .

exes ; ( m/f/nb ) , whether it was amicable or bad , a relationship that could have been dating or something stronger in ties ... a marriage ? whether they just couldn't connect or another painful reason . ( i won't accept a cheating plot for this though ! ]

friends ; you don't stop having friends even as an adult ! give this poor man some friends , maybe people he went to school with and kept in touch with ? someone he knew from his childhood ? a neighbour who became a friend ?

co - workers ; people who work at the college with him , it’d be nice to have someone he can get along with while he’s not grading papers . whether it be a co - worker he’s close to or otherwise just met , any co - workers would be cool .

TAG DIRECTORY ,

i. alone in that darkness / abt. about . i. this is my design / beg. starters . i. if you can’t beat god / vis. visuals . i. like somebody else / ism. musings . i. this is my becoming / int. interactions . i. then i felt powerful / aes. aesthetics . i. scales have fallen away / sol. solos . i. use a good scream / ask. ask responses . i. what’s important in my life / dyn. family values . i. somebody you cherished / dyn. will graham & schrodinger’s daughter , abigail hobbs . i. you and i have begun to blur / dyn. the conscious loss of one’s self for another , will graham & hannibal lecter .

#cloud:intro #i. alone in that darkness / abt.#i. this is my design / beg.#i. if you can’t beat god / vis.#i. like somebody else / ism.#i. this is my becoming / int.#i. then i felt powerful / aes.#i. scales have fallen away / sol.#i. use a good scream / ask.#i. what’s important in my life / dyn.#i. somebody you cherished / dyn.#i. you and i have begun to blur / dyn.#tags.

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ittasteslikeiron · 4 years

Text

Part One: Hypermnestra

Chapter 1

“Still falling

Breathless and on again

Inside today

Beside me today”

-Mazzy Star, ‘Into Dust’

The sharp, salt-scented air bit at Will’s face and cut into his lungs with cold, serrated claws. The pain was the least of his worries, however. A heavy sigh snuck passed his lips in a combination of fatigue, contentment, and guilt. He had made up his mind the moment he leaned his head against the doctor’s chest, eyes fixed on the churning waves below the cliff, reflecting the darkness hidden beneath them. His heart twisted painfully in his chest when he felt Hannibal gently move his head closer to Will’s. Will curled his fingers around Hannibal’s shirt, ignoring the damp patches even as they clung to his touch. The blood of The Dragon still plastered their skin and clothes, clouding the air with the dense smell of metal.

The profiler’s mind was repeating back Dr. Du Maurier's words without mercy. “Can’t live with him, can’t live without him,” she had mused, her expression revealing how much she believed she understood. Just the thought of her vacantly smug expression filled his stomach with lead. She thought she knew everything; everything about Hannibal, about Will. Bedelia Du Maurier would never completely comprehend the deadly dance the two killers were trapped in, but she did manage to end up right when the dances concluded.

Hannibal was infatuated with Will in a way he hadn’t been with anyone before. His actions over the many years that he and Will had known each other were more than proof of that. So why had Will been so blind? He seemed to have been drawn to Hannibal despite never deliberately taking a step down the path he now stood at the end of. Maybe he had known, at least to a degree, that his friend’s feelings towards him had been more than conventional. The crooked scar across his abdomen could tell him that. It was as if every sign and hint had been completely obscured until then… or maybe Will had purposely obscured them.

He had let Hannibal go where no one else could step foot; Hannibal was allowed to look behind the curtain, to see Will’s mind without any barriers. Did Will know then?

He realized Hannibal’s true nature while behind bars and yet his only issue was that the killer used him as a scapegoat, not that the killer had killed. Did he know then?

He dined at Hannibal’s table under the guise of the person Hannibal clearly wanted him to be. Did he know then?

Of course, these instances don’t really clue to Hannibal being in love. Will had been the one making questionable decisions in those situations. Those decisions indicated a certain… fondness on his end. This realization made Will pause, swallowing thickly. Was Will- Did he… share Hannibal’s sentiment? Part of him was saying that was obvious. Trips to Europe and certain corpses lying mere feet from him just then gave that away completely.

But of course, that made this so much harder to do. A stab of guilt pierced his heart and he bit down on his tongue to quiet his discomfort. He relaxed in the psychiatrist's arms, fighting back a sob when he felt Hannibal do the same. He took a deep breath and tipped them both off of the cliff. All it took was a gentle redistribution of his weight and they were suspended over the sea, plummeting at a concerning speed. Hannibal didn’t say anything, nor did he fight back. His arms remained wrapped around Will, as if to say that he understood. The two men just held each other tighter and Will braced himself before they hit the water.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gravel of the driveway crunched beneath Jack’s feet as he approached the house. The sound of it seemed to be replaced by words that had been spoken to him many years ago. Waves of conversations with Alana, Katz, Hannibal, and even Will himself were filling the empty spaces of his skull. He knew, He knew that something was off with Will when he left. There was something in the man’s eyes that gave away his guilt, but Jack had said nothing. Jack had assumed he was overthinking. He pulled Will from a happy life with a happy family only to throw him back into the viper pit that was interacting with Hannibal Lecter. Whatever he was about to find would be his own fault, wouldn’t it?

His thoughts were interrupted by an officer from the local department stepping forward to show him to the front of the house. Once he had stepped inside, an unnamed forensic called for Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller to come back inside the house. They didn’t greet Jack with their usual mild and cheery demeanors. Jimmy’s eyes hadn’t left his feet and Zeller seemed to find a spot on the wall more captivating than the task at hand.

“So,” Jack prompted, his voice leaving his throat in a rougher state than he intended. He cleared his throat before he continued, “what’s the damage?”

Jimmy grimaced and looked away, leaving Zeller to do the introductions.

“Well… it might be easier to explain if we do a walk through,” Zeller offered reluctantly, knowing Jack would take the situation hard. He headed towards a bedroom to their right with Jack and Jimmy in tow. He gestured vaguely to the on suite bathroom and the folded jumpsuit on the bed as he repeated his and Jimmy’s findings. “We can assume that Hannibal showered and changed, Will did too if you look into the guest bedroom across the hall. Then they had dinner,” he headed out into the dining room and pointed towards the kitchen, “not sure what… or who… they had just yet.” There was an uncomfortable silence after Zeller stopped talking. It was quite obvious that everyone was desperately trying not to think of the man they considered a friend eating what used to be a person with the man that killed their coworker… the man that had murdered the ever-witty Beverly Katz.

Since Jimmy could handle awkward silence the worst out of the three of them, he decided to continue where Zeller left off. “They were about to have a glass of wine,” he nodded in the direction of the shattered glass that littered the floor, “but a surprise visitor interrupted them.” He stepped through one of the broken windows and stood next to Francis Dolarhyde’s body. “There was a fight, Dolarhyde dropped here, and we don’t know where they are now.”

“Well,” Zeller interjected, “we know where they went…” He pointed to the trail of blood that led to the cliff face. “We have no way of knowing if they’re alive or not.”

Jimmy shrugged and said, “we can only guess the extent of their injuries, but there’s a chance they would have survived the fall.”

“Not a big chance,” Zeller scoffed, crossing his arms.

“It’s a sizable chance!”

“Twenty percent is not ‘sizable’...”

“Twenty-eight percent, actually, and-”

“Enough!” Jack’s booming voice echoed off of the pavement and the side of the house. “If there’s a chance they lived, there’s a chance they’ll take more lives. Tell me something that’ll actually help me find them.”

Jimmy and Zeller fell silent, their expressions both exuding a sense of overall unease. They didn’t have anything that could help find Hannibal or Will, but they did have a video camera. Once they get whatever footage was left on there, maybe something will surface. This information didn’t make Jack any happier, but it sure didn’t fill him with more dread so he took it as a positive.

He excused himself from the group, instructing them to keep working, and headed back to the front of the house. The gravel was poking up against his soles enough that he could almost feel it through his shoes. Maybe he just needed new shoes… The pair he was wearing was from back before Bella-

He stopped that thought from getting any further. It still pained him to think of Bella, and he couldn’t handle any more guilt just then. Of course, knowing who he had to call, he was sure he wasn’t escaping any of the guilt he deserved. He took a moment to psyche himself up for what would most likely be the lecture of a lifetime.

Dr. Alana Bloom was the first person, other than Jack Crawford, to know about Hannibal’s initial escape from the transport vehicle. She promptly fled to an undisclosed location, her wife and son at her side. She had a strong proclivity to wariness, especially when it came to Hannibal Lecter… and Will Graham. Dr. Bloom knew she was living on borrowed time and she wasn’t interested in returning that time at any point in the near- or far- future.

Because of this, it was perfectly understandable for her outrage to be at such a velocity as it was when Jack Crawford called. Of course, she tried to be courteous and remain calm.

“Jack,” She said once she had answered his call. Her voice was dripping with faux politeness. “Please, tell me you’ve called to let me know that my family and I fled our home for no reason and that you have Hannibal Lecter in custody.”

Jack Crawford’s silence was the first of many things to set her rage in motion. From just a second of hesitation, she already knew what Jack was about to inform her of. The man cleared his throat before finally admitting to what Alana suspected.

“No, Alana, that’s not why I’ve called. We’ve recovered Dolarhyde’s body at a cliff-side house that Hannibal owned. We don’t know where Will and Han-”

“You know for sure that Will was with him?”

“... yes, we’re certain.”

“How do you know?”

“Clothes, a meal set for two, a body with evidence of at least two attackers… I could go on,” he sighed, listing off the things he learned mere minutes ago as if he was an expert on them.

“Clothes? What do you mean clothes?”

“I mean, both Hannibal and Will changed into clothing that was stored at the house and left their old clothes behind.”

Alana fell silent, biting her tongue to keep herself from falling back into ‘I-told-you-so’s. At that moment, Morgan ran into the room, shrieking excitedly. Margot wasn’t far behind him, a large grin on her face. She scooped up the small boy in her arms, teasing him with a cheerful, “I got you!”

Crawford fell silent as well, hearing the sounds of Alana’s family interrupting. He assumed Alana wasn’t interested in discussing these topics in front of her son. For once in his life, Jack was right. Alana’s expression softened and she smiled bittersweetly in the direction of Margot and Morgan. Margot paused to give her a concerned nod and carried their son back to wherever he had escaped from. Once the noises of childhood innocence had faded into the background, she returned her attention to Jack and his disappointing news.

“Alana, I understand that you’re upset and I-”

“Upset? Jack, upset doesn’t even begin to cover it,” She snapped harshly. “From the beginning of this whole ordeal, from the first time you looped Will into your world, I told you it was a bad idea. I told you!”

“You’re the one that suggested Dr. Lecter in the first place!”

“Right, it’s completely my fault he wasn’t keen on people knowing he was a goddamn cannibal…”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Then what do you mean, Jack? I’ll take the blame for not being a fucking psychic but you are the reason Will was able to get as close to Hannibal as he did. Hannibal wouldn’t have been given the opportunity to escape yesterday if you could have had the common sense to say no to Will’s plan, especially knowing the nature of his and Hannibal’s relationship!” Alana’s tone had fallen into a bitter exasperation. Jack didn’t see merit in replying in that moment; he didn’t know what to say. After a few moments of Alana seething silently, he finally spoke up.

“Alana, I’m sorry I-”

“Great, Jack, I’m glad you’re humble enough to apologize,” She mused sarcastically. “Call me back when you’ve actually caught them, alright?”

Before Crawford could even recollect himself, the monotonous sound of the dial tone was droning in his ear. He sighed, defeated and regretful, before pulling up the next contact on his phone. Unfortunately, his calls would never be answered and he wouldn’t see who he was trying to contact until their corpse was in front of him.

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Five hours earlier, Will’s eyelids snapped apart and he leaned over, his esophagus burning as salt water was harshly pushed out of his lungs. He coughed, gently holding his throat, and tried to get his bearings. Hannibal Lecter was kneeling at his side, having just resuscitated the previously-lifeless ex-criminal profiler. Once his coughing fit had passed, Will laid back down against the chilled sand. His gaze remained linked with Hannibal’s, only breaking once Will let his eyes fall closed as he took a deep breath.

“You tried to take my life,” Hannibal’s voice broke the silence, sounding rough and exhausted. “I believe that was… the fourth attempt?”

Will remained silent. He knew that, deep down, he hadn’t wanted Hannibal to die. The only life he meant to take was his own. But, clearly, that plan had failed.

“If I didn’t know any better,” the doctor continued, amused, “I’d suspect you don’t actually find me interesting”

A chuckle forced itself past Will’s lips, despite his best efforts, and he finally opened his eyes again. His gaze was met with the sight of Hannibal smiling gently and good-naturedly.

As he sat up he croaked a feeble assurance, “Believe me, doctor, I find nothing more interesting than I find you.”

“Not to be redundant, Will, but our soaked clothes suggest otherwise…”

“You being interesting does not mean you’re immune to attempts on your life, Hannibal,” Will replied in a lighthearted tone. “Besides, doesn’t it keep you entertained?”

Hannibal, his face reflecting Will’s sly demeanor, opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted by approaching footsteps. His gaze snapped to the source of the noise, tensing as he did so. However, his shoulders quickly relaxed and his expression softened.

“Chiyoh,” He hummed, pleased. “I had expected you sooner.”

The woman glanced at Will, who had whipped around the second he had heard her approach as well, and coldly replied, “The car is ready.”

Will turned his attention back to Hannibal, confusion and suspicion creeping onto his features. He was looking for an explanation but his companion gave him none. Hannibal merely thanked Chiyoh and rose to his feet. She began to walk away, headed in the direction Will assumed ‘the car’ she had mentioned was in. When Will focused on Hannibal again, the doctor’s hand was extended towards Will. He took it without a second thought, groaning as Hannibal tugged him to his feet. Due to how injured the two of them were, they found it necessary to lean against one another as they followed after Chiyoh.

The gunman tugged the back door open and moved to the driver’s seat, her movements eerily fluid as usual. Will let his attention retreat into his mind and focus on his thoughts. Unfortunately, his thoughts were about as bleak as the tumbling sea Hannibal had dragged him from, only filled with a lot more regret and confusion. He regretted… well, that list was far too long to go over then. For the time being, he tried to focus on his most recent regrets. He glanced at the man sitting next to him. Hannibal seemed to be completely consumed by observing the passing pine trees outside his window.

Will turned to look outside his own window and fell back into his thoughts. He… had most definitely missed Hannibal. He missed the evening dinners preceded by pseudo-therapy sessions in the doctor’s home office. He missed the subtle jokes they had shared and the complete understanding of one another. But the realization of how much Will had missed Hannibal didn’t stop him from regretting going with him. After Europe and nearly losing his face, he had focused on healing himself; repairing his morality over the three years he hadn’t seen Hannibal. He had fallen back into old, malicious habits within just a day of being around the man again.

Will’s train of thought made its way to Molly and his jaw clenched. He loved Molly, he really did. But what he had become, especially now, wasn’t something that should be around Molly. He had a feeling she would get hurt if he continued living the way he had before the appearance of the red dragon. After all, she was currently lying in a hospital because of Will and the work he did. It would be painful to wake up every morning without her by his side. He wouldn’t be making breakfast with her in the morning or joking about their dogs’ anatomy. She wouldn’t be there to help him back into reality by drying his tears when he woke from the nightmares. His heart twinged at that realization and he closed his eyes, hoping to block out the pain.

Hannibal’s thoughts weren’t nearly as conflicted as Will’s. In fact, they were quite nearly the opposite. Hannibal had officially decided that the three years of incarceration he endured were completely worth it. He watched the elegant pine trees flicker by and he smiled to himself. Killing Francis Dolarhyde with Will was… ineffable. He started to understand why people were so entranced by religion; by their idea of God. If Will were a deity, Hannibal wouldn’t hesitate to worship him. The sight of Will, face painted in his own blood and the hands of death reflected in his eyes, was the most sacred image he had seen in his entire life. It had reminded him of the first time he had taken a life for a reason beyond vengeance; it reminded him of the power that had awakened in him. He saw that power in Will’s eyes on the day that Garrett Jacob Hobbs died in his own kitchen. He saw it when he came home to find a corpse on his table and a bloody-knuckled Will standing beside it. It was in Will at the Verger estate and it was in Will when he first visited Hannibal from behind the glass. Each time he was granted a glimpse of that look, that realization, in Will, it had grown stronger. Now it was ready to finally be set free.

Within thirty minutes, Chiyoh had pulled the car up to a secluded cabin and turned the engine off. Without a word, she stepped out of the car. Hannibal and Will moved to leave the vehicle as well, but they paused when they realized that their hands were still linked together from the moment Hannibal had helped Will to his feet on the beach. The two men stared down at their entwined fingers for a moment, Will with an expression of puzzled embarrassment and Hannibal appearing curious and pleased. Once Will and Hannibal brought their gazes up to one another, Will hastily let go of his companion’s hand and stepped out of the car. Hannibal remained inside the vehicle for a moment afterward, his gaze cast downwards and a flicker of disappointment crossing his features.

Once he had finally left the vehicle, he stood on the front deck of the cabin with Chiyoh while Will headed inside. Once he was certain Will was out of ear shot, he turned his head slowly to look at her. Her gaze remained focused on the horizon, scanning the trees with her usual melancholy expression. A songbird cried out from the treetops, catching Hannibal’s attention.

“I’ve done all I can for you, Hannibal,” Chiyoh murmured softly, still looking out at the forest around them. “This is the last time I will help you.” The gentleness of her voice held an obscure, sinister tone to it. Hannibal raised his brow and turned to her once more, a surprised smile on his face.

“Where will you go, now that you’re free?”

“I will never be free,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Memories and patterns will still dance in my head. But I can free myself in the ways Will Graham cannot.”

“You do not find solace in the power one has when they take a life. You only ever kill when you see it as absolutely necessary,” he hummed, his smile softening. “You never did change quite as much as any other, Chiyoh. You’ve stayed true to your nature; you didn’t adapt it despite your hardship.”

Chiyoh neglected to reply, choosing instead to stare at her feet. “By hardship, you mean yourself, don’t you?” She hummed, more of a correction than a question.

“I’d wish you luck on your path to freedom if I wasn’t confident you’ll be fine without it,” he chuckled. “Your resiliency is astonishingly strong.”

“Goodbye, Hannibal.” She looked at him, conflicting expressions twisting her features, for a moment longer. Hannibal nodded once and she stepped off of the porch and headed into the line of trees. Hannibal watched her silhouette disappear until she was completely obscured by the forest and it’s tangled arms. He took one last deep breath of the sharp, pine-filled air.

By the time Hannibal entered the cabin, Will had explored the first room quite thoroughly, taking note of every detail. To the left of the door was a comfortable living area, complete with a large and rustic stone fireplace nestled into the far corner. The furniture was either upholstered with a dark, nearly black, brown leather or it was composed of polished wood of the same hue. Will had walked over to the fireplace, sliding a finger across the mantle and smiling at the thin layer of dust resting there. He almost felt triumphant that for once Hannibal wasn’t perfectly maintaining something he owned.

The mantle had various framed pictures and wood carvings on it, each of which caught Will’s eye. They were pictures of lakes and carvings of wolves. His heart grew lighter when he realized why Hannibal had decorated so very out of character. Hannibal had tried to create some semblance of Will’s home within his extravagant aesthetics.

Above the fireplace, a watercolor painting of a human heart, submerged in water and suspended on a fish hook, was hung in a dark frame. It was beautiful, though morbidly so. Could Will have expected anything different from the Chesapeake Ripper? He smiled fondly, amused, and sat down on the sofa.

He turned his head to observe the right half of the room, which had been consumed by a kitchen and dining area. It was reminiscent of Hannibal’s home and for a moment it reminded Will of a time he’d prefer to forget. The scar across his stomach throbbed and he swallowed thickly. Luckily, that moment had been interrupted by Hannibal’s entrance.

The doctor stayed motionless at the door, just watching Will with seemingly no intention of moving. Will had stood up when he heard the door and was now practically a mirror image of Hannibal. They observed each other with a silent sense of contentment and awe. So much had changed in the past few hours, and the minds of the two men were still trying to catch up.

As Will’s exhaustion started to wear off, the dull throbbing of his wounds became more apparent. His discomfort must have shown because Hannibal’s brows drew together in concern. Will looked down at his bloodied hands and asked, “you don’t happen to have a first aid kit, do you?” An amused grin tugged at his lips despite the gaping wound in his cheek.

“There is a suture kit below the sink,” Hannibal replied, almost absentmindedly.

Will nodded sharply and headed to the kitchen. He opened the dark cabinet below the sink, ducking his head to look inside. He crouched down to retrieve the cabinet’s only contents, a tin box and a bottle of clear liquid that Will assumes was some form of rubbing alcohol. Hannibal had followed him into the kitchen area, washing his hands at the sink once Will had stepped away from it.

“Set those on the table, please,” he instructed with a steady and seemingly cheerful tone. Will obliged and took a seat, watching Hannibal finish washing his hands. The doctor had smiled more in the past two days than he had nearly the entire time Will had known him. It was… endearing? Will wasn’t sure why exactly, but it certainly made Will smile nearly just as often. Hannibal’s good mood seemed contagious.

The doctor walked over to the table and opened up the tin box, laying out suturing tools and supplies in an organized manner. He gestured vaguely towards the table and hummed, “if you wouldn’t mind, Will?”

“You want me to lay on the table?” Will almost laughed as a mocking expression of fake severity settled onto his face. “You aren’t going to try to eat me again, are you, because I thought we were passed that…”

Hannibal chuckled and shook his head. He grinned at the younger man and hummed, “No, it just would make tying sutures easier if you were laying on a table.”

Will nodded, a silent ‘I know, I know,’ being spoken through his expression. He sat on the edge of the table before turning and laying on his back, head just a few inches from the supplies Hannibal had set out. Hannibal gently tucked a rolled dish towel beneath Will’s skull to support it. He was closing his eyes, listening to the ambient sounds of the forest clouding the noise of Hannibal opening up the rubbing alcohol and starting to clean Will’s cheek.

The younger man sucked in a sharp breath between his now-clenched teeth. He opened his eyes again and looked up at Hannibal, watching his expressions change as his level of focus varied. The doctor then picked up a pair of tweezers and removed any foreign material from the wound, causing more irritation as the debris was pulled through damaged tissue.

He moved on, preparing the remaining tools in the kit to be able to sew up Will’s cheek. Hannibal paused before pushing the needle through Will’s flesh, first warning him of the amount of pain this would most likely cause. Of course, warning someone won’t make it hurt less so Will still flinched and hissed a few expletives.

“If you stay still, this will be much easier”

“Oh my god, you’re right,” Will said, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Why didn’t I think of that!”

Hannibal’s movements stilled and he shot a displeased and unimpressed glare at Will before muttering, “well, there’s no need to be rude…”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to eat me,” Will joked. “Are you saying the whole laying-on-the-table thing really isn’t for making stitches easier?”

The struggle of suppressing his chuckle showed quite clearly on Hannibal’s face. He had to stop for a moment, his head turning to the side and his eyes closing, before his composure was completely regained. He finished tying Will’s sutures without another word, still trying to hide how amusing he had found his companion’s antics.

Will grinned up at Hannibal triumphantly and they remained frozen in the high of amusement and contentment for a moment longer. Will’s expression softened as he became distracted by the way the sunlight was illuminating Hannibal’s irises. His mind began to wander, studying the components of Hannibal’s eyes; from their biological makeup to why Hannibal learned to hide his emotions behind them. He didn’t realize he had spaced off until Hannibal had said his names a couple times, making him blink and shake his head back and forth.

“Sorry, I- what were you saying?”

“Your shoulder, Will,” Hannibal answered softly. “You’ll need to remove your shirt for me to be able to work freely.”

“Right, right,” Will hummed in reply and sat up, trying to remove his shirt without making the stab wound hurt too much. Why was he always getting hurt in the shoulder? A rotator cuff injury, Jack shooting him, then Chiyoh shooting him, and this time getting stabbed… at least it wasn’t just the one shoulder, though. He probably would have lost more mobility if some of the wounds hadn’t been received by his opposite shoulder.

As he pulled his shirt away from his wound, he noticed that it peeled away rather than simply sliding off of him. Will’s partially-dried blood had glued the shirt to his skin. It probably would have been more disgusting to him if his years assisting the FBI hadn’t utterly desensitized him. After seeing mushrooms growing from the skin of corpses, he wasn’t sure he’d ever find anything nearly as disgusting.

Hannibal worked considerably slower this time, his touch seemingly lingering more often than before. Will was unsure of whether it was because Hannibal’s own wounds were starting to exhaust him or if... Either way, it didn’t matter. He had never been uncomfortable with physical contact from Hannibal. Which, now that he was thinking about it, was almost odd.

Will had always felt an aversion to being touched since he was fairly young. It had always felt so overwhelming, especially when coupled with his tendency to get lost in the details of his surroundings and the intensity of his empathy.

The final suture being tied pulled him away from his train of thought and back to reality. Hannibal was sanitizing the supplies and laying them back out in the organized manner he had before.

“This will be,” Hannibal paused, trying to choose the right words to say, “challenging, but I have confidence in your abilities, Will.”

Will raised an eyebrow and an expression of confused intrigue settled onto his features. Hannibal gestured for Will to get off of the table, which Will did, before taking his place and rolling up the hem of his shirt to expose the gunshot on his stomach. Will’s face fell.

“Hannibal, I don’t think I can-“

“There’s no internal bleeding as I am still fully conscious,” Hannibal interrupted in a reassuring tone. “All that I need you to do is make sure the wound is sterilized and bandaged. It’s a relatively small wound, you will do fine.”

“But-”

Hannibal reached out and grabbed Will’s hand. He tugged him closer and rested his free hand on the uninjured side of Will’s face. Will’s words died in his throat and he merely stared at Hannibal, brows twisted into a concerned and anxious expression. Hannibal continued reassuring him, softly saying, “My dear boy, you’ve no reason to worry. If it helps, this isn’t going to be a permanent solution to our wounds.”

Will swallowed thickly and looked down at his feet, nodding slowly. Hannibal’s hands drew away after tentatively brushing a stray curl from Will’s forehead. Will rolled up his sleeves and made quick work of washing his hands. He returned to the table and gently picked up the rubbing alcohol, turning it in his hand. Will’s eyes lifted from the label to meet Hannibal’s.

“You sure you trust me to do this?”

“I trust you with my life, William.”

“Bad move on your part,” he mumbled.

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>> Chapter 2<<

#nbc hannibal #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannigram #murder husbands #will graham #alana bloom #margot verger #jack crawford #jimmy price #brian zeller #francis dolarhyde #the red dragon #bryan fuller #fanfic

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darachsciath · 5 years

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WHERE TO FIND YOUR SCOTCHY

…because I have multiple blogs and sometimes I tend to disappear from one or some of them for a tiny bit, but often it’s only because I’m hiding on a different one.

So if you ever wanted to write a thing with me, but didn’t get the chance yet (or you just love me so much you want to follow me everywhere – or, you know, if you’re so petty you want to block me everywhere), here’s where you can usually find me:

ragnarsscn - main blog, slow activity - Ivar the Boneless from History’s Vikings with crossover verses for history, mythology, GoT, t100 and more…

fedresonner - high activity multimuse sideblog featuring OCs and canon muses from various fandoms including Vikings, GoT, Umbrella Academy, The Walking Dead, Tolkien, and more…

darachsciath - main blog, high-ish activity - Thorin Oakenshield from Tolkien’s The Hobbit, including AUs for modern settings and Lord of the Rings.

zilvervos - slow activity multimuse sideblog featuring Francis Dolarhyde from NBC’s Hannibal, and other characters portrayed by Ri.chard Ar.mitage.

kaeciilius - main blog, high activity - Kaecilius from Marvel’s Doctor Strange.

And if you can’t find me on any of my blogs, I’m probably doing that thing called living outside of Tumblr…or I’m just asleep…

#( OOC. )#( PSA. )#don't rebagel :')

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zilvervos · 5 years

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REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

BOLD all that applies to your muse! Feel free to add more!

FRANCIS DOLARHYDE

stolen from: @murdersanctum tagging: @hefzyisback @formidablekind and anyone else who’d like to do this.

#( muse. francis dolarhyde )

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hefzyisback · 3 years

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REPOST. DON’T REBLOG.

BOLD all that applies to your muse! Feel free to add more!

FRANCIS DOLARHYDE

Tagged from: @zilvervos

tagging:you, just tag me

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parkstone-international · 3 years

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Shelley’s art Musings – Spotlight on William Blake

The Great Red Dragon and the Woman clothed with Sun – 1805-1810 When I think about William Blake, I instantly think of the film “Red Dragon” – you know the one where the character Francis Dolarhyde is obsessed with the painting and kills his family to try and gain the same strength as the creature depicted. The film was inspired by the book “Red Dragon” by Thomas Harris and was a lead into the…

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meteora-writes · 4 years

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We Could Be Perfect One Last Night ch.8

Fandom: Hannibal Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham Warnings: Angst, Revenge Plotting, Discussion of Cannibalism Chapter: 8. This Riddle Of Revenge Description: Jack receives a call from Alana. Will and Hannibal discuss what they intend to do with Bedelia and Jack when they get their hands on them. Authors Notes: So this took me way longer than I’d like to finish. The muses buggered off on me for a bit. But I’m back in time to get this posted before my birthday =D Yay! Read on AO3

~~~~~ Read Ch.1.Ch.2.Ch.3.Ch.4.Ch.5.Ch.6 Ch.7~~~~~

Eight Days Post Fall

“Did you get the video?”

“Yes, Jack, I got the video,” Alana confirms with a sigh over the phone. She watched it three times before calling.

“And?” Jack asks expectantly.

“You want my professional opinion?” she asks, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. She only reached out to Jack via email earlier in the day to see if he had any information not shared in the news regarding Will and Hannibal being declared dead. She figured he would email her back with something other than a video of Will and Hannibal killing Francis Dolarhyde then falling off a cliff.

“That’s exactly what I want. I want to know what you think happened. You know Will better than I do. Do you think it’s possible he pushed them over the edge, or do you think that they fell? And do you think it’s possible they’re still alive.” It’s all he’s been able to think about for the last week. Did Will push them, or did he fall with Hannibal in some sort of staged plan to escape? Whatever the answer he won’t be satisfied until he has some kind of solid evidence. Which he, unfortunately, found none of while searching the area around the bluffs.

Half of the homeowners in the area refused to allow their vacation homes to be searched. Some stated that they had already been down to check the homes themselves and found nothing out of place. Others just ignored them or said they could search them if Jack got a warrant. With no evidence leading anyone to believe Will and Hannibal made it out of the ocean, no judge would issue one.

“I think that given the frame of mind Will had been in while helping you track down Francis Dolarhyde, he probably came to some kind of truce with Hannibal despite his feelings towards him to take the psychopath down. As for how things went with Hannibal in the end, Will knows how ruthless Hannibal can be, he probably saw no other way of dealing with him and pushed him over the edge the only way he could. The way they turned before falling would seem to support that.” Alana manages to sound professional as she gives Jack her assessment of things. Honestly, she has some very small doubts. But she isn’t going to voice them. Jack is wound tight enough as it is, she doesn’t want to agitate him when it’s likely pointless.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Jack confesses with a sigh. He remembers the three of them deciding they needed to kill Hannibal after Hannibal helps him kill Dolarhyde, but he never meant for it to go down like this. “Molly Graham is speaking at my suspension hearing next week. She wouldn’t return any of my calls after we initially spoke the day Will disappeared. I don’t think I’ll have my job for much longer…”

“Well, you did want to retire soon,” Alana notes, trying to lighten the mood of the call even just a little. She hasn’t met Molly, but knowing the kind of people Will is attracted to, she can imagine what she must be like.

“I had been hoping it would be at least a few more years away. When I was completely grey and too tired to hold a gun,” Jack says woefully. “Is everything alright with you? How are Margot and Morgan holding up?”

“We’re all just fine, Jack. Margot is busy teaching Morgan how to swim right now. I tried to tell her he’s a little young for that, but they’re having a good time so I won’t spoil their fun,” Alana tells him with a small smile to herself. She can see her wife and son out swimming through the window of her office. The estate they’re staying on is big. Not as big as the one in Virginia. But it’s substantial. And it has a pool. Which works in their favor since it’s summer in the southern hemisphere.

“Must be nice. It’s still cold here,” Jack tells her with a chuckle. It’s warmed up a little since the storm that made the search for Will and Hannibal difficult, but it’s still only in the forties out most days.

“It is… Listen, Jack, I don’t honestly know if Will and Hannibal could have survived that fall or not. But I think if they had we would have had some sort of sign by now. Will would reach out to Molly or you if he could. Hannibal can bide his time when he wants something, but if he’s got Will with him I’m not so sure he would hold back for long.”

“It’s a waiting game. One that might never end…” Jack says as he turns in his chair to look out his office window. It’s a nice enough day out. Warming up enough to allow more snow to melt.

“I need to go. I promised Margot I wouldn’t be too long. Email if you need to get in contact with me again. You’ll forgive me for not giving you another way to contact me, but we can’t be too careful,” Alana says, feeling just a little bad. She knows she can trust Jack. But wants to protect her family, and that means not trusting anyone despite what her gut tells her.

“I will. Thank you, Alana. Take care.”

“Take care, Jack.”

~~~~~

Twelve Days Post Fall

“You’re certain you’re ready to move forward with things?” Will asks as he removes the last stitch from the healed gunshot wound in Hannibal’s back. Hannibal removed the ones in the front on his own, but he needed Will’s help with the ones in his back just as he had in getting the wound stitches properly closed a day after receiving it.

“Absolutely,” Hannibal answers with a glance over his shoulder at Will. He’s seated in one of the wooden chairs at the table, Will kneeling behind him. He would have liked to take the stitches out a little sooner, but Will had taken one look at them after nine days and said he needed more time to heal. He finds that hard to believe, but he went with Will’s judgment in this case. He suspects it was something more along the lines of Will not feeling ready to remove them for him as he still felt off-kilter from dealing with his own.

“Then we should go for Bedelia first. She more than likely went off on her own again rather than going into FBI protective custody. And even if she had that would have ended shortly after we were declared dead,” Will notes as he moves to help Hannibal put his shirt back on. Not that he needs the help, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. He feels cooped up. And he misses his dogs.

“Tracking her down won’t be difficult. She let slip one night that she used to summer in Connecticut. I believe her family still owns a home there that we can locate easily enough.” She had made the comment at a party they attended when first arriving in Italy. She didn’t think he was within earshot at the time, or she never would have said it. Everything she told the people they met was either a half-truth or some other variation thereof. He could always tell when she was lying. And she knew it. So, she didn’t bother lying beyond the deception of their true identities. “Tell me, do you intend to help me deal with her, or do you simply wish to watch?”

Will steps around the chair Hannibal sits in to stand in front of him, watching as he carefully buttons his shirt while he thinks on his answer. A small part of him almost likes Bedelia. But knowing she got away with the lengths she went to lie and cover her own skin after willingly leaving the country with Hannibal bothers him on some level. She was honest with Will in private. He can appreciate that. But she’s used her experience with Hannibal to make a name for herself and gain a level of professional esteem that she never would have achieved otherwise. It’s almost as irritating as what Chilton did with his damn book.

“What exactly is it that you plan on doing with her?” Will asks leu of answering right away. He knows Hannibal intends to eat her. The question is, does he plan to kill her and then eat her, or keep her alive like he did with Miriam Lass so he can toy with her first?

“I was thinking I might like to give her a similar treatment to that of the one I gave Dr. Gideon,” Hannibal explains as he finishes buttoning his shirt and moves to stand so that he and Will are eye to eye.

“The forensic report said his limbs had been amputated,” Will recalls with a tilt of his head. He didn’t ever get a look at the body in person, just read the paperwork and look at photos later on. “Taken one by one over the course of roughly two weeks. His stomach had his own partially digested remains inside.”

The smile on Hannibal’s face is one of his rare genuine ones. “He made for a most fascinating dinner guest. It was almost a shame to kill him. He ate everything I prepared and served him. Even when he was down to a single arm and had very little appetite left,” Hannibal recalls. The man was absolutely insufferable on some levels, but he took his fate in stride and could keep up a conversation. He can respect that at least.

“I don’t know if I’m more impressed or disturbed by that,” Will says with a shake of his head. He’s joking, just a little.

“I seriously doubt that you find anything I’m capable of to be truly disturbing at this point,” Hannibal speculates. “If the idea of my keeping Bedelia alive bothers you, you don’t have to participate. I’m more than capable of taking care of her on my own.”

Will considers the offer. Thinks about what it would be like to sit at the table with her and Hannibal as he serves up some piece of her like a fine holiday meal. See the look of defeat in her eyes as she accepts her plate. A small, fading part of him still screams somewhere deep down that it’s wrong. But he doesn’t honestly feel bothered by the idea. Especially given the fact that he knows he’s eaten people before… Unwittingly as it was at the time. “It doesn’t bother me,” he finally admits as he turns away to look out the window.

“You’re certain?” Hannibal questions carefully. They’ve not really talked about this yet. Killing Jack together was a given. But Bedelia is Hannibal’s own personal vendetta. He knows Will accepts that Hannibal intends to eat them both. But he hasn’t said if he intends to join him or not. Which Hannibal won’t push. He won’t force him to do something he isn’t interested to in this case.

“I don’t feel any desire to eat her, but I would like to see the look on Bedelia’s face when you serve up a piece of her up for dinner,” Will admits as he glances back to Hannibal. He doesn’t miss the way his words affect the other man. Something in his eyes becoming almost primal. It sends a shiver down his spine as it reminds him of the look in Hannibal’s eyes when he ripped out Francis Dolarhyde’s throat with his teeth. “Do you intend to do the same to Jack when we go after him?”

“The thought had crossed my mind, but I leave that decision up to you. After all, you are the one who was most wronged by him. He treated you like an animal, Will. And an ill cared for one, at that. I think it’s only fair you should be the one to decide what’s to be done with him in the end,” Hannibal says as he turns to grab his notebook from where he left it beside the bed. He doesn’t doubt that whatever Will decides upon will be in some way satisfying for him also. He remembers quite well how vivid the other incredibly man’s imagination is. “You should take your time deciding. Nothing has to be settled upon until after we’ve finished with Bedelia.”

“I already know what I want to do with Jack,” Will says plainly as he watches Hannibal walk over to take his usual seat on the far end of the couch. He always lets Will take the side closest to the window so that he can sit and look outside if he likes. It also means he’s facing Hannibal if he does so. And he’s not blind to the fact that he’s been the subject of more than one of Hannibal’s sketches in that situations.

“Oh?” Hannibal doesn’t look up, just turns the pages of the notebook until he finds the latest sketch he’d been working on.

“I was thinking about how he and I first met,” Will begins as he takes his seat opposite Hannibal on the couch, body turned towards him with one leg pulled up onto the space between them at an angle. His posture is wide open. One arm resting on the back of the couch while the other rests so his hand is in his lap.

That gets a curious look from Hannibal, who pauses in the shading he’d begun to work on. “The museum opening?”

Nodding, Will scratches at his jaw and looks out the window once again. There are still patches of snow on the ground. Early March weather changing the landscape to a muddy semi-frozen mess. “I have some ideas on how we might contribute our own exhibit to it.”

The smile that creeps on to Will’s face is enough to give Hannibal an idea of what the other man is thinking, and it sends a thrill through him at the thought of Will having thought this through already in detail. “He did seem quite invested the one time we spoke of the museum.”

Will huffs a laugh, because that is a serious understatement. “Jack was intimately involved in creating and establishing that museum. He helped track down half of the items on display personally. He was like a proud parent come to watch their child graduate when it finally opened.” He remembers their argument over the name that night well. And he remembers thinking Jack was a fool that would probably end up part of a display in his own creation someday. It only seems fitting that he and Hannibal be the ones to put him there. “He was almost as invested in the forming of that museum as he was in finding the Chesapeake Ripper,” he notes. “How do you feel about making him into an exhibit in his own museum? I was thinking something along the lines of the Chesapeake Ripper’s greatest hits?”

“A mosaic forged from the elements of my previous kills?” Hannibal finds himself imagining Jack strung up like a mannequin, body cut open, various pieces missing or artistically arranged along with him. Posed in a way that lets everyone who lays their eyes upon him see the scope of their work at a glimpse. It gives him an idea of what to do with the rest of Bedelia when he’s finished with her as well. “Beautiful.”

“I thought you might like that idea,” Will says almost fondly with a shake of his head before looking outside once again. The sunlight makes his eyes sparkle with an almost ethereal glow.

It makes Hannibal want to flip the page and draw him yet again… “What about your own contribution? This would be your work of art as well as my own,” Hannibal reminds him. He honestly loves Will’s idea, but he wants him to contribute his own elements to this creation.

“I have my own twist to put on things,” Will says vaguely as he turns his head and glances towards the tacklebox where it rests by the table. “Don’t worry, Hannibal, I intend to leave my mark alongside yours when the time comes.”

“I look forward to it,” Hannibal confesses with a small smile. He’s watched Will for almost two weeks now. Making his fishing lures and daydreaming. He wishes he could see the things that come to that fascinating mind when it drifts. He knows Will likes to go to his stream when he has nothing else to do, but he also lets himself wander to darker places from time to time now that he only dared go when Hannibal asked. Because of that, it’s easy to spot when he does. His eyes take on a more feral sharpness that isn’t there other than when he’s ready to kill. It never fails to bring a similar desire out in Hannibal when he sees it.

“When do you want to leave?” Will asks with a tilt of his head after a moment silence passes between them. His gaze has drifted to the sketch in Hannibal’s hands. It’s of his old office. The furniture and fireplace are what give it away at a glance. Will still sees the room in his mind regularly enough to recognize the half-drawn shapes.

“I’ll give Chiyoh a call tomorrow and ask her to bring us to my house in New York. She can get us a temporary vehicle and more supplies while we get the house ready for guests.” He hasn’t been there in over four years. Having last gone some time before ever meeting Will. He’ll need to get new medical supplies and restock the pantry before they make their move to retrieve Bedelia.

“How far away is this place, anyway?”

Humming, Hannibal thinks a moment. “About four hours or so. It’s in the lower mountains, close to a town called Rhinebeck.”

“Great,” Will mutters with a slight look of discomfort flashing across his face. He doesn’t know how to feel about being in a car with Chiyoh for that long. He’s still a little bitter about their last interaction on the train. Her visit to bring them supplies was awkward enough for him as it was. He can only imagine what a road trip with her would be like. Especially with Hannibal and his ability to read people most of the time.

“You worry too much, Will. Chiyoh holds no feelings of ill will towards you. She is aware of how important you are to me. That makes you important to her as well. You’re family, and she would never do anything to hurt family,” Hannibal does his best to assure. He had spoken with her in private outside before she left the other day. She could tell from one look at the two of them together that something had shifted in their dynamic. He didn’t need to explain and she didn’t ask. Only promised to help the two of them finish what they needed here so they could find a quiet life together when all is said and done.

Will shifts almost uncomfortably in his seat, hand going to that torn bit of leather on the couch back to fidget with. “Did she tell you that or are you just making assumptions based on interactions?”

“She gave me her word,” Hannibal says in way of clarification. “She promised me to assist us in getting our affairs in order so that we may leave together after things have been taken care of.”

Will raises his eyes from Hannibal’s drawing and once again meets Hannibal’s gaze, uncertain blue meeting confident whiskey-brown. He relaxes after a beat and nods. “Alright,” is all he says before averting his gaze again and letting his thoughts drift. It’s good to know she’s willing to help them in some way. That she made that promise to Hannibal.

His thoughts find their way to images of them confronting Jack. Going through various scenarios of how they might surprise him to get the upper hand in a fight against the well-trained agent. What things they might do with his body after to leave their farewell masterpiece.

The only thing that draws his mind away is the realization that Hannibal is watching him from mere feet away with a smile on his face. It makes him look younger. And draws Will’s gaze to his lips more than once. He tries to hold back the thoughts that come with looking at them. He’s not quite ready for them. At least not yet.

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