#everything can and will be a hannibal reference

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hahah nice hannibal reference, local park !

[dolicekiss]

Hey,

could you please write a yandere Hannibal one-shot, where the reader is one of Bedelia‘s ex patients/friends and Will‘s best friend. Will soon knows Hannibal is interested in her,( after she met him,while dropping of Will for therapy) and tries to ^save^ her from him. However Hannibal again has his way and maybe it ebds with smut?

♡: ohmygod i was literally about to write a yandere nigel but this is even better, especially knowing how manipulative hannibal can be !! also, i hope i do this justice, thanks :D

Famished

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal x Gullible, mentally disturbed female reader.

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+ only, minors dni) unprotected sex, manipulative hannibal, oral (female receiving) fingering, yandere hannibal, mention of drugging, mentally disturbed reader and traumatized, taking advantage (hannibal is cooking up plans) slight breeding kink, reader is very gullible <3 that's all

SYNOPSIS: After dropping Will Graham to his therapy session and having a run in with his prominent, renowned psychiatrist — Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you become the object of his infatuation and obsession. It is in his best interests to make you fall for him, make you his. Whether it is by his cunning manipulation tactics or his alluring charms.

For the first time ever, Hannibal Lecter found himself lost and in a puzzled position.

He was at a loss of words for the immense amount of adoration and awe swelling in his chest whenever he laid his eyes on you — which was rare. As you only came by when you had to drop your best friend, Will Graham to his office. It wasn't in your daily routine, as you had other things in life that required your attention but whenever you were available and whenever Will needed your help, you were there.

Because he was there when you needed someone.

Hannibal’s brain was quick to recognize you though, after seeing an old file of yours in Bedelia’s office, with your picture inside. It had all your details and Hannibal felt as if it was meant to be. He'd read your file, in the absence of Bedelia. Completely out of character for even someone like him but he knew you.

He knew all of you.

The exchange of pearly smiles between you and Will when he first introduced you to Hannibal was not very pleasing to the eye for the blonde male. Aggravated but hiding behind the mask of politeness, he only returned those smiles and then watched you leave his office.

That same night, both Hannibal and Will were restless. Will because he had noticed the curiosity awakening in Hannibal’s impassive gaze when he took note of you and Hannibal laid restless because of the uneasiness felt ever since you had left his office. He had this, insatiable urge, he felt —famished.

And only you could satiate that hunger of his.

“Hannibal, you appear lost.” Bedelia commented, the dullness of her office somehow matching his own. The two shared similar tastes, no wonder he was associated with her.

He lifted his gaze up from the red carpet covering the entirety of her floor, fingers tucked understand his chin. He was indeed lost, lost in you. Like an alligator, you had consumed him whole and he slightly twitched in the seat.

Hannibal had a plan.

This was the plan.

“I had a run in with one of Will’s associates, who also used to be your patient.” He responded, bitterly referring to you as his associate instead of his friend because even the idea of that burned him with such envy and jealousy.

Will didn't deserve you.

Not as his friend, not as something else.

Bedelia crossed her leg, staring at him with certain curiosity. “I do not break doctor patient confidentiality.”

“I'm aware.” Hannibal responded as quickly as he could, eyeing the woman. His presence was heavy and his gaze was sharp as an eagle's. Nothing missed him, not even the subtle details and minorities of life.

He noticed everything.

Hannibal laid his hands on his lap, mimicking Bedelia as he crossed his leg over the other but with much more authority. “Why did you stop seeing her?”

Bedilia scoffed. “I didn't stop seeing her, she told me her mind had healed. That she didn't need me anymore, that she was fine.” Her voice was laced with subtle bitterness at how you interrupted their sessions. Bedelia felt like she was being called incompetent indirectly by you.

That was all Hannibal needed.

This time you dropped Will off again but this time, he seemed evidently upset with the idea of you running in with Hannibal Lecter again. It was weird to you, how he acted when it came to you crossing paths with his psychiatrist. Hell, you'd even made a joke about not snatching the handsome doctor away from Will.

But he only responded with a sour face, definitely not impressed with your horrible attempt at a joke.

As he exited the car and headed for his office, you watched him but then your eyes captured a wallet and a phone right where Will was sitting. He'd left his belongings behind. You let out a sigh, contemplating whether to give them to him now or later. You didn't care that your bestfriend acted all sour at the mention of crossing paths with Hannibal.

He was uncomfortable with the idea of you meeting his own psychiatrist, now that was weird. You left the car too, with the items in your hand and headed inside. Air chilly against your skin, you smiled at how its soft hands caressed your skin, prickling it slightly but you basked in the feeling.

As you reached the door, you knocked on it and waited for someone to open it. It was peeled open and there stood Hannibal, and a smile broke when he caught you standing there. Cladded in a long coat, which concealed a casual dress behind it. His gaze took you in, drank you like the most finest wine and then he captured the familiar wallet and phone in your hand.

He'd seen it one too many times in the hand of his patient.

��Here to return his belongings, I assume?”

You nodded your head. “He forgot these.”

Extending out your hand with Will’s things in your hand, the door was pulled open more revealing another figure. Will stared at you, a look of annoyance on his face when he found you standing there. He'd told you, even subtly warned you to not ever come to Hannibal’s office but here you were. Breaking the only rule that he presented before you.

You rolled your eyes at Will, his behavior abnormal and different than usual was something you didn't appreciate at all.

Hannibal took the things from you and then handed them over to Will. “I'll take my leave then, goodbye.”

Just like that, you were out of the towering presence of those two. God, was it only your imagination or did it actually feel suffocating being in their presence together — especially after Will had warned you off basically to not come in front of Hannibal Lecter ever. The way he smiled at you, it was sweet but for some reason, goosebumps woke up on your skin.

You shook your head, went home and after a warm shower, curled up in your bed. An attempt to sleep, for the umpteenth time but everytime you rested your eyes, that same nightmare haunted you once more. Adding a new digit to the list as it did. Reminding you of the darkness that would always stay within you. Rooted inside you.

The blood soaked hands, the screams, the shattering of glass — it replayed over and over again. Like a film that was lagging a lot, hesitating to go forward, so all you could do was rewind and watch that same scene over and over.

You woke up, drenched in sweat. Chest heavy and lungs desperate to drag in as much air as they could. It was all too vivid, like it had happened today and not years before when you were only a little girl.

It wasn't easy living with the fact that you had been spared by your kidnapper while he slaughtered your friend, right before your very gaze. You didn't deem it worth it, didn't find yourself worthy enough to be alive, instead of her.

If he'd only killed you too.

— ♡ —

The next day Will had told you he'd pick you up from your house and take you somewhere, somewhere where he could discuss something important with you. It baffled you when the man pulled up to his own house, the irony of it leaving you with certain uneasiness.

“Will, just tell me. Are you jealous?”

That could be the only reason.

He stayed silent, not answering your question before letting out a sigh of what you assumed to be frustration. He shook his head, fingers scurrying to fix his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Eyebrows furrowed and curls resting against his forehead.

“You need to stay away from Hannibal Lecter. He is a dangerous man, a sadist, a cunning bastard.” You blinked at all the profanities Will Graham was suddenly using to describe his own psychiatrist.

You had no idea of his little plan to play along with Hannibal to catch him so this whole situation was extremely uncomfortable for you.

“You're making that up.” You accused him, with a shake of your hand to dimiss his accusations. “If he was such a cunning bastard, he wouldn't be your psychiatrist.”

“Listen to me.” Will’s voice was dangerously low, frustration obvious in it. “Just do what I'm saying. Don't linger around him, don't even drop me off anymore.”

The water was slowly boiling over your heads and it could spill at any moment. Tension rose in the room and you, with your adamant personality, didn't give in. You wanted— no, you needed to know this. Just what the fuck was going on and why were you being kept in the dark?

It made you feel hopeless and almost sad, because to you it seemed as the only paddle in your life didn't really trust you.

“First, stop hiding shit from me. I'm your fucking bestfriend, Will. Just tell me—”

The loud noise of his palms slamming down on the wooden table in his living room made you flinch. Your body jumping as you let out a shriek at the loud noise, not very fond of them ever since the traumatizing event from your childhood. You hadn't expected him to react like this, especially with such aggression.

“Just stay the fuck away from Hannibal Lecter. That's all I'm asking you to do, you can't even do that?” Eyebrows scrunched and disappointment swirling behind those specs of his, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his tone, words and his unexplainable behavior.

It all overwhelmed you to the core.

Then a knock interrupted you both.

Will and you turned around and found Hannibal standing behind the net door, his aura slicing through the heavy tension that hung like a knife on your heads. You composed yourself, hands with a tremor reaching out to fix the few loose strands of your messy bun.

You swallowed thickly — once more put in a situation where you had to pretend to be fine for someone else. All because of your own bestfriend.

The fact made you vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. To the point Hannibal would smell it off you and it gave him the perfect opportunity, laid out on a damn silver platter. Awaiting to be devoured.

“What're you doing here, Hannibal?”

Hannibal’s gaze exchanged between the two of you, pretending as if he wasn't just standing outside eavesdropping on your conversation. It was evident on your face that you wanted to leave, as soon as you could but without Will’s help, you couldn't actually leave. His fucking house was in the middle of nowhere and he was your only ride.

You wrapped an arm around yourself instinctively, a habit you'd adapted to when you were little. In a silly little attempt to protect yourself from the harm you faced as a child.

“Had to discuss something about a case but I guess I chose the wrong timing?” His gaze trailed over you and he took notice of the way your chest fell and rose, how you stood there as if you were cornered and scared, your own arm wrapped around you in a sense to provide the comfort you ached for.

You seemed so perfect like this.

On the verge of breaking.

“I'll be outside.” You didn't even bother grabbing your coat, only reached for the door and left without sparing them both a glance.

The cold hit you like a damn truck, shivers dancing across your spine. Regret consumed you about not grabbing your coat from Will’s hanger but you were too stubborn to go back inside and take it. So you chose to suffer in the cold, sitting by the stairs, staring ahead into the darkness the forest and the night had to offer you.

You thought about Will. His behavior, how he'd spoken to you despite knowing your history and it pained you but as usual, you suppressed it. Your pain didn't matter, how could it matter when you were lucky enough to be left alive while your own friend was slaughtered like some fucking animal?

Knees glued to your chest, you didn't know for how long you stayed there but you felt someone put a coat on you. Your body was quick to absorb the warmth it had to offer and you lifted your head up, hoping you'd find Will but instead Hannibal had shown you more decency than your own friend.

‘Cunning bastard, this?’ You thought.

“Thank you.” You held the coat tightly around your shoulder and noticed it wasn't yours, it was his own. Hannibal had given you his own coat and the bare minimum action, the simple act of kindness, it all was enough to worsen the situation for you right now.

For Hannibal, this was perfect.

You were the perfect prey.

He knew Will would react the way he had — his emotional outbursts were bound to get aggressive and he wanted Will to be on thin ice around you. To make you cautious of him, so that your lonely heart will begin searching for another companion.

Him.

“Your car isn't in the driveway, which means Will is going to drop you off.” He said and stared ahead at the empty space next to Will’s car. “But I suppose you don't really wish to be in his presence right now.”

You slowly nodded.

He was a psychiatrist, a witty one at that. There was no point in lying to the man as you tightened the coat around you. His scent bringing along a sense of comfort. It was warm, a little like nature itself.

“If you allow me, I can drop you off.”

Hannibal extended his hand out, staring down at you and you looked at his hand, then him. It was a moment of silence but help was offered and you slowly slipped your hand into his, as he raised you up from the ground. The touch of your hand, being this fucking fortunate enough to be able to feel you flesh to flesh, Hannibal was over the moon. An itch growing in his thumb to run it lightly over the skin of your knuckles but he somehow with the power of a celestial being restrained himself.

Your perfume had branded his skin.

You had branded his skin.

He lead you to his car and you sat inside, all the while Will watched from his window. There was only so much he could do but he knew that Hannibal’s charm was difficult, nearly impossible to resist. Whether he visited in the form of archangel azrael, a companion or a foe.

He was still going to be in control.

The car ride was silent when it began. Your gaze lingering over the passing street lamps, blurring in your vision as a lone tear slid down your cheek. Akin to the person you were, lonely and isolated.

“I could sense the tension in the air.” Hannibal’s soft voice sliced through the silence. “Are you alright?”

You turned to him and nodded. “Just a small misunderstanding, that is all.”

It was, infact, not a misunderstanding. Hannibal knew why you seemed this heartbroken, about the incident that occurred to you as a child, about Will’s outburst and how it terrified you.

Like a ripe fruit, you were all raw and vulnerable. Ready to be consumed by him, to be savored by him, to get rid of his insatiable hunger.

Hannibal believed he could fix you — by not fixing you at all. A broken masterpiece you were and he'd be damned if he tried to put back the pieces together. He preferred the picture he saw right now more.

“He should not have raised his voice at you.”

Your gaze lifted up. “You heard it?”

He nodded, while swiftly taking a turn into a street. “I did not mean to pry, my deepest apologies. I managed to arrive exactly at the time when he was having his outburst.”

“It's fine.” Your head hung low as you played with your fingers in your lap. Hannibal noticed, writing it down in his little mental diary he'd kept in his head. “I don't understand why he behaved the way he did. It was, upsetting.”

You mumbled the last word, shaking your head. Hannibal glanced your way. “You were under Bedelia's care, no?”

By now, you'd come to know that the two were friends and knew each other. But deep down you hoped that they hadn't discussed you like some curse, like some ugly freak who magically survived a cruel man while her friend got swallowed.

“Yes.” You whispered. “Her ways to heal the human mind are, peculiar.”

To be honest, Bedelia seemed like a woman who cared more about the influence and power she had on you than your well-being and that feeling of forced incompetence along with other things became the reason of your end with her.

Hannibal chuckled, barely.

It was just there and you heard it for a single moment. “Did you not find her treatment appropriate?”

“I didn't deem her fit to be my doctor,” you picked at the skin around your nails out of habit. “honestly, I don't find anyone fit to be my doctor.”

There was silence.

But Hannibal soon spoke. “Could the feeling that only you're capable of understanding your mind because of you going through what you did be the cause of this?”

Jesus, the man was spot on.

It slightly unnerved you.

“Are you analyzing me, Dr. Lecter?” There was soft sarcasm your voice was laced with as you smiled.

The man stared straight ahead. “Maybe, would you mind allowing me to analyze you at my office over a glass of wine?”

You knew you couldn't go back to your lonely house, especially after the remnants of Will’s behavior affecting you the way they did. The sound of his palms slamming down on the wood echoed in the back of your mind and you had no other option than to agree to Hannibal’s offer.

But poor you, it was all part of his plan.

He'd read your file, thoroughly, well aware of your triggers and your mind. How it worked, processed things, he knew it all and the wicked man used it to his advantage. To lure you in like a prince charming only to shift into a hideous beast.

When you made it to his office, the man had offered you the finest of wine. The most expensive one, all the way from Florence and you could practically taste italy in the bottle — delicious, warm and fruity. You reveled in each sip as you sat across the man on his table, flipping through a book about the human mind.

You enjoyed reading books, found solace in them and Hannibal had all the more to offer.

“I can't believe you've got these many books.” You pointed out, lifting your eyes up at the man who was now coming down from the ladder with multiple books in his arms. It was sweet how he was offering you his book, his wine, his company because somewhere he knew you needed it.

Loneliness was a slow death.

Poison so bitter but painful, it tore you apart piece by piece.

He ambled his way towards you, taking a seat on the chair and placing the books right in front of you on the table. “These are nothing. I own a library too.”

Your eyes widened. “You're kidding.”

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat at how your eyes expanded in sheer shock, his lips expressing a small smile. You seemed akin to a child in that moment, innocent and appalled by the idea.

“No, dear. I'm fortunately not.” He replied, hands settled on the table. “I could take you there.”

“I'd love to go.” You were quick to reply back but then composed yourself a little, not wanting to come across as desperate. You began coursing through the book, reading the contents of it simultaneously sipping your wine.

Then Hannibal spoke. “You seem disturbed, dear.”

You stopped reading and looked at him, with a confused expression before realizing what he meant. Will’s behavior had left you in a great deal of confusion as well as underlined fear. It was stomach churning, when you remembered how dark his eyes were or how angry he appeared. All too similar to the fragments of the man that had abducted you during you childhood.

“He reminded me of him.” You blunted out, not really caring anymore to conceal your emotions and fears. It had to be how vulnerable you were seeming, craving human companionship and attention. To be comforted and reassured that nothing was wrong with you.

Hannibal leaned forward. “Of who?”

“The man who took me.” Your fingertip danced over the stamped ink on the beige piece of paper, gaze following along the letters and lines. “Every aggressive man reminds me of him.”

“Your fear of aggressive men stems from your childhood, as one had taken you. It is no surprise you'd feel uneasiness in Will’s presence now.” Hannibal was right. These heightened emotions of fear and discomfort would only consume you if you continued seeing Will in the light that he had presented himself in.

He was your friend. Your best friend, the man who was always there — to be your paddle and to be your pillar but now you were scared of him. Of everything, the whole situation to stay away from Hannibal. You were right in his office and so far, he had brought you no harm at all.

Only provided you with company.

“He told me to stay away from you.” The lump in your throat began to grow. If you had a gut feeling, it had definitely melted in the presence of Hannibal. Blinded by his charm and his long blonde strands hovering over his forehead. “It was confusing, Dr. Lecter. It was— too much. He repeated it like a broken record, over and over again. Ordered me even and I don't understand why he was telling me to be this cautious when you're his psychiatrist.”

Hannibal and you made eye contact, for a brief moment before you averted your gaze from him, lacking the courage to look straight into his penetrating eyes.

“Will is unstable.” Hannibal stated, as he caressed his own hand with the fingers of the other. “I have no intention to ruin the camaraderie you both have but his attempt to kill me tells me enough about his mind.”

Your eyes expanded.

Will tried to do what?

And the fact that Hannibal seemed so unbothered about it and continued seeking him as a patient. It was like Bedelia’s case all over again, except hers actually ended meanwhile Hannibal continued giving Will his time and effort.

“But why? I don't get it and you're still seeing him—just, what is going on?” Stressed and frustrated, feeling like you were being kept in the dark, you brought your fingers upto your forehead and began massaging it. It was too much for you, especially when you had your own battles to fight.

Hannibal reached for you, his own hand placed above yours. In silent comfort. “Will is my friend, or so I see him as one. He's unstable and his acts of impulsivity are my responsibility to fix although—”

He stopped and tilted his head. “I can see it is beginning to affect you too.”

You sighed, as you didn't remove your hand from underneath his. Only watching him with a gaze clouded in confusion. This was all like plates shattering over and over on the top of your head and still there is no bleeding, only the throbbing pain that increased with time.

Maybe Hannibal was right.

He was his doctor after all. Will appeared unstable, especially after his behavior tonight and the complexity of the situation terrified you.

“It is humiliating to be flesh.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you finished all your wine. The sound of Hannibal’s chair scraping against the floor caught your attention and you watched as he rose up from his seat and walked towards you. In his hand was a sketchbook that he'd retrieved from his table.

He stood next to you, placing the sketchbook over your book and then leaning down. The close proximity should've made you uncomfortable, should've sent you scurrying out of his office but because of how gentle he was, you didn't budge. “Open it.”

Your fingers with a subtle tremor in them reached for the crisp edge of the sketchbook and you flipped it open revealing the art of pencils. Humans, bodies, organs, they were all presented to beautifully and you looked up at Hannibal.

Face a few inches apart.

“You made this?”

He nodded.

You flipped through a few more and resisted the urge to caress the face of the greek personalities he'd drawn. They were so beautiful, as beautiful as him and you didn't find yourself uncomfortable like how you expected you would when laying eyes upon the more —gruesome part of his art.

It was beautiful.

“This is truly spectacular.” You commented in a whisper as you raised your stare from the sketches and looked up at him. Your lips were only a few inches apart and Hannibal found himself completely captivated by you. The sheer vulnerability and raw pain in your gaze was tugging him towards his arousal, undeniable and strong for you.

He swallowed as his dark eyes took in the sight of your lips.

And you repeated his actions, staring at his lips in return.

It all happened too fast. He'd kissed you, hand reaching to brush the hair behind your shoulder, then moving to grasp your face in it as he delved deeper. Hannibal was holding back so much, concealing the animal that he was from you, hiding beneath the cloak of a gentle demeanor and a beautiful face. His thumbs swiped over your cheek in gentle brush strokes as he pried your lips open, inserting his tongue.

Draping it around your own, the kiss grew intense and this was the first time you'd ever gotten involved with a man like this. It was too inundating but it also felt extremely good as you had denied yourself this pleasure for so long.

Hannibal’s hands slithered down to your waist, to circle around it curve of it as he raised you from the chair, lifting you up to place you down on the table. Still your height couldn't accommodate with his, neck craned up to kiss him. He soon broke the kiss, forehead pressed against yours as his warm breath mingled with yours.

“It is not humiliating to be flesh, rather special and profound.” He whispered, in response to your sentence from earlier as you gazed up at him. Eyes clouded by desire as your heart swelled with finally feeling like you were being understood. Hannibal understood you.

The connection you felt with him was intense.

The man leaned, and you expected him to kiss you again but this time he chose to attack your neck, peppering kisses all over the unmarked skin. His hands rested by your side, fingers digging into the wooden desk to keep the monster inside him at bay. He was too overwhelmed by his wanton for you but you were a fragile little thing.

He couldn't scare you, not yet.

His teeth dug into your skin, biting and tugging like some beast and you winced in response. It felt good but it was something you hadn't tried with anyone before. You've had sex before— one boy and he was nowhere near the same level as Hannibal. Just by biting on your skin, the man had you squirming.

“If Will finds out—”

He silenced you by pressing a finger on your lips. “Will shouldn't care. You're a mature, independent, grown woman. You know what you want, don't you?”

You nodded.

He was treating you like an adult, rather than some broken little doll. But that was Hannibal’s play, he knew that you craved the validation, you wanted to get treated like an adult and not some damaged person. After being in therapy, people almost treated you as you were some mentally unstable person who didn't know what she wanted. A broken, deranged person that didn't know better.

Hannibal made you feel differently, in such a short amount of time.

“So beautiful.” He whispered, as his fingers moved to the buttons of your dress. He unbuttoned each, swiftly proving that he was an experienced man and then his hands rose up to your shoulders, slipping the dress off and exposing the bare skin.

Your breath hitched and in a couple of minutes, Hannibal had completely rid you of any clothes. His own blazer soon came off, followed by his tie and then his shirt. Before you could reach for the buckle of his dress pants, he scoped you up in his arms and took you over to the couch. Lips pressed against yours, he bit harshly on your lower lip, enough to draw blood and somehow you enjoyed this aggressive manner of his kissing.

He laid you down on the couch and crawled on top of you, his knee settled between your thighs. You whimpered upon contact with his clothed knee as he traveled down, while leaving kissing against your skin, face buried between your thighs. The man held you open to his lascivious gaze, pressing a soft kiss against your clit causing you to shudder. Your thighs twitched in response and he loved how your body responded to his touch.

You were a delicious fucking sight.

He licked a long stripe across your cunt and your back lifted off the couch in anticipation. Hannibal pushed you back down, both his hands holding you firmly down on the couch, his arm prying your thighs further open. Closing his lips around your clit, he sucked feverishly and you cried out. It felt too fucking good.

One hand released you, dropping between your legs. His fingers ran up and down your cunt, coating themselves in the slick of your arousal and then slowly, he added a finger into you. He was gentle with it and stared up at you, mouth still continuing its assault on your clit while holding eye contact. Tears danced on your waterline, waiting for that one single push to slide down in rivulets on your face.

His finger picked up its pace then he added another. Your wet walls clung tightly onto his fingers, pulling them in and he reveled in all the little sounds you and your body kade. The whimpers you released, the wet sounds of your greedy pussy and the ragged breathing escaping you.

“How do you feel, Darling? How good am I making you feel with just my mere fingers?”

Hannibal’s voice had fallen a few octaves lower, deep and rough. You parted your lips open to speak but the wicked man curved his finger and your lips only let out a gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. He grinned at your reaction. “Answer me.”

You swallowed down another whine threatening to run out of your throat. “It feels amazing, Hannibal. Just —so good.”

He added a third finger and curved them altogether, hitting them against the little sponge of pleasure inside you, rapidly and with increasing speed. Your hands traveled down to grip on his golden strands, fisting them as he continued licking across your cunt and fucking you with his fingers.

Then he stopped.

Dropping all his movement.

His tongue replaced his fingers causing you to buck your hips in anticipation and need, aching for more. Hannibal was feasting on you and he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He was beyond it. Not possessing any sort of self control anymore.

Fingernails digging into the side of your hips, he dragged them down into your skin as he hungrily ate you out. Tongue plunging in and out of your tiny hole, licking and savoring the taste of you. You were fucking sweet, heavenly and delicious. Hannibal’s mind was clouded by his lust, his ache for you. How he wished he could trap you inside thess walls of his office, of his home and never let you out ever again.

Even the sun and moon didn't deserve to capture the sight of you.

“Hannibal, I'm close.” You whined, thighs shaking as your stomach churned with a foreign feeling. It was going to be fucking intense, you knew it because of how much you were shaking.

He looked up at you. “Come for me, Darling. Make a mess.”

Your stomach clenched and twisted at his words and you soon unfurled underneath him. Thighs suffering from perpetual convulsions and eyes seeing white, rolling to the back of your head. Blood pumping in your chest, spreading like wildfire in your veins as your forehead perspired. The searing pain from your tight grip on his hair only hardened his cock, as it stirred against his thighs. Hannibal reveled in the pain you inflicted upon him.

He rose up from between your legs and your overstimulated pussy throbbed at the sight of him. Your orgasm dripped down his chin, plump lips glossy and covered in the juices you'd produced. Face messy and flushed, he stared back at you with a hazy look in his darkened eyes.

When you came down from your high, you found Hannibal completely naked. Long gone were his dress pants and underwear and your were taken aback at the length of his cock as well as the girth. The first and last time you slept with someone, their size was nowhere the same as Hannibal. The drastic change was slightly overwhelming for you, it even terrified you a little.

He took a seat on the couch, at the end of your feet and then pulled you up, settling you on top of his thighs. Holding you in his muscular arms, the man held the tip of his cock against your hole and then slowly sat you down.

You head fell against his shoulder, face buried in his neck. Being able to feel him like this, sinking all the way down to the hilt, you could only whimper. Hannibal made you feel so full and it was only the beginning.

You felt his fingers trapping your cheeks between them, as he pulled your face out of its hiding spot. Four fingers resting on one side while his thumb squeezed the other. Tears sprung out, sliding across your cheeks and crashing into his digits. You sniffled as he stared at you. Eyes lacking emotions and face still. Hannibal was a man who possessed immense control over himself, he couldn't give away his obsession for you.

“You will look at me.” He commanded, voice thick with need. “As I fuck your little cunt and make you unravel on my cock, you will not move your gaze away from me. Understood?”

You could only nod.

His grip tightened on your cheeks and you winced, lips forming a forced pout. You knew what that little act meant and you parted your lips, managing to mumble out, “Yes, I understand.”

Hannibal nodded, satisfaction glimmering in his dark eyes as he released your face. Both hands now settled on your hips, he began to move you up and down with your help. You gasped every time you felt his cock graze against your wet wells, the feeling consuming your ability to think. Your nails managed to draw blood from his skin but Hannibal didn't care. He wanted you to leave more marks, brand him as his, make him yours.

Oh he was already yours.

“Move, Darling.” You started to move too, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down on him. Over and over again, it was repetitive and Hannibal’s face was full of pleasure. His grip tight and firm on your hips, almost as if he were trying to seperate the flesh from the bone.

But you liked it.

He held you like he didn't want you to disappear.

You fucking loved that.

You both stared into each other's eyes, Hannibal’s domineering stare overpowering yours an you nearly made the grave mistake of shutting your eyes but the little pinch on your waist made you peel them back open as fast as you closed them.

“Don't be disobedient now. I expected better from you.” You could sense the disappointment in his voice and you shook your head, still riding his cock and clenching around him everytime you felt his tip bruise your sensitive spot.

You stared at him, through a blurred vision. “You're intimidating—” You sputtered, the sentence breaking. “when you stare at me like this, its intimidating.”

“Do I scare you?”

You shook your head. “No, you're beautiful.”

That was enough to cause Hannibal to become a mess. Fuck, he was all over the place and unfortunate enough for you, you couldn't see it but the man was a mess on the inside. The skipped beating of his heart, the way his eyes were almost turned into little crescents, the smile lines appearing for a split moment before vanishing.

You felt him press his lips against yours, this time in a rough kiss. Arms circled tightly around you. He kissed you like a wild beast having its feast, enjoying its food. His teeth grazed against yours when you opened your mouth, lips against lips, tongue dancing with tongue. Salivas mixing together, it was too messy and you felt the mixed saliva dripping down your chin. He lapped at your wet muscle, sucking on it.

All the while he slammed you down on his hard cock and you let out a high pitched whine into his mouth. That action alone was enough for his cock to harden even more inside you, his hands now unwrapping from your waist and toying with your bare breasts.

“Such a tight little pussy—” He grunted, head thrown back. “so fucking tight.”

Fingers rolling your nipples between them, tugging and massaging the soft flesh. The searing kiss, the sensitive touch of his fingers against your breasts, the slow and rough thrusts of his cock — all of it combined pulled you near another orgasm.

Your toes curled at each thrust and then Hannibal switched the position, laying you down on the couch and getting on top of you with his cock still inside you. Grabbing you by your ankles, he placed them on his shoulders and began to fuck you at an animalistic pace.

“Hanni—" You cried out, lips agape and tears continuously falling down.

He didn't stop. His bangs were sticking to his forehead, a snarl making its way to his face and that was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. To the point it made you tighten around him. “You're mine. You're mine to fuck, mine to claim, mine to own and possess.”

You took those words as something said in the heat of the moment but Hannibal? Oh he was serious. He meant each and every word, every syllable came straight from the darkness in his heart.

His hips snapped and your stomach went crazy into knots. “Please, please. Harder, please Hannibal.”

You were crying out for him at this point. Your hand reaching out to touch his chest but he didn't allow you, grabbing both of your hands and pinning them above your head on the couch. Bending your knees to the point they were pushed against your chest, his face grew closer to yours. Staring deeply into your soul and that moment felt intimate more than anything you'd ever experienced in the world.

“My pretty Darling.”

You swallowed.

Just his dark gaze. You could live your whole life while being captured in those obsidian eyes.

Snaps growing relentless, he kept fucking you till you came all over his cock. Your orgasm slipping out in the form of liquid, making a mess everywhere. Staining his couch, his chest, his cock. Leaving evidence of the sexual encounter between the two of you in a moment. Hannibal let out a chuckle — deep and soft. Music from heaven to your ears.

You almost ascended to heaven from how good it felt. His cock still thrusting up against your cervix, bruising your spot and continuing its assault. Your sensitive body hadn't even calmed down, still twitching and shivering but Hannibal didn't seem it fit to stop.

A low growl rumbled from his chest as the sound of skin against skin grew, reverberating against the walls of his office. With a loud groan, he also spilled inside you. Coating your walls white, throbbing and pulsating inside you. Filling you up to the brim and he didn't care if you were to get pregnant.

Hannibal was a father once.

To his little sister Mischa.

He wouldn't mind having a child of his own, especially with you.

He fucking loved filling you up and he'd make sure to do it again. After all, you were his now.

The man slowly adjusted himself underneath you on the couch, making you lay on top of his to the side. Arms wrapping tightly around you, he held you pressed against his chest as you came down from your high. His hand brushing your hair gently, caressing your forehead.

Only the fire crackling in the fireplace could be heard, mixed with the soft uneven rhythms of your breathing. You couldn't believe you'd slept with Hannibal, right after your best friend had a literal outburst about it. Guilt took over and you slowly sat up, grabbing Hannibal’s shirt from the floor to cover yourself up with it.

“You're thinking.” He commented.

You looked at him and sighed. “I have this guilt consuming me.”

Hannibal reached over, brushing your hair behind. Playing with the strands. “Why's that?”

“Will is unstable, and I have been there too. I should have heard him out instead of running away from him.” You sighed, shoulders slumped. Hannibal didn't like that, he didn't like that you were feeling bad now. After all he'd done, he couldn't have you feeling bad for Will.

“You reacted according to your trauma, it is completely valid. You were in a situation where you didn't feel safe, so you removed yourself from it.” Thumb caressing against your cheek, he smiled. It was subtle. “You should prioritize yourself more often.”

Somewhere Hannibal was right too.

You leaned against his chest, closing your eyes. Then you felt a stinging sensation in the back of your nape. It hurt but it wasn't extreme, like something had pierced you. Just then you looked up and saw Hannibal already staring at you.

Your vision became distorted.

“Hannibal..?” You called out, confused and in a daze. “What's happening?”

“Go to sleep, Darling. You'll be alright soon enough.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and fear filled you up. Just what was happening? The man held you in his embrace, caressing your cheek as you slowly lost all control of your limbs and fell against his chest.

Darkness dragged you in, from your feet and the last thing you remembered was seeing Hannibal with a syringe in his hand.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Reptilia - Caprimulgiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

As we move into the Strisores clade, our next order are the Caprimulgiformes, commonly known as “nightjars”, “bugeaters”, or “nighthawks”. Caprimulgiformes is composed on one family, Caprimulgidae, and 19 genera.

Nightjars are medium-sized nocturnal or crepuscular birds, characterised by long pointed wings, short legs with small feet, and short beaks at the tip of a large mouth. Their primary source of food are night-flying insects, and they fill a similar role to insect-eating bats. Nightjars usually catch their prey by flying through insects with their wide mouths open. They have soft, cryptic plumage, allowing them to camouflage against trees while they sleep during the days. They have rictal bristles around their beak which function similarly to whiskers. Nightjars live on all continents except Antarctica, and some islands, in almost all habitats aside from the most arid deserts.

Nightjars are generally solitary, but will form flocks for the purpose of migration and/or for mating displays. They usually nest on the ground, laying one or two patterned eggs directly onto bare ground. It has been suggested and quoted that nightjars can move their eggs and chicks from the nesting site in the event of danger by carrying them in their mouths, but there is little evidence to support this idea. The nocturnal and secretive nature of nightjars makes it hard to study their behavior. It is unknown whether nightjars mate for life, but they are monogamous for the duration of the mating season.

Strisores have a well-represented fossil record, with fossils of most major strisorean lineages known from the Paleogene. Strisores evolved in the Eocene, with its two main extant lineages separating about 60–55 million years ago. At around 40 mya, the common ancestors of Caprimulgidae and Nyctibiidae diverged from those of the oilbird and frogmouths.

Propaganda under the cut:

The Common Poorwill (Phalaenoptilus nuttallii) is one of the only birds that undergoes a form of hibernation, becoming torpid and with a much reduced body temperature for weeks or months. Other nightjars can also enter a state of torpor, but for shorter periods.

The European Nightjar (Caprimulgus europaeus) is also known as the Common Goatsucker. This, along with their genus name, refers to an old myth that it would suckle from goats at night, causing them to cease to give milk. (Nightjars do not do this)

Nightjars have a reflective tapetum lucidum at the back of their eyes, causing their eyes to “glow” when lit up at night.

Nightjars do almost everything on the wing, including eating and drinking.

Several comic book heroes use the pseudonym “nighthawk”, including the detective Nelson Lee in “The Nelson Lee Library”, a Harvey Comics superhero, the cowboy Hannibal Hawkes in the DC Comics Universe, and several characters within the Marvel Comics Universe. In fact, there is an abundance of media using the name “nighthawk”, from art pieces, to films, to music, to sports teams, to racehorses, to aircraft, motorcycles, firearms, and amusement park rides. It’s possible that many of the people using this name only know that the nighthawk is a nocturnal bird, and not so much that it’s a small, big-mouthed, insect-eater.

[honeygrahambitch]

"He is...he is..." Will said as he looked at the pictures taken at the crime scene. "Frustrated. He is not trying hard to impress with his murder spree, he is angry and he wants to draw our attention, it's not his design that matters, it's... something else." Will added as he paced back and forth in Hannibal's dining room, trying to put together everything he knew. "He is feeling...fuck if I know."

Hannibal sighed softly and started arranging the pictures into a pile.

"I am not done, let me pull myself together." He said as he rubbed his eyes with his palms.

"It's more than enough for tonight." Hannibal replied and as soon as ge gathered the pictures he headed towards Will and placed a hand on his forehead.

Will did not try to escape his touch.

"You're burning."

"One of my dogs got lost last night and I went to look for him. It was cold."

"Why didn't you stay home today? You could have come here, I would have cooked for you and made sure you are actually taken care of." Hannibal said and realized he might have overstepped.

"I can take care of myself."

Hannibal arched an eyebrow in a loving way. He sighed relived when Will laughed.

"As self-reliant as I am, when I was driving to work this morning I considered just coming straight to you. And I know you would have hidden me from Jack Crawford."

Hannibal's heart skipped a beat. Will had wanted to seek shelter in his home.

"I would definitely have. Why didn't you?"

"I can't just run away from work whenever I feel like it." Will said as he tapped the edge of the table with his fingers. He was fidgeting. "Besides, you can't plan your life around my problems."

What if he would just inform him that all his problems paled when it came to him? He would indeed abandon everything if Will needed something from him.

"I can certainly try. I made pancakes this morning." Hannibal said, earning another smile from Will. "Just know that I could never mind your unplanned visits."

"Thank you. If you did, you would be the worst husband in the world, anyway."

"I already feel like the worst husband in the world since we are living in two different states, darling. The least I can do is to make sure you don't ignore your fever."

"I believe the most beautiful aspect of our relationship is that we get to keep it just for us. I don't want them to know." he said, referring to Jack, Alana, Chilton, Freddie Lounds even. "They don't deserve to know."

The last sentence melted Hannibal. Even though he would have preferred to tell everyone about the fact that he has the most wonderful husband in the world, he agreed to Will's perspective. Those people really did not deserve to know. Not only because of the judgmental glances, neither of them cared about that. It was the fact that they wouldn't understand.

"Did you find your dog?"

"Yes. So stupid. Found him with a frozen squirrel. He was quite disappointed that I wasn't impressed."

"I get just as excited about my prey."

"You do." Will agreed. "I hate to say this but would it make you happier if I spent the night here?"

Hannibal thought he hadn't heard it well. He grabbed Will's hand and held it to his chest, as if he was trying to check if he had been indeed genuine.

"So you get to take care of me. And I don't feel like the worst husband in the world. And you too."

"Then neither of us is the worst in the world. Yes, that would make me very happy." Hannibal left a kiss on Will's hand.

One day I might stop driving back to my place, Will thought as for a second, the simple thought of making this man happy felt enough.

[beauspot]

Good Omens Is a Big Deal

With everything going on I haven’t acknowledged how grateful I am for what Neil (and John) did this season. I always saw Good Omens as a romantic story and everyone involved seemed to be super supportive of that. To actually see a follow through on those themes was wonderful though. To see Aziraphale continue to look at Crowley like he’s the earth, the moon, and the stars. To see Crowley continue to save his angel not because he needs them to, but because they love him.

To see them have their dinners, and give the other access to their prized possessions. To see them dance. They love each other. They are in love with each other and it’s not implied or a throwaway line that can be edited out.

It’s the beating heart at the center of the story.

And they weren’t meant to be. Neil himself will tell you when he and Terry wrote the book Aziraphale and Crowley were meant to be friends and that’s it. Over time their relationship evolved and where a lot of writers would simply ignore that and keep pushing forward Neil pivoted and said “you know what? let’s see where this goes.” The last time I can remember something like this happening was with Hannibal years ago, it’s so rare with queer pairings.

I know everyone was excited about the kiss and it is refreshing to see queer people actually get to kiss, it’s still not something that happens all the time, but that’s not what made them canonically queer to me. If they remained completely asexual and never kissed or showed interest in kissing one another I’d feel the same. While I always felt they were queer what sealed it for me were 3 things:

1. Nina and Maggie, a romantic pairing that parallel our angel and demon break down to Crowley how she and Aziraphale are partners (and it’s clear they don’t mean business partners, does Crowley look like he runs a bookshop?) but they never say what they’re really thinking. They go on to state how that’s all they needed, the obvious implication here being that Nina and Maggie shared their romantic feelings with one another and that Crowley and Aziraphale need to do the same. Upon hearing this Crowley takes that as a sign to confess his feelings.

2. Gabriel and Beelzebub, another pairing that parallels Crowley and Aziraphale who are also clearly in love with one another is something Crowley references while he is confessing his feelings. “If those two lovestruck idiots can go off together, so can we. Because I love you.”

3. Crowley and Aziraphale express plainly to each other that they need the other. Crowley says to Aziraphale he wants to stop pretending they aren’t a team, a group, a them.

Aziraphale says verbatim “We can be together.” and “I need you.” He doesn’t say “We can work together” or “I need you to help me” or some other cop out that a lot of other shows or movies might come up with to continue to bait their fans, while having plausible deniability.

They love each other and it’s not platonic.

To me, the kiss serves as a way to seal the deal for people who only understand queer love when it’s punching them in the face. That’s not to say queer people can’t like the kiss, it’s one of my favorite scenes in the show simply because of how heartbreaking it is, but they were a couple to me long before that. And to add onto that by making every other important pairing in the show queer as well? Nina and Maggie being happy sapphics who don’t die at the end. They’re not together, but the implication is that one day they will be. Two non-binary beings—Gabriel and Beelzebub—falling in love and choosing to be with one another forever. The angels and demons are all genderless and no one misgenders them and no one gives a FUCK.

That means so much to me and I genuinely cannot express how thankful I am that this show and this season were made. The only thing I can say is thank you for standing for something, because not everyone does.

[shegatsby]

Okay I just had an amazing idea! Imagine reader as Hannibals patient and both of them meeting in an online portal similar to tattle crime where you can chat privately, they start talki g and develop like a relationship but for the sake of their identities they keep their real names out of the chat when one day the reader texts hannibal that they're at the psychiatrists office with a picture of the floor attatched, Hannibal obviously realizes its the floor of the waiting room, during the session he acts like nothing happened but at the end of their session hannibal adresses the reader by their username. The rest is up to you!

A/N: Hi, thank you for this request I really loved the idea. I changed it a bit because we all know that Hannibal would never leave anything to chance, of course he is gonna stalk you babe ;)

Warnings: Stalking.

Words: 1.442K

It was late in the evening, Baltimore’s  cold weather made you stay under your fuzzy blankets with a hot cup of tea. Your laptop on your lap, you logged onto your account in Tattle Crime. It was a blog about your city’s newest crimes, recently you have been on that blog a lot, there was a serial killer on the loose, people were wither sharing info or commenting about the gruesome  murders. Everyone was talking about the ‘’Chesapeake Ripper’’ you’ve always been interested in serial killer’s mindsets so Tattle Crime was a useful blog on that to feed your curiosity, how you were oblivious to what’s to come…

You read some articles which compares the Chesapeake Ripper to other serial killers and you left a comment under it, saying that comparing is false, because he is something we have never seen before etc. It was your honest opinion, his killings and presentation of the bodies were more meticulously sophisticated. You referred to the killer as ‘’him’’ due to the fact that most serial killers were male.

You opened a new tab and surfed on the internet, you were watching your favorite old Hollywood movie when you had a notification from Tattle Crime. The blog had dm box so that users could communicate which you never used before but someone sent you a text. The user didn’t have their name, their handle was ‘’Botticeli’’ the last name of the famous painter, Sandor Botticelli, your handle was ‘’Hekate’’ the witch goddess. You didn’t like putting your real name out there and appearently so did the person who messaged you.

‘’I am interested in your thoughts regarding the Chesapeake Ripper, I would love to hear more if that is convenient for you.’’

It was strange but you loved to chat about your favorite topics, since you weren’t busy you decided to text back.

‘’Hello, of course. I would love to chat about him, he is such an enigma.’’ You sent and waited, for some reason your hands went cold, you had a strange sensation in your stomach.

You had messaged a stranger online for 4 hours, the conversation was vibrant and it was obvious that the guy you were texting was knowledgeable, you learned that he was a 40 year old man, living in Baltimore, you told him your age, you were at university, you and him respected each others’ private life so not much info were exchanged other than nice conversation about art, literature and murder. Later you said your good nights and you turned off your laptop and went to bed straight, you had morning classes.

It was snowing, you had dark circles under your eyes but you made effort in your appearance, you wore a nice winter dress with long boots, hair tied and a light make up to cover the tiredness. In the mean time Doctor Hannibal Lecter was on his office, getting ready for his patient. He was facing his laptop’s screen, on the screen he had information you, thanks to his work with the FBI he had privileged access to get peoples info. He learned your address, university, your Instagram, everything. He decided to message you again.

You were at the cafeteria, eating and looking at your notes when you got a notification, the stranger you had a nice conversation with last night messaged you again. ‘’I apologies for keeping you up so late last night, I hope you had some sleep, good morning.’’

You couldn’t help but smile, he was formal yet you could sense some kind of kindness and concern.

‘’Hey, no need to apologies. I enjoyed our conversation last night. Morning!’’

For days you messaged back and forth, everyday without being to open, he told you his day, and you told him about your day, over the days you learned his habits, he was an early bird, loved to read and keep his mind busy, he also mentioned the dinner parties he throws every once in a while. You were intrigued, but kept your cool.

After a month you were having mental problems, your assignments were too much and you had some problems from your past, ever since you mentioned your problems he was being more kinder than usual, he was giving you affirmations such as;

‘’You are a smart girl, you can do it.’’

‘’I believe in your abilities.’’

You liked the way he talked to you. Neither of you asked for a phone number or even an email address which felt safe.

One day he suggested that you should see a psychiatrist, since he had access to your university he could see your grades and they were dropping and he didn’t like that. He wanted you to succeed.

He sent you a list of psychiatrists and made some recommendations, you were falling into his trap and he was enjoying it, he wanted to see you and this was the opportunity. You said you would think about it and in order to give you some time he said it was okay.

When you had a melt down while studying you decided to think about Botticelli’s list of psychiatrist and you sent a mail to the Doctor writing that you needed an urgent session, thankfully Doctor Lecter replied quickly, you were too busy to notice how odd it was to reply to you in a minute. He wrote that tomorrow at 6 would be convenient for him, it was convenient for you too because your classes end at 5 pm. Of course he knew that and you would be his last patient of the day.

After your classes you got on the bus and went to the Doctor’s office. You clung to your long coat and walked into the building, the warmth welcomed you, there was a desk but no secretary was in the view, you knocked on the grey door and waited, your heart beating at a rapid speed.

A tall man opened the door, his three piece suit made him look intimidating, he was standing proud and tall.

‘’Miss Y/L/N I presume?’’ he questioned, his maroon eyes scanning you, he was really good at hiding his excitement, there you were, the woman he had been messaging over a month was standing right before him. ‘’Dr. Lecter, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’’ You extended your hand and he gladly took it, he noticed how soft your hands were, there was a certain feeling in his chest, ‘’Please come in.’’

His office was grand, the fire place was lit which gave the room a cozy feeling and yet it resembled the museum, formal. You sat on the leather armchair and he sat opposite with his leather notebook and silver pen. He started the conversation, as he was speaking he made notes of her manners and behavior, you had a simple jeans and a black top, even though your outfit was normal Hannibal found you elegant like a swan.

During your session you had a feeling as if you have met him before, he was kind but his voice and his demeanor made you think before you speak, thankfully he made you comfortable by talking art and literature, his replies sounded familiar, you thought as if you were talking to your new online friend.

‘’Dr. Lecter, I must say I’m here because one of my friends recommended you to me.’’ You confessed, ‘’Oh, did your friend ever came to me before for a session?’’ he asked looking curious as if he wasn’t about to reveal himself to you.

‘’No, I mean I’m not sure, he is an online friend so..’’ you replied shortly, looking around.

‘’Oh really, Hekate?’’

You froze, did he just addressed you by your username on Tattle Crime?

‘’I-I’m sorry..?’’ you stuttered, you must have heard it wrong.

He placed the notebook and pen on the nearby table and stood up, fixing his clothes he came up to you, you had to look up, he extended his hand to you, ‘’Botticelli,’’ he said, ‘’Nice to finally meet you in person, I must say, I didn’t expect such a beauty, your intellect matches your divine face.’’

Your first reaction was to get up and run to the door, it was locked.

You turned to face him, his hands in his pockets, he was smiling ear to ear, ‘’You wound me Hekate, I thought you liked me.’’ he started to walk to you, your back pressed to the locked door, he stood before you, one of his hands found your heated cheek, with the back of his hand he caressed it gently, ‘’Do not be afraid, all I want is for you to be mine.’’

[axokoi]

"The warmth of your hand in mine, and your voice—if I awoke, the last of them would disappear" - Our Light

Happy 2/2 akeshu nation. Symbolism of everything under the cut ⬇️

If you're here, buckle up, there's a lot that went into this drawing when I was making it.

The whole pose they have is reminiscent of the pose from the trailer when akechi and akira/ren are laying on the gems, especially with how only akira is smiling whereas akechi only looks like he is initially. However, there's something special with how they're both sleeping. Akira is much more open and relaxed, he's laying on his back, and mostly in the sun, he has people he knows and who cherish him- but obviously he still faces towards the dark, where akechi is. (this is 100% a reference to the cut ending of hannibal where hannigram sit in the church) Akira's hand that has the red string tied to it is relaxed as well too. However, with akechi, he is mostly shrowded in darkness save for the hand that's in the light- is this about how akira kept his promise to help akechi out in the end and showed akechi in the end, freedom? sure fucking is!! Same thing can be said with their outfits too, akechi has a button-up, even in his sleep, he still must seem composed and put-together, but akira has a t-shirt on instead, he doesn't need to act like he has his shit together. The whole red string is self-explanatory, they were fated to meet each other no matter what, as if tied by the red string of fate.

Also for the setting, it's as if they were in that perfect reality (where in the 3rd sem doesn't matter, up to your interpretation), they are laying atop bed sheets and in a slumber under the dreams of a perfect reality. (also the halo is just smth i have for all my drawings, akira has his own halo but it's a LOT less obvious)

[madsluvsdilfs]

New Beginnings

Will Graham x Reader

Words: 641

Warnings? Nope, all fluff

Will had a terrible day. Firstly, he woke up outside, a side effect of his recently developed sleepwalking, as well as being drenched in sweat. Then, of course, he had to go to work, which tired his mind out beyond imagination and all he wanted to do was go home to you. You, oh how he loved you. After the fall, after everything he had gone through with Hannibal, after nearly dying multiple times, Will decided he had enough. He left Maryland and moved to Florida, where he met you. He now has a job where he works on boats again, and has a quaint cabin near the beach where he lives with you and your rescue dogs.

Will never thought he would be able to love someone again, not after Alana or Molly, but he did. He does. He loves you. He loves your eyes that light up every time the dogs surround you both or the subtle way your nose scrunches up when you laugh. He walks through the front door, slipping off his shoes and coat where he's greeted by your many dogs.

He calls out your name but when he gets no reply, he's instantly worried. He checks everywhere, the living room, the kitchen, bathroom, the outdoor patio but nothing. Finally, he makes his way to the bedroom where he lets out a deep sigh. He sees you curled up on the bed, your back to the door as you hold Winston, his favourite dog (though he'd never tell the others, he's always had a soft spot for Winston) and his heart feels like it physically melts. He quietly and quickly changes out of his dirty work clothes into a plain grey shirt and his boxers before slipping in the bed behind you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest and presses a soft, barely noticeable kiss to your shoulder.

He feels you stir in his arms and he's quick to soothe you, rubbing your stomach and whispering sweet, reassuring words into your soft curls like ‘It's okay baby, it's only me’ and ‘You're safe, go back to sleep’ . Despite you being more asleep than you are awake, Will starts to recount his day. Just like he always does. No matter how boring his day was he always comes home, cuddles up with you and tells you about every single detail. While he's talking, he feels you rolling over, shifting to face him instead, leaving Winston to snore behind your back. Once he can finally see your face. he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, whispering a sweet ‘I love you’ against your skin, his words having a bigger meaning than you might ever realise.

When he says ‘I love you’ he doesn't mean it in the way that others do today. Not the way teenagers say it to their ‘lovers’ after knowing each other for a week, not the way a boyfriend might say to his girlfriend to get her to forgive him after an argument. No, Will means it like you're his whole world, which you are, he means it like without you, he wouldn't be able to breathe.

It doesn't take him long before he's driving off to sleep too, his mind racing with thoughts. All about you. How did he manage to get someone like you to like him? He was grumpy, a man hardened by the horrors of the world, but yet around you…oh, he was like an innocent puppy, wide eyes and always wanting to be close to you, always wanting to hear your sweet angelic voice. He would never know why you chose him, but he will spend every second that he's breathing, making sure you know just how thankful he is. But for tonight, he'll just settle with cuddling you.

I hope this drabble is okay, I just wanted to write something with soft Will. I know I reference the fall in this, and much to my upset I know it is unlikely that Will survived but I just want to imagine he does. I haven't really proof read this so I hope it makes some sense although I did write it half asleep so. I'm also not sure if this will get as much attention because my other fics have been Hayden focused but we'll see...Anyway, I hope you all enjoy lovelies!

[dilfdemolisher]

PERSEPHONE - CHAPTER ONE

“Persephone, queen of the underworld. Hades runs Hell, but she’s in charge of punishment.”

Series Summary: A serial killer who works with the police herself has a tumultuous past with Jack Crawford and his new profiler Will Graham. While trying to rebuild what she once broke Hannibal Lecter sticks himself in the middle of the few things she cares about. Comments and critiques are encouraged.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, tiny reference to reader being a murderer lol, brief mention of child death, body horror, murder, descriptions of torture, Jack and reader arguing and not shutting tf up.

Word Count: 3.7k

A series of loud knocks on your office door interrupt your typing. “Come in.”

Your face stays looking at your screen, continuing your rhythmic clicking of the keyboard. You know who it is; you can see his burly stature in your peripheral vision, not to mention the way you can feel the energy sucked out of your body the moment he walks into the room. A trait that he has unknowingly tortured you with, a trait that is distinctly-  “Jack.” You state, breaking the tension. 

“It's good to see you.” What the fuck does he need. 

“I’m writing up the blood report for the Anderson case. Give me… 25 minutes, it’ll be yours.” You say, briefly glancing at him. You see that look in his eyes; he needs something, and his gaze is too sympathetic for a request for a blood report, let alone a blood report for a case he has nothing to do with. 

“Could you take a moment?” He’s frustrated, or maybe embarrassed; your lack of interest is not leaning in his favour. A part of you blissfully believes that if you stay apathetic towards him, he’ll walk out of your office. Maybe he’ll stomp, leave the door open just to peeve you, but nonetheless, you’ll be left alone to continue to describe the direction of the arterial spatter left on the blue living room curtains that clashed against the yellow cigarette stained walls.

In the corner of your eye, you can see him move closer, taking four deliberate steps closer. But that's all it takes for his black suit to transform into navy blue and for his sour look on his face to become clear as he firmly places his calloused hand on your shoulder. 

“I-I need you.” He sighs. He’s letting me know that he’s putting himself in a vulnerable position and that he doesn't want to be here either. “Eight girls are missing with no bodies.”

Your fingers freeze over your keyboard and cease typing. “That's not my problem, Jack. No body, no blood, no me.” As much as you try to swallow your annoyed tone, it slips out of your mouth before you can sand it down to a polite, soft refusal.

He pulls his hand away. “Elise Nichols, 19. She was supposed to house sit for her parents and take care of their cat-” 

“I’m trying to finish something Jack-” 

He interrupts your interruption. “Same height, weight, age, eye colour, hair colour as all these missing INNOCENT girls, and you don't care?!” He’s trying to make you feel guilty, obligated. But why must he disrupt your workplace? 

With a deep inhale, you answer, glaring at the blue light emanating from your monitor. “I’m back to doing blood work, Jack. I left the business of profiling, and I already have things here I am obligated to do.” Like more paperwork and plans for the plastic wrap in your trunk.

“I talked to your lieutenant, and she's more than willing to alleviate you of any duties; there's people on the forensics team to tie everything over without you.” He tries to reason, and if anything frustrates you more that he talked to your boss first. He may have had the assumption that you would jump at the opportunity, that everything would be water under the bridge, and that you two would walk out of the building holding hands and skipping gleefully. Or maybe he would need to convince you, but the second he put his hand on your shoulder, you’d understand. That you two would look at each other and have a silent understanding of what must be done, that you’d forgive him, and that you would remove the burden off his shoulders and cradle against your heart.

“But they can’t do what I do, like I do.” You quip.

“Which is exactly why I need you, not even for the full run just…” He breaks off his sentence and drags a hand over his eyes. He inhales through his nose and out of his mouth in an attempt to ground himself. “We’re going to Minnesota tomorrow, and I’m asking you to join.”

Unfortunately, Jack hasn't changed much; he’s such a stubborn Taurus man. “And I’m declining. I’m not going to argue with you Jack. I’m sure this wasn't an easy thing to do or ask from me, and I’m sorry for disappointing you but I can’t do this. I’m not the same person anymore, and I’m not going to be helpful.” 

His expression softens with a margin of sympathy. You didn't think he was expecting you to acknowledge the elephant in the room; in all honesty, you weren't either. 

There's an uncomfortable silence laid across you both. It's his turn to speak, yet, he’s having trouble finding his words. “I doubt much has changed about you in what? 22 months?” He counters, It's a weak reply; he’s nearing his end of this discussion. He'll leave with his head hung low with the files still gripping his left hand, and you will continue typing up yours. 

“I don’t want to keep disagreeing with you Jack, but you keep making me and it's hurting my feelings. I don't want to do this.” It's your turn to be vulnerable, candour? No, but making it seem like he just tore the stitches off an open wound is the way to fast-track his guilt and exit. It’s time for you to sustain eye contact for the first time during this conversation. 

“I’m tired, Jack. I’m still trying to gather the missing pieces of who I was that broke off.” You plead with him. 

“So you break off all personal relationships you have, Will Graham.” I’m sorry, what about Will?

He said it to pique your interest, and he did. What an asshole. You can’t not ask how he’s doing. The itch to know how he’s been spending his days is an impossible thing not to scratch, plus, this is your best-no, least creepy way. You could find one of his students, email them, and ask how their professor seems to be doing. Ask if he’s gotten a new haircut. Glasses? A dog? That’s a completely normal thing to do. Or you could ask Alana. Fuck no. 

“You’ve been talking to Will?” You say before looking back towards your computer screen, you can’t help but be a bit ashamed of how easily he hooked you in. 

He spins the arm of your chair and spins it 90° to face him. “He’s assisting with this case.” 

You can feel the intensity of his gaze as he waits for your reaction. “I hate to sound narcissistic, but did he join you with the understanding that I would also be assisting?” You have to know if he’s still thinking of you. You know he’s not fond of Jack, so you can’t help but wonder why he agreed. 

He pops his chest out like a fucking bird, trying to assert dominance. “He’s not. We were meant to fly out tonight but I wanted to ask you first.” 

“You halted the investigation of a case to request my help?” He feels a sense of responsibility to help you; he still cares about you; or he is still guilty enough that he wants to right his wrongs. Maybe if you help him and save another girl's life per his request, all will be forgiven. But he’s still so career-driven that the only way your pain could be absolved would be work-related. You would have settled for a heartfelt apology; hell, you would have settled for a fruit basket if it meant his emotional harassment would cease.  

“That is immensely stupid. For someone who seems to be so invested in this case I find it ridiculous that you would halt an investigation for a one-ended conversation.”

Jack grunts out something unintelligible before grabbing his phone. 

“What?” You say, if he’s going to make a remark you’d rather it be audible instead of under his breath. 

“Would you like me to call Graham?” He says with pursed lips, tapping his finger on the side of his phone. He’s taunting you; you stay silent until he flips it open. 

You stand up and attempt to snatch the device out of his hand before he quickly pulls it out of your reach. “What the fuck is wrong with you Jack?!”

“What is wrong with YOU! You can prevent this girl's death and you’re not doing it because of what? Pride? I’m sure if you just read the files you would give valuable input!” He shouts. 

Now this is becoming a serious problem. “You do not get to come to my workplace and disrupt me and my coworkers.” You say sternly, and you jab a finger into his chest before continuing. “If you’d like me to read the files for your peace of mind, and for you to know that there's nothing I can add that you can't I will.”

“Then do it.” He growls. 

“Under one condition.” You add, “You take Will Graham off this case. Actually, you just leave him alone.”

He pauses for a moment, actually considering it. You can feel the tension in the room deflate as he contemplates the idea. “I-” He starts, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, but I can't do that. If you're not going to be involved in this case I need Graham.” He answers. 

You feel your heart fall to your stomach. Will shouldn't be working under Jack; he’s selfish and greedy when it comes to his agents. He’ll push Will, won’t listen to him when he asks to stop, and won’t force him to stop when he gets too immersed. 

“I’ll look at the case file and talk to you when I get off.” You say with an exhale, you can feel the tension in your neck. You turn your back to him and sit in your chair. “Leave it on my desk.”

He doesn't reply, but you can feel his stare. It's been silent for so long that you're about to say something, but he beats you to it. “Thank you.” He says so quickly that you're not even sure if it happened; before you can even look back at him, he walks out of your office. 

2 YEARS EARLIER

You hop out of your car onto the pavement, a street filled with police cars, no parking; you had to park down the street. The more steps you take, the more clearly you can see the spectacle in front of you. Press arguing with the police, concerned neighbours chatting to each other in between bites of their nails. You make your way in front of the house; it's no more than a one-bed, one-bathroom place. 

“This is a crime scene. I need you to leave; you can’t be on the property mam.” You hear from your right, and when you turn your head, you see an officer. 

“I’m forensics.” You say, walking past him and flashing your laminate, Does he just think you carry around this heavy ass bag and camera for fun?

The front door to the home opens slightly. Jack exits and immediately closes it behind him. As he turns around to scan the front yard, his eyes fall on you. “I need you in here now.” He shouts while pointing at you. If the audience outside of this house wasn't enough to convince you this is a bad one, Jack's tone does. 

The closer you get to him, the urgency in his body language becomes more apparent, his foot tapping on the wood below him. Once you make it to the steps on the porch, Jack begins to speak. 

“I’m going to need you to prepare yourself for this one; it's bad.” Well, there goes holding onto any hope.

“I’ve seen my fair share of 'bad'; I think I can handle it.” You say as you reach for the door knob, his hand on your wrist stops you. 

“I know you have, but I’m serious. I’ll open the door; you go first.”

“Okay?” You say, Jack's not one for dramatizing a crime scene. Two parts of your brain are arguing, half telling you to go turn tail before you see something you can't unsee. But the other part of yourself, the morbid, dirty part, wants nothing more than to see whatever gruesome scene is inside. 

Jack barely opens the door, just enough for you to squeeze through without any of the plethora of onlookers on the street to see. But before you can even take a step in, your senses are swarmed with a putrid smell. You’ve smelled a lot of dead bodies—badly decomposed ones with bugs living in bodily cavities. Or worse, children. Or worse then that, badly decomposed children with bugs living in bodily cavities. Before you can fully step into the house, the sight you see stops you in your tracks. 

You’re greeted with the living room upon entry and the kitchen to your left. There's no sofa, no coffee table, no TV, nothing; the room is free of furniture, though not empty. Taking centre stage is a large naked man, caked in what you presume to be mud, kneeled completely naked face down in the feeding trough in front of him. 

“What the fuck?” You look back at Jack, waiting for some sort of explanation. 

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. “No one had seen him for a while; one of the kids in the neighbourhood got curious and crawled through the doggy door and found him.” 

“Holy shit.” You even get anything intelligent to come out. Your brain just stopped working correctly. It's awful and horrible. You should be thinking about how much this man suffered and how traumatized that poor child must be, but all you can think about is how disgusting he looks.

Jack walks towards the body and holds it’s head up with his latex-covered hands; once it's held vertically, you see something attached to the corpse's head. You almost don’t believe it at first. You grab a pair of gloves for yourself out of your bag and slip them on as you walk forward; all of it gets worse as you get closer.

His fat grey face is covered in what you’re assuming to be pig feed; his bloated face isn't the issue; it's the two real pig ears attached to the top of his head. Upon closer inspection, you see that his head seems to be freshly shaved and the ears sutured to him. It’s not the worst attachment, though most sorts of medical professionals could be ruled out as perpetrators, the stitching is far too messy for that. Unless he was fully conscious.

The skin is severely discoloured around the animal's ears. Not only was he alive during it, but from what appears to be a severe infection around them, he was likely living with it for multiple days.

Before you can even collect your thoughts, Jack's voice interrupts you. “There's a tail too.” He says while nodding towards the man’s behind. Your mouth tries to make a noise of acknowledgement, but you fail to as you can't stop staring at the rings of dried blood and pus around the base of each ear. 

“If you want to take a moment, he had a backyard. It's fenced in, but I'd still watch out for anyone with cameras; I’m pretty sure Zeller’s out there.” You hear him say, It sounds so fuzzy, everything feels so fuzzy, actually. 

“I’m fine, just dissociating, I think.” You say, still not looking at Jack. “I’m blood, Jack. There's no blood, why am I here?”

He stands up, his knees cracking from no longer crouching. “Bedroom.” He simply states before walking to the left side of the house. As you follow him down the short hallway and take a glance into the bathroom, you stop as you see Beverly’s back blocking the view and entry.

“What's-” Before you finish, Bev moves to the side, giving you a full vision of the washroom. The floor was coated in a thick layer of dried mud. As you creep forward, you see the bathtub filled with what looks to be about two whole feet of mud.

She turns around to look at you, she looks so overwhelmed. You're not sure what to say to her or how you’re meant to console someone in this situation. Beverly rarely shows her her stress, but right now, she's wearing it visibly like it's one of her cheap fough leather jackets. You give up on trying to find anything to say, but she doesn't seem to mind; in fact, she seems just as silent as you. 

Your brain finally kicks into work mode. You walk away from Bev and towards Jack, he says nothing as he opens the bedroom door for you. The bed is covered with layers of blood, and the bedside table has a bloody needle and black thread looped through it. 

“I don't understand why he left it all here—he cleaned up everything, removed all the furniture. Why?” You hear Bev say behind you. You didn't even hear her walk in, but you suppose you were a bit preoccupied. Jack's silence is unnerving as you try to piece together the gruesome scene in front of you. The realization sinks in that this killer wants to leave a lasting impression on his victims. 

"He desires for us to feel repulsed." You think out loud. “He wants us to see every bit of torture the victim incurred, even if it risks leaving evidence; or maybe he’s confident he didn't leave any.” The victim—who is the victim?

“Do we have an ID?” You inquire, looking at Jack.

Jack clears his throat before speaking. “Cristopher Myers, 43, unemployed, living on disability.” He approaches the bed from the right side. “We don't have any DNA, only bootprints.”

At that, Beverly smiles. “You haven't let us work our magic yet.” She says before walking out of the room, boots clicking behind her. 

You sigh, realizing you have a lot of work ahead of you. You will have to survey every single thing. “Where do you want me to start?” You ask. 

Jack starts to say something, then stops, not even sure where to start. “Well how do you think this began?” 

“Not sure, but there were ligature marks on the victim's wrists, which I'm assuming he used while…operating on him, but I don't see any restraints. Unless they are around here somewhere else, he may have disposed of them elsewhere. I’ll ask Bev to see if there's fibres left in the wounds, they’re shallow but he still tugged on them enough to dig in; they look like rope marks, I think.”

He hums back, his eyes still fixed on the bloody bed. “I’ll ask her, you do your work.”

"All right." You say. “I’m gonna start taking some pics. Can you back up?” Jack doesn't respond, just walks out of the room. His footsteps halt, and his voice resounds through the walls. His voice is quiet but you can assume he’s giving Beverly directions. 

As you remove your camera from its case, you reason that it does not concern you and that you should focus on your work. Time to take some seriously macabre photography. 

You gaze into your microscope, blood sample 24; every piece of DNA discovered at the site belongs to the victim. "I can’t concentrate with your moaning, it's distracting." You grunt.

Jimmy lets up on his pacing behind you. "I feel like I’m at a dead end; I am not complaining, I am frustrated." He mutters, frustrated. 

“And I feel like you need an Ativan, Jimmy.” You can't focus with someone whining in your ear. 

"You’re not helping at all." He states.

"I still need to go through eight more samples and write a blood report, so go bug your work husband." Jimmy rolls his eyes and walks away, muttering a response under his breath. You take a deep breath and refocus on analyzing the slide in front of you.

This one was a droplet from the floor, likely from the nasal cavity, with the nasal mucus you can see. Yum.

The victim didn’t seem to have any nasal bleeding. He didn’t seem to have any blood around any visible orifices, actually. You grab the phone and call Jack. 

“Hello.” You hear his static voice. 

You clear your voice before speaking; you want to sound clear. "Hey, how much longer till we get the coroner's report? I think I might have found something.”

Before you can even get out the second syllable of your final word, he interrupts. “What.”

“Um, I’m going to test the blood to be sure if it’s a match to the victim anyway, but I found blood from a nasal cavity, and I don’t think it’s from the victim.”

It’s silent on his end for a moment. “I’ll fax a copy over to you when I get it, you do the same when the results come back. And I want to be the first person you tell the results too.”

“Yes sir.” You say before he hangs up. 

A part of you knows the results already, you know that the sample isn’t the victim’s.

PRESENT DAY

You pick up the file that Jack threw on your desk. You're done for the day, you should get in your car and go home. But it’s like you feel a physical string wrapped around your wrist that's tugging you towards the yellow file.

Fuck it, you think as you snatch it off your desk. As you read through the file, you understand more and more why Jack wants you to be a part of this case. And you understand why he was desperate enough to ask Will for help despite the contempt they hold against each other. 

You sigh as you grab your phone—your mobile, not the one sitting on your desk. You can’t call Jack; you're too bullheaded to call and verbally admit defeat. You type your message and hope that he still has the name number, you don’t think you could handle the heightened level of awkwardness that showing up unannounced would cause. 

You take a deep breath before hitting send. You still feel unsure about your rash decision to join the case as you stare at the two words you sent to Jack. 

“I’ll come.”

chapter 2

[multifandomfix]

Hannibal Lecter Smut Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Loving, doting, the best example there is of an aftercare king. He’ll run you a bath, make sure you’re properly hydrated after your exertion. Anything you want or need is exactly what you’ll get.

B = Body part (favorite body part of their partner’s)

Honestly, take your pick. He likes the whole of you. Every part is just as beautiful to him as the next.

C = Collar (do they mark you as theirs in some way?)

Not outwardly. He keeps any marks where they’d be well covered. He still wants you to look beautiful and the marks are just for you and him to see.

D = Dominant (who is in control? are they a top or bottom?)

He’s mostly a top, loving the surrender you give him, but he’s also flexible if you want to take the reins so to speak.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows what he’s doing. He’s even able to teach you a thing or two about your own body and pleasure.

F = Fuck (do they prefer to fuck or make love?)

Though he’s not fond of just referring to it as ‘fucking’ the acts are essentially one and the same to him. He can be both rough and tender. And one doesn’t necessarily have to negate the other.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, entirely. He feels it makes it a safe space to explore the depths of true desire without embarrassment or nerves getting in the way.

H = Hot (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you eat or drink. Something as simple as watching you swirl a wine glass or savor the taste of his cooking at that first bite and it takes his entire willpower not to take you right then and there.

I = Insatiable (how do they act when they’re desperate to have you?)

His more primal instincts kick in then. He’ll be on you the moment you walk in the door and his hands will roam your body as he’s breathing heavy in your ear.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It’s not as if he doesn’t enjoy the act, in fact he sees it as being quite cathartic at times, but he vastly prefers a partner for that kind of thing.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Anything that combines sex and art. Shibari is a particular favorite. And he’s also fond of using body safe paint, having even framed one of your creations while covered in it during sex.

L = Location (favorite places to have sex)

He typically keeps it to the bedroom, but he does love when the occasion presents itself to have you splayed out for him on his dining table. It’s the art and the metaphor of it that he enjoys.

M = Mood (what’s the foreplay like? how do you get them in the mood?)

Hannibal likes a slow build. Kisses that get progressively more wanton, caresses that become gentle squeezes. A slow and natural progression to the bedroom is the perfect way for him.

N = Naked (how do they undress? do they like to watch you undress?)

Slow and careful. He has very fine clothing and isn’t keen on tearing off his clothes for the sake of sex. He loves watching you undress and helping you along the way as you put a show on for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He much prefers giving. His skill is giving you head is unmatched. He relishes the taste of you on his tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He usually starts off slowly, savoring every second, but if he’s been particularly desperate for you, expect him to be a little rougher.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not one for quickies. They’re often sloppy and not nearly as gratifying in his opinion.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t mind trying out new things to spice up your sex life. As long as everything is properly negotiated beforehand, he’ll try whatever you’re into, and respects that you pay him the same courtesy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Though Hannibal could probably easily go several rounds in a night, he generally prefers to stop at one, knowing that the first orgasm is probably going to be the best, so why improve upon perfection?

T = Tryst (are they into casual sex or one night stands?)

Not as a rule. He has done so, of course, but it isn’t the way he prefers his sexual encounters to be.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He has teasing basically down to a science. He knows just how to tease you and for how long to make the most of your pleasure.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not overly loud, but he certainly isn’t silent either. He doesn’t hold back when he feels the need to moan or anything else. Whatever is natural for the both of you, should be expressed.

W = Wait (how long do they wait before having sex with their partner for the first time?)

Once he’s established the proper amount of trust, whatever that means for him. He’ll have a conversation about it before jumping right into bed. It’s all about timing.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hannibal is incredibly handsome and very fit. He has impeccable grooming and he looks like a statue carved from marble.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

About average, really, maybe even a bit lower than the average man. He has many interests and hobbies after all and doesn’t feel that sex needs to take up all of his time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Quite a while. He likes to take care of you, of himself and reflect, play it over in his mind and note the things he’d do again and maybe some things he’d reserve only for certain times or types of play.

For anon

Hannibal Lecter: @jkthighs, @riveranddoctorsong123, @jokerhorse, @brwnicons, @floraltxt, @locke-writes, @mattxxamryli, @smilely-days, @danimorgan1708, @onlinecemetery

[alessiathepirate]

Hannibal NBC

THE SIMPLICITY THEY SHOULD HAVE: Will Graham x fem!reader

Summary: She liked watching Will do things he actually liked to do. Watching him sit on the floor working on those boat motors was the sight she wanted to see everyday.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

So- I actually looked up an article about boat motors and about how to repair them, so I can describe it in a close-enough way, but in reality I've never seen a single boat motor in my life. So if it isn't desribed like it should be described - I'm sorry.

Warnings: references to Will's work, but surprisingly nothing more

•••

She liked watching Will do things he actually liked to do. The things that made him relaxed, but entertained in a good way.

It didn't only give Will a peace of mind, it also made her feel a certain kind of calmness and safety she's never felt when Will was out working on a case, trying to get into people's minds.

Watching him sit on the floor working on those boat motors as the muscles around his eyes and mouth tensed up from concentration was the sight she wanted to see everyday. When he isn't thinking about anything gruesome, when he isn't scared of nightmares or for her safety, when he is home doing what he likes with all his dogs around him being lazy - that was the sight she liked, those were the happiest moments she had about Will.

It felt domestic. It felt normal.

It felt like something they should have everyday.

The simplicity of it was the thing what made it so special - because otherwise nothing about their relationship was simple.

She was lying on her stomach in their shared bed, keeping herself up on her elbows. She was supposed to be reading, so she can finally finish the book she has started months ago but couldn't find the time to finish because of all the crazy, abnormal things that had been going on. This was the only normal evening they've had in months, the only truly relaxing one, yet the book isn't the real entertainment.

Will on the other hand certainly is.

"It's not very nice to stare."

His voice is truly entertaining too, especially when it's calm, relaxed and slightly teasing.

"I never said I was a nice person." she said, not even trying to hide her smile.

"Really? I thought was dating a nice person." he didn't look up from his work, his hands were still moving the screwdriver he was holding, trying to get a stuck screw out.

"I can be nice." she started, feeling her heart flutter as she noticed how Will's curls were messier than usual - God, he looked cute. "Just not when I have such a handsome boyfriend to look at."

That made Will look up, finding her gaze and making eye contact, abandoning his work for a while. She almost giggled at how his cheeks turned into a slight pink shade at her compliment. She rarely saw Will blush, very rarely.

"Such a charmer."

"I try my best." she smirked. " 'Everything alright with the motor?"

"Yeah, the screw's stuck but it'll be fine." he looked down at the boat motor, then back at her. "So, you abandoned the book again."

"Yes." she answered shortly and then continued: "I found something much more entertaining."

"That's a very nice book." Will voice carried a teasing edge.

"Yeah, well I just decided to enjoy the moment." she lost the smirk and the teasing, and used a sincere smile and honesty instead. "We rarely have a calm evening these days. I'd rather spend it watch- admiring you and talking to you, than look at words my mind can't comprehend right now anyway."

Will lost the smirk too and the small, happy smile he sent her way was truly the cutest thing she's seen him do so far. It wasn't anything big, sure. It wasn't a surprise date, it wasn't a gift she wouldn't need anyway - it was something she really wanted to see: a honest smile. A smile what told her everything and a smile what didn't hold anything back. He was comfortable, well rested and happy - the only thing she wanted.

"Come here." he said those two words softly, there was nothing rude or demanding about it.

She got off the bed and walked toward him. When he patted the floor next to where he was sitting, she understood what he wanted. She sat down next to him and crossed her legs.

"Would you like to help me?"

It was rare that he asked for help - no matter the context.

He trusted her, he loved her - she was sure of that. For a second she was too scared to open her mouth and speak, not wanting to ruin the softness of the moment.

"Of course." she swallowed; she was unable to hold back a smile. "What are we doing?"

"We'll try to remove the propeller so we can replace it with a new one. Then we'll try to find out why the battery is dead and if the spark plug needs to be changed." he explained it slowly and patiently, taking a look at her face here and there, making sure she understands what he's saying. "Sounds good?"

"Yeah. How can I help?"

"If you could get this screw out so we can take the propeller off, that'd be awesome."

"I can try."

She took the screwdriver from him as he turned the boat motor towards her so she can get to work. The first time tried to remove it the screw didn't move at all. That's why the second time she tried it she used more force - and to her surprise the screw moved.

She looked up at Will for a second with a grin. "It looks like that's something only women can do."

"Right. Thanks." she could hear that he was smiling, his pride wasn't hurt like any other man's would be.

"What now?" she asked as she took off the propeller.

"Now we'll take a look at the spark plug..."

And Will started to explain everything. He told her how to take the spark plug out, he explained what the most common problems are that can kill the battery in seconds. He spoke and then let her do the work, praising her when she did something right and chuckling when she messed something up. He corrected her and then watched her work with a smile.

She had a feeling that he likes to explain it to her, he likes the thought that he can teach her something new what isn't criminal profiling or basic self defense stuff.

By the time the motor was taken apart her fingers felt numb and she felt herself getting tired. Will must've felt it too, because he took the wrench she had in her hand.

"Is that all?" she asked.

"No, but I think for today you've done enough."

"Enough good stuff?"

"You've done a wonderful job with this for a rookie." Will's smile was genuine - so was hers.

"Yeah, no surprise you're a teacher. You can explain how everything works really well." she rested her head on his shoulder and even if Will tensed up a little from the sudden affection, he didn't push her away - he pressed a soft, barely even a real kiss to the top of her head.

"I think you should go ahead and lie down. I'll join you in a second."

"No. I'll wait here with you."

And she waited.

She waited until he put the new propeller on. She watched as he checked on the oil. She watched as he started to clean up the mess - putting different tools into the toolbox and cleaning the floor with the rag he had close by.

At some point they changed their position. Maybe it was because of Will moving and turning while trying to not move to far away from her - she didn't know for sure. But she was hugging his shoulders from behind while she rested her chin in the crook of his neck and her legs were wrapped around his waist.

It was a comfortable position for her - and must have been a pretty uncomfortable one for Will.

But he didn't complain. Sometimes he brushed his hand along her shin or knee, or took one of her hands and held it. And it was Heaven.

She couldn't really believe in anything good in this world, not after she saw what the world is like and how bad it actually is. She saw it all through Will's work and night terrors - but one thing was for sure, in that moment she felt like they were both in Heaven. They were home, they were close, the dogs were lazily lying on the rug around them.

It felt safe.

It felt normal.

It felt nice.

"Sweetheart?" she was half asleep when Will finally spoke up, his voice wasn't more than a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Let's go to bed, okay?"

"Sure." she answered, but stayed still for a moment. "Will?"

He hummed and she felt the noise go through his whole body.

"I like these evenings. The calm ones."

Will didn't say anything. He didn't have to. She knew he felt the same way. She knew it because he took her hand and pressed a kiss on it. She knew it because he carried her to bed. She knew it because that night he didn't wake up from a night terror.

She liked watching Will do things he actually liked to do. But she liked it more when he slept calmly.

[lockedcemetary]

The Birth of Venus

a/n: this is probably bad, wrote it at 1 am and have never written before and doubt anyone will even see this. written with male/ gender neutral reader in mind but i don’t think i mentioned sex or gender at all, if anyone does see this and likes it or has feedback, tell me!

also not proofread lol

_______________________________________________

hannibal who asks you to be his muse for a nude portrait. He presents this request as politely and professionally as possible, to hide his true intentions. Hannibal who knows damn well he wouldn’t need a reference to properly etch your figure onto parchment, he’s already done it dozens of times.

You, being none the wiser, agree. Albeit a bit hesitantly, but you agree nonetheless. fast forward to the arranged date and time, he has unclothe yourself in his bathroom that’s attached to the master bedroom, for your comfort, he explains. he waits patiently with his sketchbook in hand, legs crossed away from your view. you pay no attention to his body language, but anyone who was even slightly educated on seeing the signs would be able to deduce that he was enjoying the situation in another light.

you exit the bathroom, a towel draped over yourself. you stand a bit over a yard away from him, unsure of what to do with yourself. he assures you that there is no need to be nervous, it’s just you and him, no danger or judgement. this eases you slightly, though he can tell you’re still tense.

he instructs you to place the towel on the desk behind you, and you follow. you turn back to him to see him already looking at you, is that desire in his eyes? Of course not, why would that be the case? he lets his eyes rake across you, taking in small details that he mentally stores away. he realizes he’s staring, and staring is rude, so he pulls his eyes back to his paper. this is when he begins his rough sketch, he will go in and clean everything up later. when he is happy with his sketch, finishing the outline with only a few stolen glances of the beauty in front of him, he looks back up. you’re looking at him, watching his hands in particular. from this angle you can make out the rough shape of yourself, it makes you blush a bit as you realize just the situation you remain in. he sees the pink dusting your cheeks and neck, but doesn’t comment on it. he simply stares.

he drags his line of sight onto the page once more, adding finer details as the minutes pass. he can feel it against his thigh now, but he dare not speak of it or even acknowledge it. this has never been a problem when it was just him, though he knew it would arise when you were standing in front of him as his hand graced the page. he flicks his eyes up for only a second, to regain his senses. the image was starting to take shape now. you could see it, and you recognized it? it was you, in the place of Venus in the renaissance painting The Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli.

you couldn’t make out the faces of the other three people in the image, but that wasn’t important. what was important was that Hannibal had led you here, just to simply take in your grace. you hadn’t known it, but this wasn’t simply a ploy to get you undressed in front of him, even if that was part of it. as elegant and chaste as hannibal likes to pretend he is. but he chose to memorialize you in the place of venus, the goddess of love, beauty, and sex. (atleast those are the motifs that apply here)

when he presented the image to you, your eyes widened on instinct. and you took a step forward to take the sketchbook from his hands and get a better look of it yourself, a better look of you, i suppose. Hannibal took note of the decreased proximity, and let his eyes wander. oh if only you knew how often you flitted about his mind. it’d end him, like you inevitably would.

________________________________

i was listening to the song Black Beauty by Lana Del Rey while writing this btw, good song.

[the-karma-cafe]

Alll My Moneh | Arthur Morgan

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

based on Arthur's silly drunk line "I lost allllll my money... can I ... have *yours* laydey ?" yes arthur my babygirl you can have all of it

also fun hannibal reference cause i llove

“Bye Ernie!” I called over my shoulder. The man behind the bar smiled and waved as I left the saloon, the doors swinging shut behind me. I brushed my hands off on my dress and stepped down the first couple of steps, eager to head home and away from the drunkards of Valentine. The job was fun, sure, but more often than not-

“I lost allll my money...” A sad voice called out to me from the street.

I glanced over, confused. The man in the dirt street stared at me through unfocused eyes, his stance crumpled and wobbly. He seemed to be searching for something to lean on.

“Can…” he hiccuped, “Can I have yours… laadyy?” his southern drawl lengthened the word.

Despite having dealt with drunk men all evening, I smiled, tilting my head to the side. “You alright sweetie?” He looked like a lost puppy, and, unlike the other patrons of the saloon, he wasn’t saying anything untoward.

The man gave a dopey grin upon hearing my voice, stumbling forward. “M’yeah.” 

I paused, glancing around the street. He didn’t seem to have any buddies with him. I stepped towards him, my hands out and ready to catch him if he suddenly pitched forward. “Hope you don’t mind my sayin’, but you don’t look it.” I pursed my lips. “Where’re your friends, baby?” 

He shrugged and almost fell into me before catching himself a foot away. “Camp.” 

I furrowed my brow in worry. I couldn’t in good conscience let this poor drunken fool wander around the street at night—he was sure to get robbed. “You wanna tell me where that is so we can get you home, cowboy?” I gently touched his arm and he leaned towards the feeling, eyes closing and opening at random intervals. He nodded mutely. 

I went to guide him over to my horse before he wobbled out of my light hold and back into the street, shaking his head. “No! Nooo.... No I don’ wanna go to camp.”

I sighed. “You’ve gotta go somewhere, darlin’.” 

He tried to focus his eyes on my form. “Why you..” he shook his head, planting his feet. “Why d’you care?”

I gave him a pitying look. “I don’t know, mister, but just let me help.” I searched around the street, my eyes lighting on the hotel. I looked back at him, hoping my expression was as comforting and gentle as possible. “You want a room in the hotel instead?”

He eyed me for a beat, suspicious, before nodding and humming in acquiescence.

I held out my hand to stabilize him and he grabbed it instead. I blinked down at our intertwined hands. Not exactly what I had intended, but not… unwelcome. He was closer now, and I could see that he wasn’t like the drunkards I was used to. Much more handsome, and so far, much nicer as well. 

Before he could question why we hadn’t started moving, I guided him towards the hotel, fortunately only a couple doors down, and helped him up the steps and inside. 

The receptionist welcomed us in, noting our joined hands. He smiled knowingly. “Not too loud, now.” He joked. I flushed, stammering out an excuse about how that was not what it was like at all, before paying for and receiving a room key. 

The man with me kept his eyes on me the whole way up the stairs, making no move to help me get him up there. I huffed. He wasn’t a small man. 

We reached the top of the stairs and I dragged him into his room, closing the door behind us. “Alright, mister, let’s get you situated.” His weight was fully on my side and I had to remove my hand from his grip (notably difficult) and wrap my arm around him to keep him upright. I grunted, working my way towards the bed.

He turned and I felt a cool rush of air on my head. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you- Are you sniffing me??” 

He coughed, whipping his head away. “D’fficult to avoid.”

I chuckled good-naturedly. “Hope it was everything you dreamed of.”

I pushed him onto the bed and he flopped over, immediately snuggling into it. I straightened up and exhaled, looking down at him. He looked… cute, like this. He was almost like a child, fisting the blankets and tucking his legs up near his torso. I shook my head, breaking that line of thought. This was silly.

Good deed for the day done, I placed the key on his nightstand and turned to leave. 

“Wait!” A warm weight held my wrist. I turned back to find him looking up at me from the edge of the bed with the sweetest pair of puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen. “Please stay.” He mumbled, like he didn’t want to say it, and definitely would not have if he hadn’t been in such a state. 

I tore my eyes away, looking at the ground. I didn’t know this man. It was enough of a risk just to take him up here—it was even more to stay and sleep here. 

His grip loosened, sensing my indecision. “I understand.” he nodded, not looking at me. “‘M scary.” 

My heart warmed. He was so cute. I reached out and cupped his cheek, guiding him to look at me. He leaned into my hand, eyes closed. “You are so sweet.” I cooed, brushing my thumb back and forth. 

He snorted, eyes opening. “‘M not.” His gaze wandered over my face. Heat rose to my cheeks, not expecting his eyes to hold such warmth and reverence in them. He reached out, his hand aiming for my face but falling and holding my arm instead. His palm was warm. “Yer gorgeous.” The heat in my cheeks flared, painting them a bright red. 

I knew I shouldn’t. 

But he was so sweet... despite his burly appearance, he seemed like he couldn’t hurt a fly.

I sighed and moved my hand from his cheek to run through his hair. He hummed happily, his head nodding forward slightly. “You want me to stay?” He looked up, eyes hopeful.

“Yes.” he breathed. His hand dragged down my arm, shifting and stopping at my hip. My breath hitched. “Please?”

I ignored the warmth seeping into my body from my hip, smiling at him kindly. “How could I say no to that face?” My hand at his neck brought his head closer to me. I heard him hiccup. I pecked the top of his head and ruffled his hair, pushing away from him. 

His hand fell from me limply, his eyes never leaving me as I rounded the bed, shedding my bag and shoes. I contemplated taking off my dress. I had undergarments on but… no, I’d be fine sleeping in my dress. I crawled into the other side of the bed, heaving an exhausted sigh at finally being able to lay down. 

It was quiet in the room, for a couple of minutes. I faced the ceiling, but felt his gaze on me. I turned. His face still held that reverent look. I blushed, unable to fight the smile twisting my lips. “You should get some sleep, sweetheart. That headache when you wake up’ll kill.”

He nodded, slumping over onto his side, facing me. I mirrored his posture, facing him. His eyes wandered all over, but never strayed from my face, despite this being one of my lower-cut dresses. My heart fluttered.  “What’s your name?” I whispered.

His face twitched. “Arthur.”

“Like the king?”

Arthur huffed a laugh. “What’s your name?” He asked instead, just as quiet. I told him. He smiled dreamily. “’S pretty. Suits you.” 

“Thank you, Arthur.” His smile grew hearing his name. “Though I can’t say you’re very kingly presently.” I teased.

He didn’t answer, instead reaching out, brushing hair from my face. I faltered, flustered at how gentle he was. Did he even hear me? His gaze dropped to my lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

I blinked in surprise, searching his face. He pulled his hand back, dragging it over his face and groaning. “Ohh, I’m a fool.” He rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his hand. 

I wanted to kiss him. I was surprising myself left and right today.

I reached out and touched his shoulder, pushing myself up onto my elbow. He shifted his hand to look at me with one eye. I forced myself to hold his gaze, feeling silly. “You can, Arthur, if you’d like.” 

Arthur dropped his hand. “Would you like?” I nodded.

He moved slowly, like he didn’t want to scare me off. He turned, moving his hand to cup my cheek. I tilted my head up, feeling my stomach flip nervously. He stopped, lips brushing against mine. 

Slowly, I pressed into them.

He groaned into my mouth, his hand moving towards my neck to bring me closer. I sighed happily, moving my hand to his chest. I wanted to explore further, feeling him up and down, but kept myself in check. Kissing was one thing, but... I didn’t want him to do something he would regret. He moved against me, trying to get impossibly closer.

I internally scolded myself. No further than this. I softly, regretfully, pushed against his chest, parting from him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, looking at me with sad eyes. I shook my head. "You're drunk, Arthur."

He frowned. "So?" His hand slid down from my neck, rubbing against my waist. He tugged a little, experimentally. His hand felt hot on my side, pressing me into the mattress. 

I bit my lip. "'S not right, cowboy, you know that." I poked his chest weakly. "If it was me you found out on the street like that, you wouldn't." 

He avoided my gaze. "Wouldn't I?"

"I don't know." I whispered, smoothing my hand over his chest. "I don't think you would, though." I didn't know why I was so sure. There was something about him.

He grunted, pushing into me and nuzzling his head into my neck. I made a noise of surprise, falling onto my back. "You don' know me." His lips tickled my neck as he spoke. 

I smiled, reaching my hands up to tangle in his hair. No, I did not know him, but I sure wanted to after tonight. He relaxed against my touch, almost crushing me under his weight. I didn't mind. I kissed his head, smoothing my hand down to rub circles on his back. Within minutes he was passed out, snoring softly. 

I debated leaving, but he had wormed his arms around me, snuggled in to my chest so cutely that I couldn't. I sighed, shifting my head on the pillow. The hotel was closer to the saloon than my house, anyway. This just made it easier to clock in come morning. (A flimsy excuse, but enough.)

[honeygrahambitch]

"What the hell is that?" Will asked as he almost dropped his phone. He forgot about scrolling and got up from the bed. Hannibal froze. He was just about to put on his shirt.

"What exactly?" He asked as if he didn't know what Will was referring to.

Will pulled the shirt off his arms and his eyes remained stuck to the huge bruise on his right ribs. It looked as if it was painted in all the shades of purple.

Hannibal didn't say anything, just like a child who is waiting to get scolded.

"How are you even able to...do anything while having this?"

"It's nothing. Ouch." He gasped as Will poked him with his index finger.

"I assume you have some broken ribs."

"You are not a doctor, you cannot make this kind of assumptions."

"Where is this from?"

"I might have fallen off my motor last week. It was not my fault."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Is this some kind of interrogation?"

"No, this is some kind of me caring about what happened to you. Half of your body is fucking purple."

"You can't fix it, now can you?"

"No but I can definitely make it worse."

"Dirty talk?"

"Shut up, isn't it bad enough that you will be a pillow princess for the next weeks?"

"That's not necessary. The bruise doesn't stop me from doing anything."

"You can't even kneel."

"Probably not but you can."

"I'm leaving for work. Don't text me."

"The silent treatment? Very original. And for what? Because I didn't report this to you?"

"The silent treatment bothers you? Let's see how healthy communication makes you feel. I am very upset, Hannibal, because I feel like we should share this kind of things in a relationship. This is a big deal. To me, at least."

"The healthy communication is appreciated however if it was you in my place, you wouldn't have mentioned it either. Correct?"

Will didn't know what to say. "This is not about me. Take some responsibility."

"Alright."

"That meaning what?" Will asked and crossed his arms, waiting for some kind of resolution.

"I did not think you would make a big deal out of it. I thought you would just roll your eyes and tell me that that is what I deserve for using a motorbike."

"Don't get me wrong, I hate it even more now and I will still roll my eyes but not because I don't care but because you thought I wouldn't care."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"I don't need you to feel like you have to put on a strong facade. I like you vulnerable just as much as I like you arrogant."

Hannibal softened to that. Even the pain ceased to exist after hearing those words coming from Will's mouth.

"Then you should know I have taken so many painkillers in the last days that I feel like I am constantly drunk."

"You're an idiot. That's why you didn't let me join you in the shower two nights ago. I would have seen..."

"Yes. And when Jack Crawford patted my back yesterday I thought I would snap his neck like a twig."

"I can't believe I haven't noticed it myself. This is on me too."

"I am very good at pretending everything is alright, darling, don't blame yourself."

"Yeah, well, be good at not pretending because next time that happens I will break your ribs and I am not even kidding."

"I know. Even if it sounds tempting, I will sit that one out."

"Weirdo." Will commented under his breath. "I'm seriously leaving for work. Don't get too drunk on painkillers and call me if anything. I mean it."

"Absolutely."

"When I'm back we'll see if you can kneel."

[saintetheldreda]

so im watching hannibal with the same friend who i watch supernatural with and weve got a system now of watching one supernatural episode followed by one hannibal episode

and i kind of love this cause i find the contrast so funny and interesting between supernatural (were on season 12) which is so stubbornly pro-redneck and hannibal which is so viciously terrified of rednecks haha

and i think this is important cause hannibal seems to have a lot of problems with american culture

after all it nods to flannery oconnor who was very disturbed by american culture too

see the way i see it is it correctly identifies the figure of the detective as one of the great symbols of the american ideal of individualism. after all in the history of detective stories they originated in a time where citizens were enjoying much more privacy in their lives. and all of a sudden the private, individual mind of the detective figure is the brilliant tool for justice rather than any kind of national institution or external strength

and will graham is a lot like that - the show makes clear that his MIND makes him an asset in a way that no one even with the same evidence can really compete with, he just sees it his own individual way

now in a typical detective story that would be a great thing but here it is kind of very worrying. cause will needs more external control input over his mind from other people and institutions than he ever really accepts. would it really be a bad thing for him to accept more institutional interference even if it made him less brilliant

and i feel like the reason we get all this american hunting imagery and the idea of hunting as an american family bonding ritual is because it is the essence of american colonisation and american power for the individual to turn the environment around them into objects (this is hobbs insistence to "use every part" of the hunted animal to decorate and furnish his home)

in american ideology everything outside you is conquered and it all becomes a part of your private world

which gives us the "evil minds museum" of this show which i am convinced is a pun/double meaning founded on the reversibility of the observer/observed in this show - as in, referring both to "a museum of evil minds" and also a model of the mind in which "the evil mind is a museum" - a place full of objectified versions of aspects of the world

but hannibal is a little different from the killers weve seen in the show so far in a key way (ive seen 3 episodes) - he does not kill and deconstruct his dead victims, he tries to break them down while living

i think he represents the simultaneous desire to turn people into an object to make them containable and to keep the essence of their life which could even be expressed as their sanctity, the "gods image" part of them (hence all the religious imagery of this show eg "this is my design" - alluding to the christian grand design idea in which everything is imbued with a sacred significance by god)

the push and pull between these two desires is what puts him and will in a state of endless stasis and tension

and this is the reason for hannibals cannibalism - wanting to eat something but also wanting it to be more than just meat to be consumed at the same time. trying to have both. trying to bridge that line

cause the first two killers of this show, hobbs and mushrooms, are founded on fears of self-sufficient communities, hunting and farming. the sound design in the mushroom episode even really calls attention to the diy aspect of it, sounding like diy wood instruments that might be made in some exotic/secluded community in the forest

so i guess the main message of hannibal in that sense would be that we need to exist in the same community, the same world. rather than everyone in this show simultaneously having the impulse to objectify and subject people to their own personal worlds. so that everything is fragmented and no one knows how to fucking talk to each other without killing/eating each other (lol)

[t0ast-ghost]

The last one… it’s been coming for awhile…

Here’s my thoughts on Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

(Spoilers for- well— everything)

- Before watching this movie I was trying to figure out why they chose this name and was told by my mom it’s a Shakespeare reference which.. I should have guessed

- “A Nicholas Myer Film” Cool! Now we know who to blame or bow to

- The music is so fucking intense I’m worried now

- I know Christopher Plummer is famous, I can’t place the face though and I want to say I know the name from the muppet show

- WAIT. Michael Dorn… WORF

- Wanna let y’all know that there was a guy (Harve Bennet) who wanted to create a completely different sixth movie that would’ve been more like a prequel where they recasted everyone to have an “academy era” movie with Kirk, Spock, and McCoy shenanigans. Gene Roddenberry didn’t fucking like that idea (cause only he knows how to cast apparently)

- explosion :)

- Teacup that tells you what ship you’re on. I now understand why everyone hates Quark trying to spread his own brand when Starfleet clearly is trying to push their own into every single crevasse

- HIII SULU HIIII

- It’s nice that they gave him the ship he kept saying he was hoping for in voyage home

- I won’t make a fart joke out of “gaseous planetary anomalies” and I definitely won’t say that Q did it

- DAMN NOT THE TEACUP. NBC Hannibal would fucking hate this movie

- Forgot how much I freaking love George Takei and I am so happy they gave him more stuff to do in this movie

- Falling… for about 7 seconds which is about 4 seconds more than normal

- Fairly certain that’s Janice Rand (5:32) (edit: it is! Hi Janice!!!)

- “We have no need for assistance,” and “Stay out of the neutral zone,” sounds like challenge

- Kirk says “What are we doing here?” STARRRING IN THE SIXTH STAR TREK MOVIEE BABEYYYY

- Scotty bought a boat, Uhura teaches seminars at the academy, I love hearing about their lives, keep going

- “Where’s Spock?” Asked in the saddest wettest voice. Kirk’s got his priorities straight. Er- well- not straight exactly but they’re there

- Them trying to hide that the “special envoy” is Spock when Kirk is sitting there looking at him like this

- Sorry babygirl not taking in any of that information. I am taking in those beautiful eyes tho <3

- Ooooh starting this one off with Kirk and Spock on opposite political sides

- Kirk being the one who has to offer the olive branch probably because Spock thought he could trust him to be on the side of peace (which was a miscalculation cause he’s probably still pretty angry with the whole “you Klingon bastards killed my son” thing…)

- “I remind you this meeting is classified” as everybody splits off into chattering gossip

- Kirk actually getting angry at Spock for “volunteering” them. The giant empty room with Kirk in the shadows and only Spock in the light (plus that random person standing in a dark corner for some reason) augh the mise en scène is wonderful

- I don’t even know how to unpack all that. Kirk so prejudiced against the Klingons (finally taking a more antagonistic stance) and saying “You should have trusted me” WHICH IS WHAT SPOCK HAS ALWAYS DONE. Because he trusted that Kirk would ultimately want peace no matter how battered and broken he became.

- They changed Spock’s ears, made the points more curved into themselves

- Why does every new lieutenant like quoting regulations to Kirk? How many does he just regularly break?

- OH FOR FUCKS SAKE WHY DOES HE LOOK OVER AT SPOCK SO SOFTLY

- I love how shape her hair is (draw it draw it draw it dammnit)

- Whenever creating a Star Trek movie you need someone on the production team who loves the ship departing from space dock scenes

- “I can never forgive them for the death of my boy.” Kirk says my boy

- Okay yes, Valeris should have knocked before entering his room but Kirk should also know to lock his door when he’s talking to his diary

- Why is Valeris so involved in this movie? First she’s talking to Kirk and now we’re following her to Spock’s? Strange (my guess. She’s evil.)

- “It is a reminder to me that all things end.” Like your life. Twice. Also that’s a nice sentiment and all but it’s so sad with the context that even his own original timeline ends

- “Logic is the beginning of wisdom, Valeris, not the end.” YEAHHH OLDER SPOCK he’s got a more balanced view on the world and himself

- OKAY I absolutely adore the costume design, especially for Gorkon. Like the golden clips in the hair? The red suit adorned with studs and the giant silver necklace?? The beard??? Amazing

- I like that there’s a “chief of staff” for the Klingons. It’s like the manager at a party city

- “They all look alike” BRO THEY MOST FUCKINGLY DO NOT

- I love the chief of staff being so confused over what the napkin roll thing is. I feel that.

- Ah yes my favourite meal. Blue. With a side of orange of course.

- “I offer a toast. The Undiscovered Country…” Welp. He said it. Time to wrap up the movie

- YEP ITS SHAKESPEARE BABEYYY (thank you Spock for saying that it’s Hamlet, act III, scene I, cause I didn’t wanna look it up)

- “You’ve not experienced Shakespeare until you have read him in the original Klingon.” Quoi???

- Spock actively trying to stop Kirk from starting a war

- I think this is such a good part where the Klingons are trying to state their worries. The gradual (or not so gradual) need for assimilation to be apart of starfleet. This is a particularly big problem for the Klingons because so much of their culture has been entwined with violence which Starfleet seems almost hellbent to take away. As well as hearing troubling language such as “human rights” thrown in their faces

- IM SORRY. Kirk. You didn’t. You didn’t just compare someone to hitler.

- Spock looks actually so fucking pissed at Kirk

- “If there is to be a brave new world, our generation is going to have the hardest time living in it.” Gorkon dropping all the good lines

- McCoy just standing there adjusting his outfit and looking like the most tired man alive

- “I’m going to sleep this off.” “I’m going to go find a pot of black coffee.” Both Kirk and McCoy leaving Spock :(((

- The shaky swoop of the camera as Kirk and the rest of the bridge realize that somehow they just fired on the Klingon vessel

- Don’t care about the rest of the movie I just love the scene where everything starts floating on the Klingon vessel

- AUGH THOSE SPACE SUITS OKAY I DO STILL CARE

- Love me some good ol’ bad 3D graphics blood

- Times like this I wish I’d never skipped my tlhIngan Hol classes

- Floating dead Klingons. What. A. Scene.

- Aw Fuck Dude. The one guy getting gravity back online and everything falling to the ground and blood splattering and AUGHHH. Every time I think this scene can’t get better, it does!

- HIII MCCOY!!! He got to rush onto the bridge just to ask “are we firing torpedoes” and I appreciate that :)

- Kirk and Spock fighting over who should go to the Klingon ship and Spock saying “perhaps you’re right” and then putting his hand on Kirk’s shoulder made me more nervous than it should have. Darn you Wrath of Khan! You’ve given me trust issues. (but you're telling me this isn't supposed to look like a nerve pinch???)

- Also Kirk ultimately still trying to maintain peace. It’s his knee jerk reaction to this. He’s got what he’s said he’s wanted when incased in his own emotions about loosing his son but he knows it’s not right

- and finally, yay! McCoy gets to go on the mission!

- The actor for the Klingon that greets them is so good at the rage mixing with grief and sadness

- McCoy to the rescue!!

- Either Klingon blood is pink (like in that one game) or they wanted to keep it pg-13

- “He’s gone into some kind of damned arrest!” McCoy proceeds to straddle the Klingon on top of the table so he has leverage to do proper CPR… I have no thoughts on this that I’d like to share

- I do not believe McCoy’s punches would be strong enough to restart a heart. I’m sorry but they look so puny

- The blood bubbling as Gorkon dies is so fucking good oh my heart

- This is all happening at 2:00 fucking AM??? No wonder Kirk is tired

- “I sympathize, Mr. Scott.” Love when they make Spock say he ‘understands’ or ‘sympathizes’

- SAREKKKK!! Hehe hiiii

- “We are experiencing technical malfunction. All backup systems inoperative.” “Excellent. I… I mean, too bad.” A banger scene from Uhura and Chekov

- Rosanna DeSoto as Azetbur (the Chancellor’s daughter) plays the part so well. Again their portrayal of grief and anger while trying to get to peace is so fucking amazing. LOOK AT HER FACE

- Maybe I’m not so happy about McCoy being on this mission after all…

- The giant circular judgement chamber is so fucking cool

- MICHAEL DORN 🫵

- The sparking gavel <3

- I love the beginning of a translator translating all the Klingon’s words

- WORF IS THEIR DEFENDANT???

- That one Klingon that laughs at McCoy’s joke, wanna be friends?

- “You say you are due for retirement. May I ask, do your hands shake?” “Objection!” “I was nervous!” “No. You were incompetent.” This is like watching reality tv for me. That’s some good drama

- phew thank goodness they’re not killing McCoy. He’s too pretty to die

- The back and forth slow zoom in on McCoy & Kirk and the judge didn’t have the intensity they were going for but I appreciate the effort

- “Better to kill them now and get it over with.” That’s nice Scotty

- Oh shit Spock loosing both of his husbands in one sentencing. That cannot be good for the economy

- “An ancestor of mine maintained that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains however improbable, must be the truth.” Ancestor? You mean fucking Arthur Conan Doyle?? Or Sherlock??? Either way that’s a hecking lore drop

- They’ve got a murder mystery aboard the Enterprise, this is my dream

- Hey babe, new Klingon dog beast just dropped (Jackal Mastiff)

- I let out an audible “aww” of pity when I saw McCoy wrapped up in a blanket

- I can’t believe I’m only halfway through this movie what is even happening anymore

- Had a brief pause to voice crackedly yell a little bit. Something along the lines of “I do not care. I do not care! I don’t care! I just want Spock- I just want them with Spock! I do not care!” And then let myself breathe for a second or two (and then made chicken nuggets). The outburst was born of a deep sadness from the fact that they can’t just be happy and retired together. Ok, back to the movie.

- Martia just handed Kirk a blunt change my mind

- “Somebody up there wants you out of the way.” of course, it can’t just be about actual politics between the Klingons and Federation, it has to actually be about Kirk and somebody trying to kill him. Dang it.

- “But the killers may still be among them.” …wait a damn minute.. you’re saying there’s imposters- *pulled away forcefully*

- I love how every commanding officer comes into the kitchen absolutely furious that someone fired a phaser

- On that note: why is there a kitchen? And why are they preparing various cooked birds? Who’s having a banquet tonight?

- What kind of bullshit evolution puts a species genitals in their knees?

- Hate how Kirk just lets McCoy go treat the highly dangerous being alone

- “Spock was right” NO SHIT HE’S LITERALLY AN ANCESTOR OF SHERLOCK

- YASSS SULU!!! Now get your rest you beautiful man

- Spock will literally leave no stone unturned for his husbands

- Either Martia has some really good prosthetics in the cave or she’s wearing someone else’s skin… NEVERMIND haha she’s just a shapeshifter

- Chekov was so proud of himself dammit. Too bad he was so utterly wrong

- Also Valeris is so expressive, kinda loving it

- The planet seems kinda nice in the daylight.. minus the dead body I’d say it’s pretty similar to winters in Canada (yes I made the joke, please delete it before posting) (edit: nope <3 just like Canada. Made your bed, lie in it)

- “Leave me. I’m finished.” Goddamn this man’s worst enemy is the cold. Both times McCoy just gives up and tells Spock or Kirk to leave him (First time being in All Our Yesterdays)

- “If they’re even looking for us.” Bones. Spock would literally NEVER leave the both of you. That aside the rest of the Enterprise crew also loves you like crazy

- Everyone laughing on the channel with the Klingons is so funny

- Holyy shit. Is Kirk going to fight.. himself???

- McCoy angel <3

- “I can’t believe I kissed you.” Yeah. Me neither. You didn’t actually have too.

- Poor McCoy holy cannoli oil. He’s knocked out and when he wakes up immediately gets trampled by two versions of his husband

- HIIII JACKAL MASTIFF HIII

- “Since you’re all going to die anyway, why not tell you.” When I go to watch the cinema sins video (I know I’m sorry) on this movie I bet they’ll say “klingonposition” or smt like that here

- If it’s just Chang that wants Kirk dead that’s so disappointing

- McCoy looks over and sees this

- “What you want is irrelevant, what you’ve chosen is at hand.” SPOCK IS ANGRYYYYY SPOCK IS PISSSED

- Please someone let McCoy take a shower, he stinks

- WAIT VALERIS WAS THE ONE SITTING IN THE DARK CORNER OF THE ROOM IN THE BEGINNING

- The distorted wavy angle that almost feels like it’s going side to side dutch angles with each of Spock’s footsteps as he nears Valeris

- I WOULD HAVE SCREAMED IN THEATRES

- Valeris is fucking crying omg what the actual fuck

- I honestly don’t know how to take that apart. I’m still shocked and screaming a little. The reactions from each crew member being just absolutely horrified

- I’m still reeling from that but I gotta acknowledge the fact that Spock says “I prefer it dark” when Kirk enters his quarters. So did I as a teenager and my mom would tell me it was bad for my eyes

- “You and the doctor might have been killed.” “The night is still young.” They are three months from retirement. Goddammnit let them just get to be retired together on a farm or condo or smt. I don’t give a shit just let them rest.

- “Spock, you want to know something? Everybody’s human.” NO THEYRE NOT IN THIS CONTEXT. That was kind of a big point made in this movie. I think the point you’re trying to make is ‘everyone in the whole galaxy forever will always make mistakes.’

- “Doctor, would you care to assist me in performing surgery on a torpedo?”

- Chang just said, “ah the games afoot” why are there so many Sherlock Holmes references in this one? Like I know they have a hard on for famous literature but this one is named after a Shakespeare quote. Just saying it’s a bit crowded.

- They really wanted McCoy to say smt doctory while making the torpedo so they chose “we’ve got a heart beat”

- I think it would’ve been better if Chang said to be or not to be in Klingon like they did at the dinner table

- So they saved the day? Yay? Kirk and McCoy should legally not actually be there- oh they’re all clapping for them who cares

- SPOCK GETS TO SAY GO TO HELL

- Kirk did not just fucking quote Peter Pan. Shut the fuck up.

- McCoy’s look says it all. And by that I mean just let him retire with his husbands. Oh my goodness.

- Just for my mom I'm mentioning the flared pants (Spock and McCoy look kinda goofy tho)

- Ohhh so this is where they change it from “where no man” to “where no one”

- And the Enterprise rides off into the sun. What kind of Grease ending is that?

Awwe okay all of their signatures at the end was a nice touch

I don’t have much more to say here, I forgot how fun but time consuming it was to do these thought posts. I really really appreciate everyone who likes these posts because it means y’all took the time to read this which is just something so meaningful to me.

Thank you all so much <3

Masterpost