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defectivevillain · 2 months

Text

through gritted teeth

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary:

The man says he’s your husband. He’s polite, charming, intelligent. He seems a little pretentious, but he appears to know you rather well and the thinly-veiled devotion in his eyes dispels most of your remaining doubts. It certainly helps that the man is rather well-dressed—and attractive, a traitorous voice in the back of your mind whispers. Unfortunately, you have no idea who he is.

word count: 3.8k | ao3 version

You wake up to fluorescent lighting burning into your eyes, pulling tears down your cheeks as you blink stars from your vision. Your entire body aches with exhaustion and you can feel a headache brewing already. Groaning, you try to push yourself up to a sitting position. There’s an IV attached to your arm and, upon closer inspection, you seem to be in some sort of hospital room. White walls line the space, and there’s nothing much of note in your immediate vicinity. You blink a few more times past your absurdly dry eyes and continue inspecting the room, until your eyes catch on the chair to the right side of your bed.

There’s a man sitting at your bedside with his eyes closed. He stirs within a few moments, as if he can sense you staring at him. Relief is written all over his face as he leans forward and clasps your hand with a small smile on his face. You can’t stop yourself from instinctively flinching at the contact and he notices, removing his hand at once.

“Do you remember who I am?” He asks. His words are carefully constructed, strung together with eloquence and remnants of what sounds like an accent from a European country. You blink at him once, twice. It takes a moment for you to process the question, and another to contemplate the answer. The man doesn’t look familiar. Indeed, he looks like a stranger.

When you tell him as much, a sad smile works its way onto his face. It seems he expected your answer. He begins to explain the circumstances surrounding your visit here, which you are immensely grateful for. You know next to nothing as you sit in this hospital bed, and, try as you might, you can’t remember anything save for your name.

Apparently, you’ve suffered a serious head injury that left you with a spontaneous case of amnesia. Fortunately, your memories will likely return to you in due time. Somehow, these two revelations aren’t the most shocking of statements from the stranger. What the man reveals next shakes you to your core: he’s your husband.

Upon closer examination, you find that the man is charming, polite… He’s rather attractive, too, with fine-combed hair and sparkling brown eyes with flecks of amber. His face looks as if it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself—sweeping lines, sharp edges, soft curves. The man is intelligent and [perhaps as a result] a little pretentious. From his attire, you can only assume that he makes a lot of money and has rather particular tastes. You could see someone like this going to the opera regularly.

But there’s something else about this man—something lurking beneath the surface. You can’t puzzle out what it is. There’s something sinister concealed in those reddish-brown eyes, an unspoken violence in the man’s careful poise. And you think you catch him intently scrutinizing you—as if you’re under a microscope.

You soon learn that the man’s name is Hannibal Lecter. He’s a psychiatrist who used to be a surgeon. He’s in his 40s. He has refined tastes—and even goes to the opera on occasion, yes. He is fascinating, intriguing beyond measure. He discusses heavily philosophical topics with ease. He is slippery, only giving you the information he wants to give you. He has a very controlled image. The dishes he cooks you are extravagant and lavish, with ingredients you’ve never even heard of. (The meat in them is always some sort of organ, and it turns your stomach every time.)

In the wake of your injury, you’re unsure of almost everything. But you know one thing for certain: Hannibal is not your husband. And you’re convinced that he’s dangerous. You don’t trust him—can’t trust his carefully crafted words, his home-cooked meals, his polite smiles. It’s all a farce.

It would be all too easy to ask your next visitor about this well-dressed, enigmatic man. Unfortunately, you don’t get any other visitors. In fact, your next visitor is Hannibal again… And again. And again. It gets to the point where your nurse gives up on having him sign in when he visits. At first, she had been rather strict in enforcing the rules; she seems to have caught onto something that you still haven’t grasped, because she now collects herself with an entirely different—almost heightened—awareness.

You’re having increasingly conflicting feelings, especially when you consider the fact that Hannibal hasn’t actually exhibited any behavior that justifies your wariness and suspicion. If anything, he’s been the perfect supporter—the perfect husband—throughout your recovery. You want to believe your gut sense, want to believe the whispers in the back of your mind that tell you to exercise caution. But, at the same time, who’s to say they can be believed? You still have almost no recollection of who you are. Why are you questioning the only person who has bothered to show up for you throughout your recovery?

Days pass in the blink of an eye; before you know it, Hannibal is walking in one morning with the declaration that you’ve been officially discharged from the hospital. Despite your misgivings, you head to the bathroom to change into some normal clothes before putting on the pair of shoes near the door. Your heart is racing as Hannibal’s gaze refuses to leave your form. Why can’t your mind rest? Why can’t your thoughts be silent, for once? Why are you so damn suspicious of every minute kindness?

The walk out of the hospital and through the parking lot is painfully silent. You can’t resist sneaking glances at Hannibal, waiting for his mask to crack and fall. It never does. He catches you looking and sends you a smile, which discourages you from looking again. You let your eyes roam about the shiny cars in the parking lot as the warm afternoon sunlight greets your skin. You missed the fresh air.

“Where are you taking me?” You finally ask, as you continue to follow behind the man.

“Home,” Hannibal remarks. He pointedly does not say your home or even our home. Your heart is racing in your chest. His back is turned, leaving you to imagine the expression on his face.

It isn’t until you’re secured in the front seat and Hannibal’s driving out of the parking lot that you summon the courage to utter the question that has been plaguing your mind. “Are you really my husband?”

“Hm?” It’s clear he heard you; he’s giving you a chance to retract the remark. You know you should take it, but… you want to know what’s going on. You need to find an answer for the seemingly irrational fear drumming in your chest and rushing in your ears.

“You say you’re my husband,” You repeat yourself, gaining a bit more confidence. “But I don’t think you are.” For an awful moment, there’s nothing but silence. The car zips along the road. You feel your hand trembling at your side—hopefully the only visible sign of your distress. You clench your shaking hand into a fist and try to remain calm. Panicking won’t do you any good.

“Do you remember how we first met?” Hannibal asks instead. You stare at him in disbelief, surprised by how he completely ignores your accusation. There is an utter lack of emotion on his face. Seconds later, you remember his question and shake your head. “You’re an FBI agent,” Hannibal reveals. “I was called in to perform your psychiatric evaluation.”

Great. Just great. Out of all things, you had to be an FBI agent. The thought of forgetting your work—forgetting all the victims left to die in muddied puddles of crimson, forgetting all the killers with mocking smiles and cruelty written in the lines of their faces—is sincerely troubling.

And Hannibal is a psychiatrist. That seems to fit—you can see him in a needlessly extravagant office, surrounded by books and expensive elegancies. You have to shake your head to get rid of the weirdly vivid imagery that your thoughts produce. “Are you… my psychiatrist, then?” You ask.

“If you wish,” he replies with a mirthful smile. That answer doesn’t satisfy your curiosity—not in the slightest.

“Were you my psychiatrist?” You press. You get the feeling that you need to be asking the right questions in order to get the answers you want. The man across from you is adept at picking apart people’s words, flipping them around and twisting their intended meaning. Your wording will be immensely important.

“I was your psychiatrist, for a time,” Hannibal acquiesces. From that statement, you get the sense that he really was your psychiatrist, until something evidently happened. You ask him as much, but you seem to go too far, because he regards you with an amused glance. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”

“And you’re not giving me any answers,” you feel the need to respond. You have simultaneous suspicions that honesty is dangerous in front of Hannibal, and that he values honesty above sugar-coated words. Your eyebrows furrow. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with information.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal is providing more questions in lieu of answers. He’s definitely hiding something. Sensing that you won’t get anything more from him, you fall silent and settle for staring at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is locked on the road ahead. Despite the time you’ve spent together, talking about your past, you still aren’t totally convinced that you’re married to Hannibal. Is there a way you could test him—test his knowledge of you? Surely there’s something you can ask him to determine if he truly knows you or not.

It comes to you a moment later. “What’s my favorite color?” You ask, before you can think better of it. The man doesn’t react at first, instead staring straight ahead. Just before you can repeat the question, he answers.

“I can’t imagine you have a favorite color,” Hannibal responds. “You once told me the very notion was foolish.”

Okay, he’s sort of correct there. But that was an easy question. You sort through the few memories you have, looking for something you can ask him. “What’s my middle name?” That’s an answer that you just barely know yourself—a memory came back to you a mere few minutes ago, of you and your childhood friend talking about middle names and nicknames and other unimportant things.

Hannibal answers the question correctly again. The two of you must’ve been friends, at the very least. You continue to search your mind for something you can ask him.

Five minutes and several questions later, you’re starting to doubt your own conviction. Hannibal answers every single question correctly, providing you with information you don’t remember but know deep-down to be true. It’s unnerving and disturbing to think that you could’ve forgotten this man so easily. He seems… utterly unforgettable, in every sense of the word. Furthermore, he’s your husband—perhaps you shouldn’t be doubting him so easily.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, before you can quite contemplate your next words. Hannibal’s eyes are locked on the road, but you know he’s listening. “I don’t mean to doubt you, I just- I don’t know what to do. I don’t remember anything, obviously, and… I feel so lost.” You choke out, your throat burning. You bury your head in your hands for a selfish moment, hoping for some solace and clarity.

“Don’t apologize, dear,” Hannibal says. You hate how the remark sends a shiver down your spine. Damn it, why can’t you just be comfortable? This man is practically a dream, so why are you trying to ruin it? Can’t you just accept that, sometimes, you deserve to have nice things?! Hannibal continues, unknowing of your internal dilemma. “You’re going through a lot right now. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

You feel ashamed, knowing that you’ve been holding yourself back despite the fact that Hannibal has shown you nothing but compassion and affection. “I’m… happy you’re here, too,” you say. Guilt prickling in your chest, you impulsively reach out and clasp his free hand resting on the console. Somehow, this surprises your husband, because he stiffens for a second before reciprocating, gripping your hand reassuringly.

“We will get through this,” he promises. You push aside your doubts and decide to believe him.

Maybe things really will be alright. Maybe, you’ll get your memories back sooner rather than later, and you’ll be able to look back on these moments—riddled with doubt, insecurity, wariness—and laugh. You take a deep breath and look out the window, watching the passing trees blur together.

Your hand slips from Hannibal’s and you look at your nails, picking at your cuticles. Your hands are somewhat indicative of the life you led—the one you don’t remember living—with a few scars stretching down your wrist and climbing up your forearm. You look down at the healed wound and frown, trying to remember how you got the scar.

Suddenly, you get a flicker of a memory. It’s faint and fast, but it’s a reminder of the past nonetheless. You squint ahead, trying to focus on keeping the flashback in your mind for long enough to dissect it. You remember… blood. A corpse, perhaps? Yes, a corpse. A woman’s corpse, hoisted and impaled on antlers. You remember… staring at that corpse for so long that you had to be physically led away from the scene, albeit with a gnawing feeling in your gut that something just wasn’t right. You remember… walking into an office, only to be met with Hannibal’s curious gaze. That must’ve been the first time you met the psychiatrist. You put a hand to your temple and try desperately to concentrate.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Hannibal says, effectively throwing your focus. You blink and chance a glance at him. He’s still looking at the road, yet you can’t shake the perplexing conviction that he’s been watching you. What’s more, you can’t shake the feeling that his interjection was purposeful—that he meant to throw you off and break your concentration.

“I- just remembered something,” you choke out, feeling a bolt of pain slide down your scalp to the back of your neck. You bring a hand to the nape of your neck and press, hissing as your fingers glide over sore muscles. “Something important.”

“Congratulations,” Hannibal hums, immune to your internal panic. You don’t know exactly what this man did, but he must’ve done something. Your subconscious is convinced that he is incredibly dangerous, and you feel inclined to trust your gut.

Another flashback arrives, apropos of nothing. You remember sitting across from Hannibal in a finely-decorated room, lined with bookshelves and artifacts. You remember averting your eyes as you speak, desperate to avoid the roaring flames racing up your skin with every additional moment of prolonged eye contact. You remember… a twisted grin on Hannibal’s face. You remember… the intensity to his gaze as he studied you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Unsettled, you shake your head and try to refocus on the passing scenery again. To your surprise, you think you recognize where you are. Hannibal must be taking you home. You take a deep breath. You just have to survive this car ride—then you can figure things out from there. You have all the time in the world to muse on the nature of your injury and the nature of your “husband,” once you’re safely contained within four walls. Right now, though, you need to be wary. You need to have your wits about you, you need to watch for any sudden movements, you need to be ready-

“We’re here,” Hannibal announces, promptly throwing your thought process to a halt. You blink and look ahead, only to find a nondescript home with beige siding and a somewhat weathered front door. Vaguely, you remember pulling your car into this driveway, remember unpacking boxes from your trunk. Yes, this is your house. Hannibal is much quicker on the uptake, as he gets out of the car and walks around the vehicle. You don’t realize that he’s opening the passenger door for you until you feel him staring at you expectantly. You thank him and get to your feet, a sudden bout of dizziness sending you wobbling. Hannibal is there in a moment, steadying you with a hand on your forearm. You pretend not to notice his hand on the small of your back as you walk up the path to the front porch. When you’re finally situated in front of the entrance, you realize that you have no idea where your keys could be.

“Left pocket of your jacket,” Hannibal murmurs, as if reading your mind. You nearly choke on a breath.

“Thanks,” you respond a bit breathlessly. When you finally manage to unlock the front door and swing it open, you turn back to face him. “Well, thank you for the ride.”

“Of course,” Hannibal responds easily. There’s a regretful smile rising on his face. Everything around you fades to obscurity. “I’m afraid this is goodbye.” That remark sounds strangely ominous. Your heart is in your throat.

“Thank you for keeping me company,” you feel the need to say, regardless of your suspicions about the man. He was the only one to visit you. You don’t want to think about how you would feel if you spent your entire hospital visit without a single familiar face. “...Bye.” Suddenly, there’s a hand on your cheek. Hannibal’s hand cradles your jaw, his thumb gently roving along your skin. He regards you for a moment, his eyes sparkling, before kissing you on the cheek and leaving. You watch him return to his car and drive away, apprehension and adrenaline coursing through you. Somehow, you get the feeling that you’ll never see Hannibal again.

Your doorbell rings about an hour later. You look through your peephole, only to find a somewhat intimidating man with his hands shoved in his pockets. You have to focus on quelling the foolish spike of hope that had risen in your chest when the doorbell rang, and the subsequent disappointment at the unfamiliar figure you found. You take a second glance at the stranger, only to find that he looks somewhat familiar. This vague familiarity convinces you to crack your front door open slightly and ask him, “Who are you?”

The man pulls something out of his pocket. “Jack Crawford, FBI,” he answers, showing you his identification card. You stare at him for another moment. “Your boss.” Crawford supplies, when you can’t seem to get the words out. After a few seconds of awkward silence, you decide to invite him inside.

Before long, the two of you are settled in your living room. The tension that first appeared when you opened your front door has yet to fade. You’re not sure why this man has yet to crop up in your memories—he has a rather powerful aura of authority, not to mention the fact that he’s apparently your superior. You decide not to beat yourself up about it. Your memories will come back in due time; until then, you’ll make do with what little you have.

Crawford—Jack, he tells you to call him—clasps his hands over his knees and levels you with an unreadable gaze. “I need to ask you something,” Jack says, rifling through his other pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it slowly, before revealing it to you. “Do you remember this man? Hannibal Lecter?” Jack explains, immune to your growing dread. You feel sick to your stomach as your eyes flit across the black-and-white photograph of the same man who watched over you vigilantly as you recovered, who claimed to be your husband and kissed you on the cheek mere moments ago. “He’s the Chesapeake Ripper—the serial killer who has been evading capture.”

“I-” You stammer, bringing a hand to your temple. Your headache from earlier is returning and your head is spinning from this sudden disclosure. You almost don’t want to believe Jack, but you get the feeling that he’d have no reason to lie to you. If anything, lying would just make his job harder. You take a shuddering breath in, trying to come to terms with the fact that you just narrowly escaped a serial killer’s grasp.

“It’s alright,” Jack tries to reassure you, evidently sensing that you’re growing a bit panicked.

“No, I-” You’re choking on the words. Recent memories are mixing with old, creating a convoluted and murky timeline of events. It’s hard to sort through everything, to find the truths hidden amongst the lies. You’re not sure how long it takes for you to collect your composure and organize your thoughts into a relatively coherent statement. “I saw him. He… visited me in the hospital. He drove me home.”

“What?” Jack asks, utter disbelief written all over his face. You don’t remember your boss very well, but you get the feeling he isn’t usually so expressive. The look on his face would be comical, in a different situation. “What did he say to you?” He implores.

“He said a lot of things… Nothing very important.” You try to recall what you can, but your memories are quickly slipping through your fingertips in granules of sparkling sand. You press a hand to your temple, your headache growing worse as you try to recall what happened. “I tried asking him questions about me, to throw him off, but he knew all the answers.”

Somehow, Jack doesn’t seem surprised by the notion. “You two were… close, before,” your boss evidently settles for saying. There’s a certain suspicion in his voice, as if he suspects you may have been more than “close” with Hannibal. You’re feeling too discombobulated to rise to the bait or bother calling him out on the obvious verbal trap.

“He said ‘goodbye,’” you continue, eyebrows furrowing. Somehow, you get the sense that Hannibal isn’t the type to utter goodbyes. Moreover, a goodbye ushers in a sense of finality, as if you will truly never see him again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, pretending that your exchange with him on your doorstep isn’t replaying in your mind. He kissed me on the cheek, you don’t say to Jack. He said he was my husband. He watched over me in the hospital when no one else did. And it may have been fake, all of it… But that gleam of affection in his eyes didn’t look manufactured—it looked genuine.

Jack looks troubled and somewhat restless. “You’re lucky you made it out alive.” He states. You don’t think you can quite believe his words. For whatever reason, Hannibal Lecter—the Chesapeake Ripper—is interested in you. Whether sick fascination or cloying obsession, you have to face the facts: luck had nothing to do with it. The Ripper kept you alive because, inexplicably, he wants you alive.

And that unnerves you.

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cosmicghoul99 · 6 days

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An interesting Hannibal theory I think you should know about

I'm not sure how many people know this, but if you're unaware, some really interesting things relate to the show and Hannibal's character specifically. (Wanna add that I am not religious, so apologies if I get something wrong. I mean no offense to anyone, this is just a little analysis on my part)

There are a lot of biblical references in the show. It makes sense; religion has always been a deep, moral, and philosophical concept, and Hannibal loves to incorporate the ideas of religion and God into his actions and that of those around him. One of these references is a recurring one. Hannibal is often referred to as the devil. Like this quote from Gideon:

"You really are the devil," Abel Gideon - Antipasto

Or this one from Bedelia:

"Who holds the Devil, let him hold him well. He will hardly be caught a second time." Bedelia Du Maurier - The Wrath of the Lamb

Add this to all the religious imagery, the references to stags and the wendigo, plus the season three discussions about Dante. Bedelia says that she was "swallowed whole" by the beast at the mouth of Hell. You get the picture. There is a lot of talk and allusions to Hannibal being "the Devil."

Obviously, this is a metaphor first and largely used because he is the main "evil" or antagonistic character, but there's actually some truth to this.

Both Bryan Fuller, the creator, and Mads Mikkelsen, the actor of Hannibal, have stated that Hannibal is meant to be the literal devil. He is meant to be both a personification of the devil and the literal devil.

According to Bryan Fuller, Mads Mikkelsen plays Hannibal like he is Lucifer. In an interview, he stated that "he is as close as you can come to the Devil, in the sense that the Devil has no reasons," following it up by saying that Hannibal's reactions aren’t something of a person, but of the Devil. He intentionally plays the character through the lens of the fallen angel, Lucifer. Hannibal is meant to, in the eyes of the actor, be a manifestation of the Devil

Bryan Fuller has also said in interviews and online that he believes Hannibal is the devil. Of course, he states that this is his opinion and that others are up to their own interpretation, but the show's main creator and writer believes this also means that we can reasonably see this in the show.

Throughout the show, Hannibal is simply on another level. Many times, he does not seem human but rather otherworldly. I think that is where Mad's acting presents itself, alongside whenever Hannibal is talking about humanity and God.

Hannibal loves to play at being God and also criticizes God as well. I believe it is in episode three after Will kills Hobbs, that they discuss how Will killing Hobbs felt good. Hannibal responds with this.

"Killing must feel good to God, too... He does it all the time, and are we not created in His image?" Hannibal Lecter - Amuse-Bouche

Oh boy. This is such an interesting line. He talks about being created in His image. Let's be honest; he speaks as if he were God or knows God at least. His comment actually makes more sense if you view this as him being the Devil. Lucifer, the fallen angel, was cast from Heaven for rebelling against God. He feels that it was unjust. Most people talking about God and His actions view him with benevolence. Hannibal does not. In the bible, Lucifer had a problem with humans. And humans are, of course, said to be created in God's image. You could also argue that angels, especially Lucifer, were created in that same image, too. Hannibal has an issue with the rude. Why the rude particular? It is because those who are rude often showcase the worst of humanity's attributes and free will. Hannibal despises the rude because I believe that it, in some ways, represents the hatred that the Devil, or Lucifer, holds for humanity. The Devil had an issue with humans gaining free will and felt they did not deserve life via God's hands. This is similar to how Hannibal feels that those who are rude do not deserve to live. Hannibal, then, of course, being Satan himself, would be resentful of God for casting him from Heaven. Again, Hannibal often discusses God's motives, or what God feels doing certain things. Literally, a few seconds later in that episode, he says this:

"Hannibal: God's terrific. He dropped a church roof on thirty-four of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas while they sang a hymn.

Will: Did God feel good about that?

Hannibal: He felt powerful." Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter - Amuse-Bouche

That last line about him feeling powerful gets me thinking. Hannibal is speaking not just about this but also about his own fall. But more importantly, he's also showing us what he thinks of himself. Killing makes God feel powerful. That means that killing makes Hannibal feel powerful as well. He is both giving motives and somewhat criticizing God at the same time. Hannibal seems to find the situation amusing. I think he believes it quite funny that humans were killed while worshipping God. He might even see a comparison between what happened to him and what happened here. He is simultaneously praising God and calling Him a hypocrite.

Hannibal's motives for killing are also interesting, and I said earlier that I think the reason why he kills is because he believes that rude and ill-tempered people are the problem with humanity. And he wants to get rid of them.

Now, let's explore how this connects with other metaphors, his decisions in canon, and his relationship with Will.

Let's talk about the stag. I did some research, and in many religions, including Christianity, stags represent God and his might, at least from what I could find. I find this interesting because stags are also meant to represent opposition to the snake, another symbol of the Devil. Why is the representation of Hannibal, at least in Will's mind, a stag? I think it actually represents the darkening of Will. If stags are meant to represent good, then that means that Will starts off that way and then slowly follows the stag and is affected by it, which, to me, means that Will is slowly being corrupted. Just like the stag was corrupted due to Hannibal's influence, Will is starting to change and fall deeper and deeper into darkness. It's also interesting that the dynamic between Hannibal and Will is clearly that of one between the Devil and the person they are trying to tempt. Hannibal is trying to tempt Will into changing himself and embracing the darkness inside of him.

Will is Hannibal's realization that humans are actually not that bad. They are complex, and their free will actually makes them relate to him more than he thinks. Will is his weakness, and Hannibal is intrigued by him. If the Devil, which is Hannibal, is the snake, then, in Hannibal's own words, Will is the mongoose that preys on the snake. Hannibal originally fell because of humans, and at the end of the series, he falls because of humanity again. He fell for Will. Will is meant to represent the lamb of God. The symbolism is that Hannibal fell for Will, who sacrificed himself to keep the Devil away, getting corrupted in the process.

Dolarhyde is also a factor. The original painting, "The Great Red Dragon," represents Satan. How does that tie into this idea? I think it's not Dolarhyde who is meant to be Satan; rather, it is Hannibal. We know that Dolyrhde idolizes Hannibal in a sense. Like Will and many of his other patients, which I'll get into later, Francis is influenced by what Hannibal says. Yet another temptation by the Devil. This is also connected to Will coming into his own life because Francis is also manipulated by Will. There is a connection between Hannibal and Will, which is shared via the tempting and manipulation of Francis.

I mean, we have this statement by Jack talking about The dragon, the lamb, etc. Jack says that,

"He's not the Dragon, you are. The Devil himself bound in the pit." Jack Crawford

Hannibal compares Jack to God. But I think they both are, in some way.

Many of Hannibal's patients and the people in his life, in general, are manipulated by him. I mean, some of his patients are tempted and influenced by him to do bad things commit crimes, and murder people. That's very indicative of the Devil's work, in my opinion. Even Jack and Alana end up being manipulated and deceived by him.

There is a lot of other religious imagery and symbolism, so I'll only discuss some of it. To start with, the reference to Bedelia's presentation and Hannibal's name in Italy and what they could represent. I mentioned earlier that in season 3, Bedelia talks about her time in Florence with Hannibal. She talks about how Dante gave a physical space to Hell, a solid concept, but before that, people would say, the "mouth of Hell." Then she says that she was "swallowed by the beast." This refers to Hannibal, but here's the interesting thing. In the Bible, the Devil is also referred to as the Beast. Bedelia is yet again referring to herself being used and brought into the mouth of Hell by the Beast, Hannibal. The name that Hannibal was monikered by in Italy is also the same. "Il Mostro" translates to the monster, which can be interpreted as yet another way to refer to the devil. Then, there is the obvious references to lambs in the show, with it being a sacrificial symbol. I'm sure that's been talked about a lot, and I mentioned it earlier.

There are many mentions of justice, redemption, retribution, and more in the show. This connects with the religious themes, of course, but it also plays into Hannibal's view of himself as a God, as well as how the show depicts him as the Devil. He is the one who casts judgment onto people, like his patients, and onto the rude, like a God. He is the one who issues punishment for sins and misdeeds, like the Devil. I think it's so interesting to see them both working in tandem.

I once saw a post saying that Hannibal acts like he's lived the same life a hundred or so times. And I agree. He does. He acts like he has been around for a time so long that many have forgotten it. It makes sense why he's so confident, and nothing seems to phase him. Nothing that happens has any consequence for him. The only thing, really, that he cares about is Will. That's why he tries to get Will to have his Becoming and Fall with him. He wants Will to be there with him. Which is sweet, I think :) And not to bring up related trauma for anyone that has ever been a fan of Devilman or Devilman Crybaby, but IMO, it really really reminds me of Akira and Ryo and how Ryo is stuck in the same cycle over and over again as a lesson. Idk, my opinion. Let me know what you think.

I also wanted to touch on some other interpretations of the raven stag shown alongside the wendigo and how other religions and beliefs might relate to this.

The Wendigo is a demonic entity or evil spirit from the Algonquian people of Canada. It is a winter spirit that is meant to represent greed and gluttony. When humans succumb to greed, like being greedy for money, being cruel to people, or generally evil things, the Wendigo spirit can possess you. During harsh winters, when food is scarce, people commit taboo acts and consume another human, participating in cannibalism. This also causes a possession and turns this person into a wendigo, never to be satisfied and constantly craving forever. I am not Algonquian, or even Indigenous/Native American, so I can't speak too much on this, and I don't know too much, but I hope I explained it well enough. I apologize if I did not. The show has its own visualization of this, and Wendigos traditionally doesn't look like the one in the show, but the overall message is the same. Even if Hannibal is not the Devil, he could be some manifestation of a Wendigo. It makes sense. Remember his back story? He was forced into captivity while hiding by soldiers during an extremely harsh winter during the war. Harsh enough that food became scarce, and the soldiers had to resort to cannibalism. They fed Mischa to Hannibal, which might have triggered something. Ofc this is a reach, but I did want to bring another interpretation into this.

Obviously, this is all just speculation. I love this show, with its dark complexities and incredible depth, and I wanted to talk about something I've been thinking about for a while now. Again, not everything might be correct. I apologize if that's not the case. Please feel free to correct me. I also apologize if this made no sense or was not cohesive, it's pretty late for me, but I couldn't get this out of my head.

I hope it was interesting ;)

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannigram #just a little analysis #i'm sleep deprived so apologies if this makes no sense #i just really wanted to share

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marksbear · 11 months

Text

MULTI FANDOM MALE READER SCENARIOS

It’s been a while since I done one of these, but I think it’ll be good for me to practice more at writing different characters and such so enjoy!

The fact is I had more tags to share 😭

-Miguel O’Hara biting your neck harshly to get your attention when he feeling jealous. Or marking you as his.

-Izzy Hands always lightly taking your hand and helping you either up the steps or down the steps. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it most time. Everyone in the ship always notices it but doesn’t say anything.

^^Ofmd

-Bob taking off his glasses and putting them on you then starts to compliment you how good and cute you look.

^^Top gun!

-Matt Murdock tracing your face in morning when he thinks your still sleep. He also traces your face anytime your two are arguing because he wants to see your emotions.

^^Marvel

-You and The Corinthian driving around during late nights with his hand on your thigh as he drives you around.

^^DC

-Tony stark buying you whatever you want or even dream of. It can be jewelry all the way to new houses and cars.

^^Marvel

-Bruce Wayne and you being a power couple throughout Gotham. Lots of magazines and headline about you two.

^^DC

-Teaching Adam Warlock about feelings about like having a crush or being in love.

^^Marvel

-You and Doom head being an unstoppable duo anytime you two are paired up in a game.

^^Rob Zombie movie 31

-You and Richard Madden making fun of each other accents in interviews for the newest movie you two are in.

^^Actor

-You and Hobie Brown making out in a middle of Miguel’s rant.

^^Marvel

-Homelander wrapping his arms around you as you two makeout and he slowly rises from the ground bringing you in the air with him.

^^The Boys

-You we’re very close with Love to the point all lot of people thought you two were dating. Joe was furious so he started to stalk you planing to murder, but all that stalking for weeks slowly became to months and he slowly started to catch feelings.

^^YOU

-Benedict Bridgeton being so in love with you, but he so scared that his family would disown him as well as everyone around town.

^^Bridgeton

-You and Benedict sneaking off during ball’s and random events to be with each other alone.

^^Bridgeton

-Imagine sitting down in the bleachers waiting for Mark to be done with his track meet.

^^Author/ Me

-Playing with Dutch Van der linde hair during a camp meeting and he tries to stay focus but he can’t.

^^RD2

-You and Larry smoking as you two listen to Sal play the guitar.

^^Sally Face

-Ted feeling ashamed after he realized that he caugt feelings for you even though your a player.

^^Ted Lasso

-When Dean first met you y’all both were very young. You were reckless and carefree while Dean was taking care of Sam and brought him along while you two hanged out. And he caught feelings, but he was confused about why he had feelings for a man so he kept it to himself.

^^SPN

-Helping Mark walk without his leg brace or crutches.

^^Author/Me

-Stu Marcher giving you neck kisses in the middle of class. And most of the time teachers sees him and gives you both detention.

^^Slashers

-Hannibal Lecter leaving bite marks all over your neck and shoulders.

^^Slashers

-Roy Kent being soft spoken and quiet anytime he’s with you.

^^Ted Lasso

-Larry Trainor slowly warmed up to you being his boyfriend so he lets you touch his skin underneath the bandages.

^^DC

-Anytime before a fight Arthur asks you to hold his hands. He says it’s for a good luck, but he’s just really stressed and tense.

^^Peaky blinders

-Steven Grant still being so shy and quiet with you even though you two has been dating for years.

^^Marvel

-Bringing Namor gifts like flowers, jewelry and even little things like a picture of yourself or a padlock necklace. He cherishes all of them and keeps them safe.

^^Marvel

-Meeting Namor on the beach at night almost every night.

^^Marvel

-Bobby and Athena inviting you into their relationship. They both didn’t cheat on each other to find about their feelings for you they just kinda knew one day and talked it out and for a while and a lot of thought they asked would you be willing to date them.

^^9-1-1

-Being a rich man while Steven is your trophy husband.

^^Marvel

-Dying your hair with mark.

^^Author/Me

-Watching Mark stay up all night writing just for him to randomly stop to watch a movie.

^^Author/Me

-Lee and Maren catching you eating a person right in the middle of a dark and empty road.

^^Bones and All

-Being a different love interest for Elio and being heartbroken once he chose Oliver over you.

^^Call me by your name

-Imagine rejecting Derek Shepheard after finding out he has a wife.

^^Greys anatomy

-Rue hugging and crying on you tight after she relapsed.And you being her favorite person ever since what happened with Jules and Elliot.

^^Euphoria

-Being a father figure to Rue.

^^Euphoria

-Imagine being Maddy Perez brother and finding out Nate pulled a gun on her so you pulled up to his house barged in and looked for him and beat the shit out of him.

^^Euphoria

-Billy Hargrove acting like he hates the nickname “Curls.” Or “Curly.” But when you say it he loves it.

^^Stranger things

THE END

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khami-the-raccoon · 4 months

Note

I’m not sure if you take requests but could you do Hannibal or hannigram (your choice!) with a darling who eats a lot? Like they’ll eat four times their weight in food and still have room for dessert?

Hello! Thank you for your request and I’m sorry if this took too long! I chose to do it with Hannigram :) I hope it’s okay and you like it, have a great day!

Hannigram x GN! Reader

Summary: Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x GN! Reader who eats a lot without changes in their body.

Word count: 564

General Masterlist

Hannibal Lecter Masterlist

Will Graham Masterlist

In a secluded villa nestled among the picturesque landscapes of Tuscany, Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham had found a beautiful place to live, away from the prying eyes of the world. The charming aroma of Italian cuisine filled the air, as the couple engaged in their daily routine. Hannibal, impeccably dressed as always, expertly chopped vegetables while Will, more relaxed, sipped on a glass of red wine.

Will chuckled, glancing over at Hannibal. "Who would have thought we'd end up here, miles away from everything, living the life we always wanted” he said. Leaving his glass of wine aside for a moment to caress his dog’s little head lovingly.

Hannibal smiled, his eyes meeting Will's. "It's our little haven, where we can be ourselves without judgment." He said while looking at Will care for their dogs.

Their tranquil existence took an unexpected -but amazing- turn when Y/N entered their lives. A vibrant personality with an insatiable appetite, Y/N brought an energy that even Hannibal found intriguing. Y/N became part of their family quite quickly, bringing happiness and new experiences for Will and Hannibal.

Y/N chuckled heartily, taking another bite of the pasta Hannibal had prepared for Will and Y/N. "You really know how to cook! I've never tasted anything like this back home."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow but kept smiling. "And where exactly is home for you, Y/N?" He asked. He wanted to know more about Y/N’s homeland. Maybe he could prepare them a dish from their country.

Y/N wiped their mouth and smiled. "Oh, just a place far, far away. I stumbled upon this little paradise and thought, 'Why not join the fun?'"

Will smirked, pouring more wine. "You've got an adventurous spirit, I'll give you that."

As the days passed, the trio found themselves sharing laughter and delicious meals. One evening, after a particularly extravagant feast, Y/N leaned back in their chair, patting their satisfied stomach.

"I don't know how you two stay so refined with your meals. I mean, seriously, I could eat double what I just did!” Y/N said with a little laugh.

Hannibal, ever the curious one, observed Y/N with an amused glint in his eyes. "Your appetite is impressive, Y/N. I must say, I've never seen someone indulge so gracefully."

Y/N chuckled. "Well, I believe in enjoying life to the fullest. Food is one of the great pleasures, don't you think?"

Will nodded, grinning. "You certainly live by that philosophy, Y/N."

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N's presence became an integral part of their daily lives. The trio shared dinners all the time, engaging in intellectual discussions about books and history, that only seemed to deepen their connection.

One night, as they sat under the stars, Y/N leaned in, a mischievous glint in their eyes. "You know, you two are quite the power couple. I feel lucky to be a part of it."

Hannibal's lips curled into a small smile. "Most people may think we’re an unconventional trio, but life is too short to conform to norms."

Will added, "Besides, our little haven here allows us to be whoever we want to be."

And so, in the quiet serenity of their Tuscan retreat, Hannibal, Will, and Y/N kept sharing their love in a way not every couple or trio can.

#male reader #fanfic #x male reader #writing #trans male reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #hannibal x male reader #gn reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #hannibal x will #hannibal x you #Hannibal GN reader #will x hannibal #willgrahamxgnreader #will graham x male reader #will graham x reader

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shegatsby · 1 year

Note

Hi, please don't kill me with this request, but can you do one where female reader is invited by Will and Hannibal at Hannibal 's home but it's a trap, please? Warning:Non-con

A/N; Hi! Thank you for the request. Sorry for any typos please enjoy and don't forget to leave a comment.

Warnings; Kidnapping, non-con etc.

Y/N was always careful with her steps and actions, she loved to play mind games with her peers at university but they were too dumb or too stoned to notice so she started to get bored and decided to play with older ones.. like her two professors. Doctor Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. Everyone knew that they were solving murder cases for the FBI and also teaching at Baltimore University, they had a lot of fans who were their students, asking questions about the cases but of course they were profesionall so they kept teaching and never revealing.

It had been 6 months ever since she started to play, first she left a dead dog on the steps of Doctor Lecter's doorsteps.. too bold? Perhaps. She didn't forget to leave a note but she didn't write it herself, she just printed it and left it there.

the note said; ''Let's play.''

The first week after she did that was silent, of course it made it to the local news but neith Lecter nor Graham said anything.

Next week she broke into the morgue and found a person's chopped off hand and then left it at Graham's bedroom. This would get them fired up she thought.

Of course what she did made it to the local news and people started to talk. She loved the attention, even though no one knew who did it.

After the lecture with Doctor Lecter, she packed her things and headed to his office, he kept saying that his office is open for everyone and she needed few books.

She knocked on the door two times gently and waited for his silk voice to respond, ''Come in.''

As soon as she walked in his rich perfume hit her nostrils and she had to calm her senses. ''Miss Y/L/N, please take a seat.'' he seemed surprised even though she frequently visited him.

''Hi Doctor Lecter, I just wanted to get few ideas about the assignment you gave us. Also if I could borrow few books on that matter.'' you gave your cutest smile, Hannibal got used to your frequent visits and small talks at the corridors, his arm brushing yours ever so slightly, ''Of course,'' he said leaving whatever he was doing and giving her his full attention. There was something in her eyes, something mischievous.

He stood up to bring her few books, he on purpose placed to books on her lap, arms bushing, just to see her reaction. Instead of getting shy she raised and eye brow with a small smirk forming at the corner of her pretty mouth. It was a dangerous game that they were playing.

He sat back on his comfortable seat, ''Would you like to have dinner with me and Mr. Graham? It would be an eye opening conversation.''

A dinner invitation from Doctor Lecter was a privilege because his dinner parties were famous and not everyone could get in.

''I would love that.''

''Excellent! I will e-mail you the details.''

She wore a black dress and high heels, she had natural make up with red lips, she was giddy with excitement.

The door was opened by Will Graham because Doctor Lecter was in the kitchen fibishing up the last touches of the dessert,

''Please come in.'' Will's blue eyes roamed her up and down and she could see the pink dust on his cheeks, he liked what he saw.

Will took her to the dining room where the fireplace was lit and warm. Hannibal walked in with tree plates of dessert and stopped in his tracks for a split second when he saw her. ''Hello Y/N.'' his voice was as always neutral but his movements changed, which didn't go unnoticed by her.

During the dinner the conversation was philosophical and they were discussing ethos a.k.a ethics. Hannibal casually unbottened his navy jacket to place a newpaper on the dining table, it was a local newspaper and what she saw stopped her, it was crime.

She was caught, instead of denying she got her glass of red wine, laid back on the chair and took a large sip, ''I was bored. Do you have any idea to be surrounded by idiots all day?!'' it was a rhetorical question.

''Well,'' Will finally spoke, ''You wanted our attention now you have it.''

She finished her wine, placed it elegently on the brown table, ''I want in.'' she said Hannibal wiped his mouth with a white cloth and looked at her deeply, ''Elaborate on that please.'' it was a demand.

''No offens but lectures are boring. I want to be on the crime scenes. Consider this as an internship.'' she played like she had all the cards, ''Why would we allow that?'' Will asked standing up and and coming closer to her side, he placed his large hand on her chair, she could feel the weight.

''Because you both want me.'' she said looking directly at Hannibal Lecter, she noticed their primal attraction towards her few months ago and to be sure she played few tricks and they both fell into it, it doesn't matter if you're a world-wide known psychiatrist or forensic scientist... you are a human being and you have urges.

Hannibal quickly stood up to stand on her other side, placed his hand on her chair just like Will did. ''This could be fun.'' his other hand went to her throat and squezzed it, not too harsh but not too gentle.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal the cannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal fanfiction #will graham fanfic #hannibal lecter x will graham #mads mikkelsen x you #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen imagine #one shot fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction prompt #fanfiction #request #requests open #requests are open

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devildom-moss · 9 months

Note

Hello first of all i just wanna say that i love your writings! Especially on how you write solomon it always gives me butterflies 🦋👌

Can i request something like, an alternate, smutty ending for his recent ur card i forgot the name but its where mc and him watched a horror movie and mc got a nightmare after that so sol offered to sleep together, because it had SO much potential. Gn!mc if you may.

That is all thank you so much for sharing your works with us have a nice day and stay hydrated! ⭐️

Thank you so much. I hope that this Solomon fic will also provide you with butterflies. Luckily, I had this card, so I was able to pull from the original story line better. I'll be honest, my own personally kind of dark-loving and horny brain influenced the first half of this a lot. Anyway, I hope you like it! I'm sorry it took soooo long.

For anyone who doesn't have the card or just wants a useful refresher: Solomon had MC watch a "The Silence of the Lambs"-esque movie with him. They decide to sleep in Solomon's room together because why not - but Solomon has a guest bed, so you sleep in separate beds. MC has a nightmare about Solomon going all Hannibal Lecter on them. Solomon wakes them up (MC was moaning in their sleep), and Solomon decides that they should share a bed to help MC sleep. I picked up the story in the nightmare, because I spell it whore-or.

Solomon - The Gourmand's Main Dish card alt ending (NSFW)

(Solomon x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (NSFW tags: switch(ish)!Solomon and MC, bottom!Solomon, top!MC, light bondage, oral - receiving, Solomon riding MC's cock/strap on, hands free riding, begging, check-in's and overall very sweet sex, a bit of fear-play kinda?, implied intent to cockwarm, me writing Solomon as a loud, moaning mess) (other tags: dark themes, mentions of cannibalism, MC is a little unhinged in the face of dream/evil Solomon, some awkward moments, blood, knifeplay?, some of the dark themes written with a hint of sexiness)

Word Count: +2700

“Try the Demonus, my dear,” Solomon cooed, sliding a chilled glass filled with a sweet-smelling red liquid towards you.

The moonlight shining through the large dining room windows brought a soft cool glow that balanced out the warmth of the candlelight, creating an odd natural white. It left you unnerved, as if when Solomon had woken you up for breakfast, you were still stuck in a hauntingly quiet Devildom night – not that the lighting was ever much different between night and morning in the Devildom anyway. Maybe you just didn’t feel right because you could have sworn you fell asleep in Solomon’s room last night, only to have him wake you up in your own bed. It was all so disorienting that you wished the effects of Demonus worked on humans. You could stand to chill your nerves a bit.

The looming threat of Solomon’s breakfast offer – one that he advertised as a special treat for you – also weighed heavy on your mind. When he brought out what he referred to as “the appetizer,” which he had made a point to whisper into your ear as he set your plate in front of you, the fear of having to politely decline more than one dish came over you.

Admittedly, the dish that Solomon brought out looked surprisingly edible, but you refused to be fooled. The temptation continued as Solomon gracefully brought the fork to his lips. He had even dressed up in a fine suit for the occasion; it seemed a shame not to give him a chance. However, your better judgment held firm as you sipped at the glass of Demonus. Your eyes couldn’t leave Solomon, and the light that reflected off his soft, silver hair only made him more enchanting. His eyes were dark and hungry as his gaze flashed up at you.

“Oh, my dear, what’s the matter?” His eyes softened up, and an off-putting smile formed along his pretty pink lips. “Are you not hungry yet?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not very hungry this morning.”

“That’s a shame,” he let out a gentle chuckle, “but perhaps you’ll change your mind for the main course. I still have to prepare it, but it will be well worth the wait, my dear.”

Solomon pat his mouth with a napkin before he stood and left the room. His return was accompanied by a cold metallic scrape. You turned your head to see him sharpening a large knife as he slowly approached the table. You gulped. His ominous gait and deliberate strikes along the edge of the blade instilled a dread in you that only dug deeper into your chest when you realized that – barring the knife and sharpening rod – Solomon had returned empty-handed.

To your recollection, although you had scarcely taken your eyes off Solomon during the appetizer, there wasn’t another dish on the table. However, you were too afraid to double check; you weren’t sure what would happen if you looked away from him now. Solomon stopped directly at your side, forcing you to stare up at the wicked grin on his lips. You felt frozen in that chair.

“I feel honored that you can’t seem to pull your gaze away from me today. You must be so sweet.” That was a strange way to phrase it, and his words did nothing to reduce your growing unease. The tension in your body was different than the usual nervousness Solomon caused in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s the main course, Solomon?” you asked anxiously, despite the heavy lump in your throat. Somehow, you were already certain of his answer and were just seeking confirmation.

Solomon leaned down to whisper in your ear, “why, it’s you, of course.”

And there it was: confirmation. Solomon dragged the tip of the blade up your thigh. You held your breath and waited for the gentle scraping sound to stop. Solomon continued to drag the knife up your stomach. You squirmed back into your seat, attempting to put some distance between the knife and your body, but that displeased Solomon.

He clicked his tongue and quickly brought the blade to your throat. “Nuh-uh-uh. Please, don’t struggle. I want to take my time carving you up nice and pretty, but if you’re going to squirm, I’ll slice up that soft little throat first. Now, behave, and allow me, my little lamb.”

You let out a shaky breath as Solomon dropped the knife down to your chest. He cut the top button of your shirt off, using the dull edge of the blade to pull your collar back. If only you could get the knife out of his hand without getting injured – but some sick, depraved hope kept you still as you watched Solomon’s wicked gaze light up.

A dull sting accompanied the ring of metal running against a surface and Solomon’s contented sigh. You could feel the blood beading up along the skin just above your collar bone. Solomon kept the knife pressed against your abdomen as he licked along the cut, stopping to suck on your skin. The sting of his saliva and the cut didn’t detract from the pleasure of his tongue and lips on you as much as you would have preferred. A shiver ran up your spine.

It was said that fortune favors the bold; perhaps boldness could preserve you. Somewhat abashed, you asked, “are we going to fuck first?”

Solomon stopped sucking on your skin and pulled away, still leaving the knife against you. He clicked his tongue. “Now, now. Don’t be vulgar. It’s impolite.”

“I’m sorry,” you lied. Annoyance briefly overcame your fear, “cursing is impolite, but non-consensual cannibalism is fine. Understood.”

“MC.”

“No, my bad.” you shut your eyes and sighed. “I misread the situation. Just – listen – go ahead. But if I find out you waited until after I was dead, I’m going to be so disappointed in you. Honestly, Solomon.”

“MC!” Solomon’s voice seemed to echo throughout the room so loudly that you felt the entire house shake. When you opened your eyes again, Solomon was leaning over you, concern overflowing in his eyes. That eerie smile was gone.

You weren’t in the dining room anymore. You were back in Solomon’s bedroom.

“Are you okay, MC?” Solomon stroked your cheek with the back of his fingers. His cool hand eased some of the tension in your body. You smiled up at him, nodding. This was the Solomon you knew and loved. A sigh of relief left Solomon’s lips and his shoulders relaxed. However, his face was more flustered than before, and he was tinted pink up to his ears. “You were moaning in your sleep. You weren’t dreaming about me, were you?”

“I was,” you admitted. “You tried to eat me!”

Solomon’s eyes went wide. “I did?”

“You were going to carve me up and have MC-sashimi.”

“Oh,” Solomon nearly choked on his assumptions. You meant eat literally. Shame and guilt overtook Solomon’s embarrassment when he realized you had a nightmare, and it was probably because he made you watch that movie right before bed. “I’m so sorry, MC. This is my fault. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Can you stay with me – at least for a while?” In truth, you felt better after seeing Solomon’s sweet face again – not that evil, dream Solomon, but the real one. You just wanted to be closer to him. You moved over, giving him a bit more room to join you.

Solomon crawled into bed and turned on his side to face you. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I kind of like being so close to you. Maybe we should have slept in the same bed to begin with. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Can you hold me?” you asked. Solomon looked flustered again.

“I actually – well, I can, but,” Solomon tried to find the right words. “I got a bit hard after hearing you moaning so much in your sleep. I’m sorry! It happened before I realized you were in distress. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, but if you don’t mind it, I’ll hold you.”

You chuckled and sat up so you could crawl over Solomon and push him on his back. He was still blushing as he stared up at you. “How could I have been so scared in my dream? You’re being adorable right now.”

You trailed kisses down the side of his neck, catching the faintest tremble of his pulse under your lips as his heart began to race. A stifled moan vibrated in his throat. Solomon was biting his lip just to restrain his need. You weren’t going to give him that, so you kissed him. Even if he wanted to be quiet, you were the only one who was going to bite his lips.

Perhaps the roles were reversed in the real world. You had Solomon captured, and you wanted to eat him up. Your tongue teased him, and his moaning was increasingly desperate. Solomon’s restraint was crumbling. You felt him grind his hips up into you, craving more friction.

“Please, MC,” Solomon whined, “if you keep going, I won’t be able to hold back.”

You refused to heed his warning. Instead, you egged him on. “Then don’t hold back.”

One of your hands dipped between your bodies to rub over the bulge in Solomon’s pants. He took advantage of your diminished support to flip you on your back and straddle your hips. As he dipped down to kiss your neck, you felt his erection rub against your lower abdomen. The tremble in his breath tickled your skin as he made his way down. Solomon stopped at your collarbone and lapped at it with his hot tongue before he started to suck on it.

Your mind flashed back to the way dream Solomon had sucked on you, and a wave of fright washed over you. You pushed against Solomon’s chest gently.

“I’m sorry,” Solomon apologized as he sat back up. “Did I do something wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“No, I don’t. I just. . .” you trailed off. You knew it was silly to be afraid – especially because even when you were afraid in the dream, you were still turned on. It was confusing, and that was all the more reason to want to forget about it and just focus on fucking Solomon.

Solomon could see the worry on your face, and he correctly guessed that it had something to do with the nightmare you had. A characteristically Solomon idea popped into his mind, and, impeded by desire and without a second thought, he offered, “you could let me eat you.”

“What?!” Your breath caught in your throat.

Just as you were about to struggle under him, Solomon got off you with a gentle smile. He walked to his dresser and pulled a deep red silk scarf from the top drawer. You stared at him, cautious and confused. Solomon stood at the foot of the bed, turned his back to you, and crossed his arms at the wrists behind him.

“Can you tie these nice and secure for me?” Solomon chimed with a playful tone. He stood there patiently as you slowly shuffled to the edge of the bed. You took the red scarf from his hand and tied his wrists together snuggly.

“What now?” you asked.

Solomon turned around and looked down at you with a shy grin. He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, turning his eyes up to you. “Use my mouth however you want.”

You mouthed “oh” and sat down in front of Solomon. He could tell you were anxious, and he just wanted you to feel comfortable. You wanted the same for him.

“Can you back up for a second, sweetheart?” you asked him, and he complied. You stood up and slid out of your pants and underwear, setting them on the floor on the other side of Solomon’s bed, before you sat back down. You reached behind you to grab one of Solomon’s pillows and placed it on the floor right in front of your feet – a cushion for Solomon to kneel on. He smiled up at you, surprised and delighted by your simple act of care; his heart was melting and threatening to flood his chest.

When you opened your legs, Solomon took that as permission to approach. He settled into his spot at your feet – between your legs. Those soft, hazel eyes stared up at you, eager and hungry. Solomon wet his lips, looking as if he was about to beg “please.” And he was. “Please, can I taste you?”

He was too cute for words, so you snaked your fingers into his hair and pulled him gently towards you. Solomon nuzzled against your thigh and sucked at your skin softly before he turned his attention to his main course. Between dream Solomon’s sensual attack and Solomon’s cute gestures, you were already aroused.

Solomon moaned with his first taste of you. Gentle vibrations traveled up your body. The room was soon filled with the wet noises Solomon was making and his muffled moaning and whining. Even the feeling of Solomon’s hot breath was amazing. You couldn’t stop yourself from panting and moaning. His mouth was too good.

That hot mouth and skilled tongue was enough to bring you to the edge. Solomon had you twitching and trembling as he continued to swirl his tongue around you through your orgasm. You had to tug his hair and pull him back to avoid overstimulation.

Solomon licked his lips, ensuring every drop made it into his mouth before he swallowed. “You taste divine.”

You bent down and kissed him gently, feeling his slightly swollen lips against yours. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Not so scared of getting eaten anymore, are you?”

“No,” you admitted.

“Good,” Solomon grinned, lust still heavy in his eyes. “But, MC, can you help me now?”

“How so, sweetheart?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Solomon admitted, rubbing his thighs together. You could see that he was still hard. Your eyes softened, and you stroked his hair. Of course you’d fuck him, but Solomon interjected before you could agree. “But you must be a bit tired. So, maybe I could ride you, instead?”

“Can you stand up for me, sweetheart?” you asked him.

Solomon slowly got to his feet for you, and once he was steady, you helped him out of his pants and underwear. His cock nearly bounced up. He wished he could have hidden himself at least slightly.

You left Solomon standing there while you readied yourself for him (either by getting yourself hard again or by grabbing the dildo and strap harness from a box in Solomon’s bedside table). Solomon’s eyes never left you, eager to feel you inside of him. As you applied lube, Solomon’s eyes followed your hand’s slow strokes. He had been patient all night, but it was almost too much.

“Are you ready for me?” Solomon asked – a desperate plea to let him ride you.

You laid back in his bed and told him, “Go on.”

Solomon kneeled onto the bed and crawled over you. His hands were still tied behind his back as he lowered himself onto you slowly. A pretty whimper escaped his parted mouth. He was already unravelling by the time he took you all the way, but he wanted more. He needed it. You watched Solomon’s brows knit together and his eyes shut as he bounced on you. The sight was too sexy; you couldn’t leave all the fun to him.

When you bucked up into him, Solomon responded with sweet whining. His stomach flexed and his back arched. You took that as an invitation to slip your hands up his shirt and rub his chest, teasing his nipples. His moaning grew louder and more desperate. Solomon’s precum began to drip onto your stomach. Maybe you should thank Diavolo for ensuring that you had no neighbors or housemates to disturb.

“Keep fucking me,” Solomon moaned, “I’m so close.”

You obliged him. As you watched him inch closer to climaxing, you felt comfort in knowing that this man could never hurt you. It was too easy to reduce him to the slutty, moaning mess that he was now. Solomon came all over your stomach. His face was flushed as he stared down at you and the mess he made. You reached behind him to untie the silk scarf, which he then used to wipe you clean.

It was clear in the way that Solomon grinned – blissful and affectionate – that he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. “You should sleep in my room more often.”

#anon #ask #requests #solomon #spice tier #gn!mc #obey me #obey me solomon #solomon x mc #solomon smut #obey me smut

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pesky--dust · 10 months

Text

I feel like it's harder for me to express my thoughts lately, but I've been thinking a lot about Beverly Katz and I cannot stand being alone with my thoughts anymore, so I’m sorry.

When Will was in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Beverly was one of the few people who visited him there. She needed his help at work, but at the same time, we know that even before, without any hidden motives, she genuinely cared about his life. We also know she's the oldest child in the family. It is very common for the oldest children to feel responsible for their younger siblings.

I believe she feels the same sense of responsibility towards Will, like if he is her younger brother, which is why she tries to be there for him when he needs comfort.

Beverly is in a few episodes, but I won’t write about every single of them. I'm going to focus on the things that support my thesis about her perceiving Will as her younger sibling.

In Amuse Bouche she asks him about his well-being, tries to joke with him (he had just killed a man, to protect an innocent person and himself!), teaches him how to hold a gun properly.

In Coquilles she again shows concern about his condition and I have the impression that in this dialogue she speaks to him like to a child she doesn’t want to frighten:

In Buffet froid there is a lot of interactions between them. First, when panicked Will races out into the hallway, she stares at him and asks with a hint of concern “Will?”. When Will tries to reassure himself he didn’t kill Beth LeBeau, he calls Beverly and when she hears he called her, because he is not entirely sure what he saw was real, the script says “That admission almost breaks her heart, but it doesn't show.”. She tells him that he is the subject of a lot of speculation at the bureau, since people speculating that Jack pushed him right up to the edge and now he is pushing himself over. Later in the same episode she checks Will for evidence that would tell he killed Dr. Sutcliffe and reassures him that there's nothing that would indicate he is the person responsible for killing Dr. Sutcliffe.

When Will is arrested for evidence suggesting he killed Abigail Hobbs, Beverly is unable to maintain complete professionalism and talks to him while collecting evidence from his body. She tells him she didn't want to find anything on him, but since Will always says he's interpreting evidence, he should do it now. She is angry, disappointed and she says, “You should have recused yourself from any investigation. (...) However far over the edge you were leaning, I was hoping that you wouldn’t fall.”

As I have written already — when Will is in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Beverly is one of the few people who visits him there. They make a deal — he helps her with work, she tries to prove he is innocent and she is going to check Hannibal Lecter. We know how it ends for her — Hannibal kills her and Will is needed to resolve this case. Here is a piece of the script from this scene:

Later Will tries to kill Hannibal Lecter by proxy, because he is mad about everything Hannibal caused in his life; he knew about Will’s encephalitis, framed him for his crimes, killed Abigail Hobbs and Beverly, Will's only friend.

However it turns out Will has to change tactic and he ends up falling in love with Hannibal, they are known as murder husbands! On the one hand, I imagine that because of that Beverly has to turn in her grave because she died trying to prove that Hannibal was guilty of crimes Will was accused of, and on the other hand, Will and Beverly really liked each other, and in my opinion, Beverly felt like his older sister, so I feel torn because I think she would, to some extent, enjoy Will's happiness anyway. One way or another, man, this whole situation is sick, especially if you look at it from Beverly's perspective.

#hannibal #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #beverly katz #beverly katz my beloved #poor beverly #will graham #beverly katz and will graham's relationship #hannigram #murder husbands #hannibal analysis #hannibal meta #at least i guess it's meta/analysis #hannibal script

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fromthepinnacle2thepit · 23 days

Text

cervi e consumo

hannibal lecter x reader

chapter 2: il sentiero

well you made it though your first session with Dr. Lecter! how will the second go?

a/n: song inspiration for this chapter: lacrimosa by mozart

hello!! i just wanna say thank you so much for reading. just a warning: this chapter contains descriptions of a panic attack and brief descriptions of a car accident with an animal. if this is something that might bother you i recommend doing what’s best for you mentally. enjoy!!

tags: @flow33didontsmoke

chapter 2: il sentiero

Your first session with Dr. Lecter had gone well. You were still a bit apprehensive as to what you might show the man so far, but he had given you lots to think on.

He truly impressed you so far. From what you could gather, he not only was incredibly intellectual, but also a man of philosophy. You could admire that. Hell, you already admired him. He seemed good at his profession. Already, he’d referenced the work of Dante.

“The path to paradise begins in hell, as Dante put once. Just as you right now are in low conditions in your mind, I have to imagine that we always have brighter places to work towards.” he had said, his deep voice rang clearly across the room.

You had thought about it, and he had been right. You’ve got to start somewhere, even if it’s hell. Though you felt dramatic for calling your current situation “hell”. You appreciated how well-read he was though. It had inspired you.

An hour later you were sitting with a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy in your lap, weighing down on your legs. The cover had a painting behind the title and other writings on the cover. You scanned the faces that were shown, and in interest, made out two figures, staring at legs coming out of the ground. For such a classic renowned book, it sure did have a strange cover. But the wisdom in your psychiatrists words had inflicted a curiosity upon you that was deeper than any unsettled emotion.

The evening after your session wore on, and in time, you had fallen into a deep sleep.

Days passed slowly, and the pages of the book turned with your continuing progress. It took patience to get through. Both the days and the book. Your job flooded you with responsibilities and when you came home and opened the heavy book, you were faced with words that did take some effort to decipher, but soon you found comfort in the word-laden pages. You tried listening to his advice about how the path to paradise begins in hell. What could paradise have in store for you? How long would this path take? Why couldn’t you have just started halfway? What if this wasn’t hell, and your journey hadn’t begun, and things would only get worse? Anxious questions seemed to constantly flood your mind, attacking any means of traveling on said “path.” Throughout the next few days, when the questions occasionally became too much, you would think back to Dr. Lecter’s rich voice, the distinguished air of his room, his analytic chestnut eyes. And the thought that soon you’d be there again. All hope wasn’t lost for you. You had Dante, Dr. Lecter, and this so-called path to paradise. You’d been through a lot to even make it here. You would try this. You had to.

Before you knew it, you were once again in the refined waiting room. Music once again played softly and the receptionist seemed to be in the exact same nervous state she was in yesterday. This time as you sat you allowed yourself to study your surroundings a bit more. Your eyes focused more clearly on the paintings that adorned the walls, you allowed yourself to breathe in, the air smelling of books and something you couldn’t quite name. You allowed yourself to gain a less tense position than last time, though your hands fidgeted slightly in your lap and you couldn’t help but notice the pattern of your breathing and your heart. You were nervous. You usually were before sessions, it wasn’t something you were unaccustomed to. You knew though that as time went on, you would relax into things more, just as you had already.

“He’s ready to see you now,” the receptionist spoke suddenly. A pleasant smile was plastered on her face. You nodded at her and stood, crossing the waiting room to stand in front of the wooden door, just as you had the week before. You looked back at the receptionist. Her face was now turned back to her work but her eyes still held the smile from the moment before. The nervous energy that had encompassed her not too long ago suddenly seemed a lot less nervous. Maybe it was simply energy. Maybe she was simply passionate about her work. She didn’t seem unhappy. This made a smile begin to grow on your face too. You made a mental note to talk to her more next time.

Sounds from the other side of the door interrupted your thoughts. It sounded like footsteps against the wooden floor, heading towards you. And as if on cue, the door in front of you opened to leave you smiling at the face of your psychiatrist.

He looked about the same as the last time you’d seen him. The same well-styled earthy hair, paired with the earthy eyes, the charming smile. The one different thing about him was his suit. The one he wore today was a brown plaid one.

“Good evening,” he spoke and a part of you relaxed at hearing his soothing voice, “How do you do? Please, come in,”

You smiled and stepped past him, walking into the large tranquil office. It felt reassuring, in a strange way, to be back here. The quote about the path flashed through your mind.

“Good evening to you as well, Doctor,” you replied to the man and turned to give him a smile as he followed you through the doorway, “I’ve been quite well. And you?”

“I happen to have been the exact same,” he replied. Just as last time, he gestured to the two chairs in the middle of the room and you both made your way over to have a seat. Once again, your thoughts danced around how intimate the setting was. You appreciated it. His eyes studied you, and it now felt like a common thing to get the feeling he wanted you to speak. This time, you took the opportunity.

“I’ve begun reading The Divine Comedy, as you quoted it in our last session,” you said. For a moment, you wondered if you shouldn’t have said it. You weren’t sure why. It just felt personal, deep. You knew it was meant to though. You also couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment you were feeling or if it was the strange feeling of being open. Your eyes suddenly focused again on Dr. Lecter and for a brief instant you thought you might’ve seen interest flash across his features before he spoke.

“What a keen memory you have,” he replied. The way your last name formally slipped from his lips at the end of his praise made your lips quirk up in a slight smile, “You must tell me your thoughts on it,”

“It’s fascinating. I love finding the meaning in such complex words. It all gives me so much to think about. While I have not read too much of it yet, I do intend to continue,” you remarked.

“I must admit, I quite agree with you. The meanings and knowledge woven into such works are intellectual delicacies. It does one much good to take a bite,” he responded.

As the session carried on, you did your best to comprehend his thought-provoking words. It only made you want to read the book more. Your mind wandered back to it, even as the conversation had steadily drifted away from that topic a while ago. In between the continuing banter, the appealing idea of curling up with the book when you got home became a thought that was growing in prominence. You might light some candles, settle into bed, maybe get something to eat or drink. You pictured the how the world would look from your window. The way buildings would be soaked in shadows of the navy night, the way wind would trickle through leaves in quiet susurrus. The night would be pretty to drive home in. Stillness protruding from the trees around the roads that led to your home. The idea of such a pleasant evening was incipient in your head.

Your attention was about to return to Dr. Lecter, when a sudden memory flashed through your thoughts. Headlights on a dark road, the shining eyes of the deer, the sudden franticness, a sickening jolt of the moving vehicle, a gut-wrenching scream. The recollection instantly made your stomach drop in the most dreadful way. You felt as if you were back in that moment. Your heart began to race, an execrable gut-churning feeling of pure terror took place in your abdomen and stomach. Unbeknownst to you, your hands had begun to fidget in your lap. Your eyes fixed on one spot on the floor. The emotion of panic felt like it had taken over your entire being. The moment just kept replaying in your mind. You saw it, even worse, you felt it, over and over in your mind. You silently screamed for a way out, feeling desperate. Your breaths became short as you felt increasing horror in your chest, laboring your breathing with pressure. You just wanted to make it stop. You were scared. You wanted a way out. Stop. Stop. Stop. Please get me away from this.

Abruptly, something began to intrude on your distraught and terrified state. A voice began to make its way through your racing thoughts. It was a deep and rich voice, dusted with an accent. Taking a moment to hurriedly try to identify the voice, it was Dr. Lecter’s. He was saying your last name in that formal way he had a habit of saying it in. Your eyes darted to him, seeing that he was now crouched next to your chair. That calm demeanor was still on. He felt so far away, the memory playing over again in your mind. You felt your mind begin to delve back into the state it was in before. You faintly heard your name off his lips again.

“Look at me,” he firmly instructed. You felt like you couldn’t, as if you were frozen in your memories. Your name left his lips once more. “I must ask you to try and listen.”

You wrenched your eyes away from the spot on the floor, turning to him. Though your eyes were on him, you felt as if your mind was a million miles away. For an instant, with the help of his voice, you felt more stable. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him.

“You are safe, you are in my office. No harm will come to you here. No doubt you feel overwhelmed right now. Try to focus on your breathing, in and out,” with his words, you began to break through the wall of panic that had settled in your mind, “I assure you, your mind cannot immure you.”

The world around you slowly became present to you again as he spoke. He continued, and you listened, fighting away the emotion. Occasionally your eyes would squeeze shut and your abdomen would tense in fear, but Dr. Lecter’s voice would always pull you back to where you were. You focused on him, the comforting words that continued to leave his mouth, the way he pointed out things in his office to distract you. He spoke softly about some of the paintings, your eyes caught occasionally on the strokes of the paintbrush that had created images with swirling emotion. Like the state of your mind.

Eventually, your focus was more on him than it was the memory that had resurfaced. Parts of your face were still tinged with worry, and you didn’t feel all that comfortable with your posture, but it was better than you had felt minutes before. You didn’t notice the doctor had been silent until he spoke, your name leaving his lips in that formal way before he finished his question.

“I take it that what just occurred was quite an intense panic attack. Might I ask if you know what triggered it?”

“A memory,” you spoke, you watched as he gently rose and stepped back to his chair where he took a seat, “It’s not important now.”

You wished so badly to be able to tell the man about the memory, but felt if you got into it, you might get stuck in that well of emotion and never come out.

“What has the ability to bother us to that extent is of great importance.” Dr. Lecter replied smoothly. You noticed the way his eyes silently searched you, as if deciphering you like an ancient language. The man was perceptive. You wondered what exactly he was searching. Your body language, your mind, signs of another panic attack. At this thought, you took special notice of his own body language. His legs were crossed as they usually were and his chin was tilted upwards ever so slightly. His hands were folded neatly in his lap. Even after witnessing such a paroxysm of emotion as yours, he managed to stay calm and unalarmed. You couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“Could I talk to you about it at our next session, Dr. Lecter? Extreme emotions like that seem like too much to handle at the moment,” you felt bad saying that, and worried it came across as rude. But at least it gave you something to plan for leading up to the next session.

“If that is what you feel will benefit you the most,” he said with the slightest nod of his head, “Though, never be afraid to feel. It is much more than a mortal burden. Emotions allow us to have such a scope of remarkable experiences. Those of us filled with vehemence are bestowed with one of the best human gifts and burdens. Do not be afraid of it.”

The formal concluding niceties occurred as you were left ruminating on his words. He had a point. Of course he did, he knew this stuff.

Eventually, you had both risen from your respective seats in the middle of the room and were beginning your walk to the door you would be exiting from. He opened the door for you, but you paused. Looking back a him and giving him a soft look you spoke.

“Thank you.” you said, you saw a spark of both pride and slight confusion glow in his eye, accompanied by a slight turn of his head.

“I’m your psychiatrist,” he said, your last name leaving his lips in that formal way you’d grown used to, “It’s my pleasure.”

You stepped out of his office and before you knew it, you were back in the chilly air of the night. You looked at the building you had just exited, seeing warm light glow from the rooms inside, a contrast from the dark sky overhead. Part of you wished to be back in his office. Bach playing softly in the background, surrounded by art and literature from times far passed, the doctor’s sophisticated and accented voice ringing clearly through the room.

You could get used to this.

And now, you had Dante waiting for you to read when you got home.

Your journey on the path had begun.

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #pin’s fics #cervi e consumo fic #hannibal #nbc hannibal x reader

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themirrordemon · 2 months

Text

Writer James Wong and director David Nutter talking about X-files s01 e13 "Beyond the sea"

Cinefantastique #26 - 1995

“Dana, open yourself up to extreme possibilities only when they’re the truth.”

—Mulder

Beyond the Sea

Gillian Anderson and Scully come into their own in this first-rate script by Glen Morgan and James Wong. Scully’s personal and professional lives collide when, shortly after her father's death, she and Mulder interrogate a psychic death row convict named Boggs (Brad Dourif) who may hold the key to finding a serial killer and his latest victims. In a fascinating twist, Mulder for once is the skeptic, and Scully the unwilling believer, when Boggs claims he can locate the killer—his former partner—as well as give Scully some final words from her father. Director David Nutter drew scorching performances from Dourif. and a deeply moving one from Anderson, whose Scully tries mightily to repress both her grief and her belief, and his orchestration of the prison confrontations is masterful. The sholwhere the door closes behind Anderson, leaving Dourif centered perfectly in a narrow windowframe is quite unforgettable. The teaser is a study in how to communicate family tensions and emotions not spelled out in dialogue. Don Davis and Sheila Larkcn as William and Margaret Scully make an indelible impression.

“Beyond the Sea” originated from a number of sources, one of which, said James Wong, was “a book Glen had read which said that 75 percent of widows within three months have a vision of their husband, and 35 percent of mothers see their sons.” And comments from fans that Scully needed humanizing played their part. “Gillian needed a show to show off her talents,” Wong said. Added Morgan, "It was time to grow Scully’s character, because she was doing the same kind of thing too often.”

The character of Boggs grew out of Morgan’s desire to “do a psychic thing. And you start thinking, well, this guy’s got to have something at stake. Capital punishment was one thing I always wanted to write about.” The network executives were not high on the idea of a Scully/Boggs faceoff, and Chris Carter had to back the idea twice before the they gave the go-ahead. “They said it was too much like SILENCE OF THE LAMBS,” said Morgan, “so in order to not do Hannibal Lecter, this kind of cool intellectual, we had this manic high-strung cracker. I was directly trying not to write Hannibal Lecter.”

Noted director David Nutter, "Brad Dourif came in, and my job there was to create a setting where he could be what he really wanted to be. I would just tweak this and that, but basically I let him have the stage. In a sense, it was a static episode and it was important to let his performance be the moving element. I was also very happy with the work that Gillian and I did together. I thought she really proved herself to be quite a talented actress.”

Religious symbolism is a guiding clement in “Beyond the Sea.” The teaser opens on a Christmas tree angel and the statue of an angel also provides an important clue to locating the serial killer. Mulder's lack of faith in Boggs results in his being shot near a wooden “white cross” which Boggs had warned him about, a contrast to Scully’s evading death when she avoids a painting of a blue devil about which she had received a similar warning. “Scully has that Catholic background,” said Morgan. "I’m not a very organized religious person, but we got a lot of letters from people saying, ‘I need to see my religion portrayed positively.’ So you try to have somebody who was raised with that faith.”

The tattoos on Boggs’ hands which read “kiss” and “kill” are reminiscent of Robert Mitchum’s “love” and “hate” tattoos in NIGHT OF THE HUNTER, but Morgan said that although Mitchum was in the back of his mind, the words themselves came from a song by the band X. “There’s a lyric which says, ‘It’s kiss or kill.’ I was trying to think of something other than love or hate and I thought that was kind of neat.”

#brad dourif #interview #magazine scan #x-files #beyond the sea #luther lee boggs #james wong #david nutter

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limehaspassed · 1 year

Note

Hi!! can i request Hannibal lecter (sotl and nbc if that’s okay?) And some other slashers if you like with a s/o that has a feeding tube?

I recently got one put in and I feel like a fish out of water lol

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Slashers with S/O Who

Has a Feeding Tube

In which the I go over the slashers and their relationship with you, someone who has a feeding tube. Slashers included are NBC and SoTL Hannibal, Brahms Heelshire, Thomas Hewitt, and Harry Warden.

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Preface

To start off with, a feeding tube is a tube entered through the nasal or abdominal region of the body to supply nutrients for people who cannot get enough through eating alone. Feeding tubes may be uncomfortable or even painful at first, but that may be fixed through adjustments. Feeding tubes are a result of many disorders occurring within the gastrointestinal region. They may also be a result of neck or throat cancer, throat surgery, and anything that may restrict or eliminate the process of swallowing food via mouth.

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Hannibal (NBC)

Will go over every detail with you: what you eat, what you do, how you go about your day, when you are able to get the feeding tube removed and so forth.

Will be respectable about it, he won’t tease you or play jokes on you. He understands that you are going through a rough time and refuses to make it any worse for you.

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Harry Warden

Just like Hannibal (NBC), he will be very thorough with how he helps you, making sure everything is okay and stable.

Will ask a lot of questions.

Absolutely refuses to let anyone pick on you for it, his hatred towards others only growing more if people do mention anything negative about your situation.

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Thomas Hewitt

Will initially be confused about what a feeding tube it, worry quickly settling in. However, once you explain it to him and tell him you’re alright, he’ll calm down.

Will treat you like a fragile piece of glass even though you have told him you feel fine, you just need a little extra help.

Will also ask a lot of questions in his own way through gentle touches and nudges.

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Hannibal (SoTL)

Unlike NBC Hannibal, he would tease and play jokes on you but he means no harm.

He makes sure that you’re okay and watches out for any change that may indicate anything. He’s always keeping a watchful eye, even when you sleep.

If a joke goes too far, he’ll make sure you understand that he is sorry.

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Brahms Heelshire

Will also be confused as to what a feeding tube is seeing as he’s been locked up in the walls his entire life.

Refuses to ask questions because he is slightly deterred. He doesn’t say this though and will be respectable about it, quite a surprise.

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#gender nuetral reader #slashers #brahms heelshire #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #the boy 2016 #thomas hewitt x you #brahms x you #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal #hannibal x reader #harry warden x reader #harry warden #slashers x reader #slasher

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hayleythecannibal · 13 days

Text

Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Nineteen Futamono

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Talks of Attempted Murder/Assassination, Cannibalism, SMUT!!!, PnV, Oral(Fem recieve), Cheating

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

“You're moving smoothly and slowly, Jack, carrying your concentration like a brimming cup.” Will says as Jack approaches his cell. "Hannibal Lecter, And Y/N were almost murdered by an employee of this hospital. An attendant we believe killed the bailiff and judge in your trial." Jack says with a cold tone. "He killed the bailiff. He didn't kill the judge. That was the Chesapeake Ripper." Will says standing when jack comes into view. "You know this?"

"He told me."

"And then you told him to kill Hannibal Lecter and Y/N. "

“Wait did you just say Y/N? Nothing I said made that happen, Jack. It just happened. Is Y/N okay? Please tell me she's okay Jack.” Will says panicked about his Girlfriend. Does she think he had her killed? Are her Injuries life changing?

“Y/N is okay. Few deep cuts and lacerations. Some blunt force trauma. But overall she’s out of the hospital and stable. But you dont seem as broken up about Hannibal as you do for Y/N.” Jack says as he watches the curly haired man panic.

“There is a common emotion we all recognize and have not yet named. The happy anticipation of being able to feel contempt. I love Y/N. I would never. Wish her harm.” Will says seriously. “You have contempt for Hannibal.” Jack says, its no a question its a statement. “I have contempt for the Ripper. I have contempt for what he does.” Will says as he starts to pace.

“What does he do, Will?” Jack asks, curious to what the man will say. “What does he do? What is the first and principal thing he does? What need does he serve by killing?” Will says with a chuckle, not a funny chuckle, but one of irony.

“He harvests organs.” Jack says confused.

“No. That's only the action of what he does. Why does he need to do? The Ripper kills in sounders of three or four, in quick order. Do you know why? I know why. Y/N certainly knows as well.” Will is confident in his thinking because it's the only option.

“Tell me.” “Because if he waits too long, then the meat spoils.” Will says as he steps closer to the bars. “He's eating them? Hannibal Lecter is Garret Jacob Hobbs? A cannibal?” Jack says, its almost humorous. Comparing Hannibal to Garret Jacob Hobbs. Its comical. Its like comparing a Lion to a leopard. One hunts for fun while the other Hunts to eat. And the eating is just the dessert for Hannibal. The main course was the hunt.

“Not like Garret Jacob Hobbs. Hobbs ate his victims to honor them. The Ripper eats his victims because they're no better to him than pigs.” Will says, oh how he wished to be at home with His dogs and Y/N. Hannibal would most likely try to turn her against him. But Will knows that would never happen. Y/N is a lot smarter than she looks, she always has a plan. Always thinking. “With the exception of Beverly Katz, there's no connection between Hannibal and any Ripper victims.” Jack says, “No immediate connection. He likely identifies his meals years in advance, earmarks them, then waits with the patience of a python.” Jack looks at Will in frustration.

“Hannibal Lecter is not the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“Who else do you know with unusual culinary tastes? If the Ripper's killing, you can bet Hannibal Lecter's planning a dinner party. You and I probably sipped wine while swallowing the people we were trying to give justice, Jack. Who does he have to kill before you'll open your eyes?” Will says, but we all know who.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT-

Y/N watches Hannibal cut the heart into morsels for the skewers. We can see the bandages on his arms as he cuts. He scrapes pieces of meat into a bowl of marinade, one by one.

“Funny how we revere and romanticize a simple pump. Merely a muscle. Yet such a potent symbol of life and the things that make us human, good and bad. Love and ache.” Hannibal says as I take the pieces of heart meat from the marinade and skewers them with pieces of vegetables between each morsel. The bandages around our arms bind us together in our experience. “All of them skewered.” I say, the irony honestly.

“It's a thematic dish. My heart certainly feels skewered.” Hannibal says as he turns to me.

“You have the scars to prove it.” I say as I touch the marks on Hannibal's neck where he was hanged. As he grips my Forearm softly, careful not to hurt me. He admires the bandages that cover my sutured arms. “So do you, I feel as though that noose were still around my neck. It's strange to have nightmares. Never used to.” He says as he grazes my hand with his thumb. The nightmares. Mine are different from his. I killed a man. Yes, he wouldve killed me and Hannibal but its different. Its been so long since i shot someone. Almost 12 years since I Killed, Took my first life.

“Don't make the mistake I've made.” I say softly, “Which is?”

“Being your own psychiatrist. I'm always psychoanaylzing myself. Its always one step forward and three steps back.” I say as i stare at our matching wrappings. “It's the safest course. I'm metabolizing the experience by composing a new piece of music.” He says as he sighs.

“Harpsichord or theremin?” I ask politely, “Harpsichord. Stravinsky said, "A true composer thinks about his unfinished work the whole time; he's not always conscious of this, but he's aware of it when he suddenly knows what to do." Hannibal says fondly, “Do you know what to do?”

“I need to get my appetite back.” He smiles at her and raises his glass. Sips red wine.

PARKING LOT - DAY-

the man-tree on the horizon, asphalt stretching toward. a PD CRUISER, then another, an AMBULANCE and then an FBI CRIME SCENE VAN. An ever-increasing cordon of flashing lights and POLICE OFFICERS. Finally, a BLACK SUV rolls in.

Jack takes in the scene. Looks at the tortured figure built into the tree, his frozen scream. JIMMY PRICE and BRIAN ZELLER are starting to assess the tableau. They talk. Jack just stares. “He's been literally grafted in place -- these are living roots.” Jimmy says in awe of the Rippers artistry. “He's got varicose vines. Threaded through from his heels, under his legs, his back, through his torso and out his fingertips. Followed some pretty tricky endoscopic surgical paths.” Zeller points out.

“Chesapeake Ripper usually cherry- picks his organs. He took every last one. Except for the lungs.” Jimmy says as he hears a car pull up, A black SUV. “Stocking his shelves.” Zeller says turning his head to look at the car.

“There'll be something about the lungs. Why else leave them?” Jack says as he steps forward and looks at the corpse. The artfully-arranged flowers. It offends him. “The time he devotes to what he does. He takes real pride. Belladonna for the heart, a chain of white oleander for the intestines, ragwort for the liver.”

“The flowers are all poisonous.” I say stepping on scene. The looks i get are ones of surprise. “This is judgment. Ripper believes his victim was toxic. A poisonous man. Who is he to moralize?” I continue, It feels weird to be back so soon but I have lives to save. I watch as Jack stares at the body like it speaks just to him.

“He's the eye of a storm. Working in a place of calm while the winds blow us all over. He's so damn certain, it makes me sick.” Jack says as he turns to me, I give him a soft smile. I know hes been through a lot lately.

BAU - MORGUE - DAY-

Standing on a foot ladder, Brian Zeller runs a small CHAINSAW through the branches rising out of the Tree Man's head. Y/N L/N, Jack Crawford, and Jimmy Price All wearing PROTECTIVE EYEWEAR, speaking over the chainsaw BUZZ. “His name is Sheldon Isley. Baltimore city councilman.” Jimmy says as Zeller ceases chainsawing to add: “Ripper's a politician now.”

“At least a conservationist. Five, six years ago, Isley brokered a woodlands development deal despite the disapproval of the EPA.” Jimmy says, he himself is a conservationist. “Councilman Isley paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” Jack shrugs. “What he paved was an important nesting habitat for endangered songbirds. The son of a bitch.” Jimmy says as we watch Zeller reach into the branches and pulls out a nest.

“Autopsy gave us what you'd expect from the Chesapeake Ripper. Pre-mortem surgical dissection, latex glove impressions, body posed before rigor set in.” Zeller says, and I nod, the veins in the legs clearly well- at least to me. Point out the cause of death. Drowning. “What have those lungs coughed up?”

“Water. Councilman drowned. Lungs are filled with aspirated water.” Zeller points out the Tree Man's legs. I smirk internally, still got it. Today I’m alone on this case, well besides jack. “He was standing in water up to his thighs for forty-eight to seventy-two hours prior to his death.”

“To feed the tree?”

“It's possible.” Zeller says as Price guides Jack to a microscope with a video feed. “Here's the exciting part. Tree Man actually bears fruit.” A PLASMA SCREEN: Curious, geometric single-cell creatures flick back and forth. “Diatoms. Unicellular colonies. Good as fingerprints. No two water sources have the same diatom population.”

“The water in his lungs gives us a location of death. Show me.” A map of Virginia. “Fifty-mile radius -- here.” He traces a circle in the Virginia woods. Jack stares at it, contemplating his next move.

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

“You understand the reality of Beverly Katz's death. You understand your role in that.” Hannibal asks the emotionless Will. “What was my role?” Will tilts his head in question. “Beverly died at your behest. You're as angry with yourself as you are with whoever murdered her.” Hannibal claims.

“Actually, I'm not. I'm singularly angry at whoever murdered her.” Will says confidently. “You tried to kill me, Will. It's hard not to take that personally. However, if I were Beverly's murderer, I'd applaud your effort.” Hannibal says, He knows how to hurt Will. He wont hurt someone per say but it will Anger Will. “I'm no more guilty of what you've accused me of than you are of what I have accused you of.” Will says Defiantly.

“Jack Crawford believes you were responsible.” Hannibal says almost in a reasoning sense. “Where does responsibility begin and end, Dr. Lecter? With a final act or the events that led to it?” Will asks with a raised brow. “I don't expect you to feel self-loathing or regret or shame. You knew what you were doing and you made your own decisions. Decisions that were under your control. And they got someone you love Hurt. “ Hannibal says in a darker tone.

“You think I'm in control? I would never Hurt Y/N. Not Intentionally.”

“I think you're more in control now than you've ever been. You found a way to hurt me, Will. I wonder how many more people are going to be hurt by what you do.”

“I'll give Y/N your best.” It's a veiled threat and they both know it. “Good-bye, Will” He turns his Back to Will, not amused...

BAU - MORGUE - DAY-

TECHNICIANS wheel a sheet-covered body into the morgue where Tree Man now lies on a gurney.

Another gurney is wheeled into the swiftly-filling space. Zeller and Price waiting to receive it.

Jack Crawford watching this escalation of bodies through the glass.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT-

The STRING QUARTET plays Mozart's "Dissonance" as a party is in full swing with well-heeled GUESTS. Four SERVERS emerge from the dining room, one then the other coming INTO FOCUS as they pass through FRAME, like dancers in a chorus line, and head into the room. The servers spread through the crowd with platters thatguests turn to take food from, creating a swirl of movement through the room.

amidst the crowd and through them. As servers move on and two guests turn to chat, they

reveal Jack Crawford, newly arrived. Jack surveys the room.Hands take morsels of food from the servers' trays and pop them into their mouths. Teeth bite and gnash. Jack watches as they chew and swallow -- going SLO-MO as they chew and then back to NORMAL SPEED for the swallow.

He can see Hannibal talking to two guests. Y/N is nearby. She’s talking to Alana. Alana takes an hors d'oeuvre from a passing tray, a morsel of meat on a pick, and eats it.

Dr. Chilton approaches and saddles up alongside Jack, eyeing the hors d'oeuvres as they move through the room. “Prosciutto roses. Heart tartare. Beef roulade. Needless to say, I won't be eating the food.” Chilton says uneased with the dishes. “Dr. Chilton.”

“Hannibal the Cannibal. That's what they'll call him, you know.” Chilton says amused.

“Not according to Abel Gideon.” Jack says weery. “Gideon's caused me enough trouble today. The fact that he lied to you makes me even more certain he was telling Will Graham the truth.” Chilton eyes the roast pig's head on the buffet table. “Why did you come here tonight if you're so convinced?” Jack says

“Darwinism. I don't want him to think I suspect anything. Keeping my mouth shut on the whole affair.” Chilton says as Jack watches Hannibal. The server returns with a Tupperware

with a lid. Jack takes it in his hands. “Help yourself.” Jack takes a latex glove from his pocket and uses it to place food into the Tupperware. Hannibal glances across the room to see Dr. Chilton watching the exchange curiously. As Jack seals the container, Hannibal smiles sadly.

“Eat it soon or it'll spoil.”

BAU - CORRIDOR - NIGHT-

Jack holds the food container as he greets Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price who are emerging from evidence processing. “Test this.” A DISTINCTIVE NOTE of a harpsichord punctuates the exchange.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT-

The room has been tidied, but evidence of the party remains. Y/N sits at Hannibal's harpsichord, doubling the KEYS she's playing until it becomes clear she's performing a slow, dreamy version of "The Swan." Hannibal slides next to her. She smiles and he watches her for a moment, then starts playing his composition at the opposite end of the keyboard.

“The ending to my composition has been alluding me. You may have solved my problem with "The Swan."” They smile as they play, hands crossing over the keys, pushing their shoulders together.

“If only all problems could be solved with a simple waltz. Jack's treating you like a suspect.

He's pointing fingers in the dark.” I say, I wish i was scared of what i knew Hannibal was capable of. I know what he is and who he is. “I've walked away from Will, but I'm still trailing his accusations.” Hannibal says.

“I cant walk away. No matter how much I wish I wanted to. He’s my partner.” I say softly as my fingers grace the keys. “What does walking away leave us?”

“Each other.” Hannibal looks at Y/N, admiring her, appreciating her. Y/N turns to face Hannibal. He feels her gaze and turns to her, their hands stilled on the keys. His hand reaches up and grazes her cheek softly, she leans into his touch. He kisses her softly, leaving her room to pull away. And pull away she did.

“This- This is wrong.” I say softly, though my body says otherwise. My hands rest on his chest. “What is so wrong about ones affection for another.” Hannibal says as he cups my face in his hands. “I’m with Will…” I say as I close my eyes. “Will needs to learn how to share.” He smirks. And Kisses me. One of his hands trail down to hold my waist. As my hands slide up to his hair.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT- We stumble into the Bedroom, Hands clawing at each others clothing. Desperate to be relieved of them. He kicks the door behind us closed. I smile into our lustful bliss, He leads us to the bed without his lips ever leaving my skin. His touch scourches my soul, leaving handprints that shall never leave my being.

He pushes me down onto the bed. He’s in control. He possesses my body, mind, and soul in this very moment. I'm afraid he'll never release me. I sit up, my hands going to the buttons on his dress shirt. His lips leave a trail of bruising marks on my neck. His hands unzip my backless dress. I kick off my heels that should've been discarded earlier. The straps of my dress fall down my shoulders.

Hannibal’s dress shirt, suit jacket, and vest have been discarded to the floor by now, leaving him in his belt, pants, and what's underneath. He pulls the straps of my dress to reveal the skin beneath. I quickly go to cover myself, but he grabs my wrists gently but tight enough to stop me.

Hannibal gazes down upon my body, my dress now joining my heels on the floor. I advert his burning Gaze. “Perfect, you are a masterpiece dear. A Living piece of Art” He says as he takes both of my wrists into one of his hands, the other lifts my chin to meet his Gaze. I flush red, feeling the heat in my cheeks and the pooling in my panties. Glad i'm wearing lace. He unpins my hair from its style, my curls fall framing my face. I bite my lip, he pulls it free with his thumb and kisses me hungrily. I moan into the kiss, Hannibal takes the opportunity to bite my lip drawing Blood from it. I gasp and look up at the much older man, He smirks and strokes my cheek. My hands go to his belt, my eyes never leave his. One of Hannibal’s hands trails down my body, coaxing shivers from my body. His fingers dip into my panties, my Breathing hitches. “So wet. Does Will ever make you this wet?” He asks darkly, I nod softly. There had been a few occasions where Will had Aroused me to this extent.

He looks at me like I'm Prey. Like he could eat me alive. And let's be honest, He probably could. He pushes me down, and Tears my panties off me swiftly. I gasp as he spreads my legs and kneels before me. The sight of it makes me somehow wetter.

Its like the Devil kneeling before an Angel. I lean onto my elbows to watch as he kisses up my legs, my head falls back as he softly blows on my heat. I softly Whimper. He litters my inner thighs with kisses and hickeys. Then finally he brings his mouth to where i need it most.

Hannibal's tongue licks a stripe up my pussy. He groans at the taste; “You taste Divine.” He smirks and then attaches his mouth to my cunt, drinking me in. My hand tangles in his hair as the other grips the comforter tightly. “Fuck…” I moan out the profanity, I feel him smirk against my heat. He grips my thigh with one hand as the other trails its fingers along my entrance. He pushes two long fingers into me, causing me to buck and moan out other unintelligible profanities and words of praise.

He hikes my leg over his shoulder, my hand tangled in his hair softly tugs him closer. Im a moaning mess, He sets the pace with his fingers and curls them, expertly hittling my g-spot as he attaches his lips to my clit.

“Oh Fuck! Hannibal.” I moan loudly, Alerting him that he found it. If he had neighbors they'd surely hear me. I quickly feel the familiar burn of an oncoming orgasm, my pussy clenches around his fingers and he pulls way causing me to let out a pathetic whimper.

“Not yet Butterfly.” He says softly as he removes my leg from his shoulder. He leans over me and Kisses me softly, I moan softly at the taste of myself on his lips and tongue. I Kiss along his jaw and down his neck. Politely not leaving any marks. My hands unbutton his pants and i bite my lip. I knew it wasn't right. I Love Will. But there's just something about Hannibal that coaxes the dark and dangerous part of me out.

I flip us over and straddle his thighs as he watches me with a dark smile. I kiss up his stomach, abs and chest, until I reached his lips. He grips my waist and kept me pressed to him in our passionate kiss. Until i pulled away. I tugged at his pants and he allowed me to take them off. I hear him chuckle darkly.

“What?” i ask innocently, I look up at him softly. He cups my cheek and his thumb strokes my cheek bone. “Such a good Girl.” He praises, I whimper at said praise. I focus on my task at hand. I look back up at him silently asking permission. My hands needy, grasping at his boxers. He shakes his head with a smile as he strokes my cheek. My eyebrows furrow confused. “Not tonight Butterfly.” He flips us back over. Hannibal chuckles. He strokes my hair and kisses me. I relax and sigh into the kiss. His hands explore my body, mapping out the soft skin. My arms wrap around his neck, and pull him closer. He kisses along my neck, his tongue tasting the salt on my skin. He pulls back and admires the work he has done on my neck. I reach up and brush the hair from his face. Hannibal looks back up at me and kisses me passionately. I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding up on his bulge, desperate for friction.

Hannibal moans at the action and pulls back to look at me. My face flushed. I bite my lip as he strokes my hair and tucks it behind my ear. I grind up again and he kisses me roughly.

His hands pin mine above my head, he grips them both with one hand. He lines himself up with my entrance. I moan and whimper, wanting nothing more than for him to be inside me. His other hand holds my hip, his thumb strokes the skin there. I feel his tip tease my entrance, I let out a pathetic whine. He looks into my eyes and then slides into me. We both moan, and he lets out a low growl. He bottoms out inside of me and I gasp. My back arches and my eyes roll back.

My hands grip the pillow, Hannibal releases his grip on them. He leans down and kisses me softly as he pulls back and slowly thrusts back in. I moan into the kiss and my nails drag across his scalp, making him growl into the kiss. His hands hold onto my hips tightly, I know they'll leave a mark. He thrusts into me at a slow pace, letting me feel every inch of him. He groans and moans, I love the sounds he makes.

His thrusts start getting rougher, more animalistic. My legs wrap around his waist and my heels dig into his lower back, pushing him further into me. The sound of our skin slapping is music to my ears, and i know that I can't hold back anymore.

I gasp and moan. I claw at his back, and he buries his face in the crook of my neck. His breath is hot against my skin, his teeth scrape my skin and I whimper. Hannibal thrusts harder and faster, hitting deeper with every thrust. I cry out as the all too familiar burn starts to form, my toes curl. Hannibal groans, his cock twitches inside me. I can tell he's getting close, too. His pace gets more erratic and less rhythmic.

He bites my shoulder, marking me. Claiming me as his. I scream out, the pain and pleasure overwhelming my senses. I feel him cum inside me, hot and sticky. The sensation of it sends me over the edge, my orgasm hits and i cum on his cock. We ride out our orgasms together, he slows his pace and kisses along my neck. He releases the skin of my shoulder from his teeth. He licks the blood and cleans the wound.

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT-

Her skin is in stark contrast to the crimson bedding. Hannibal sleeps soundly next to Y/N. After a moment, he opens his eyes. He watches Y/N. He finally stands. He takes Y/N's wineglass from the bedside table. With a white cloth, he wipes the rim, then sets the glass back down. He snaps his fingers close to her ears; she doesn't stir. He looks again at Y/N’s sleeping, then leaves.

HOSPITAL - DR. GIDEON'S ROOM - NIGHT-

l he lies propped up in a hospital bed, curtains drawn all around on an oval frame. His face is bruised. IV drips and monitoring are hooked up to his body. A THICK BANDAGE around his TORSO. We HEAR the door to the room open and then slowly close. Gideon's eyes open as FOOTSTEPS squeak on the floor. He sees a tall SHADOW behind the CURTAINS as it approaches.He watches as the shadow moves toward the foot of the bed. SLOW and TENSE. The curtains are drawn back and a tall figure in surgical scrubs, gloves and a MASK stands before him. He pulls down his mask to reveal Hannibal Lecter. “Hello, Dr. Gideon.”

“I knew you'd come.” Hannibal smiles at Gideon.

HOSPITAL - DR. GIDEON'S ROOM - DAWN-

Early morning light begins to creep through the windows.the curtains surrounding Gideon's bed, a GHOULISH SILHOUETTE hangs beyond them. A FLASH ignites behind the curtain, the silhouettes of TWO MEN examining the body. Jack Crawford as he approaches. He opens

the curtains to find Brian Zeller taking forensic photos of the body as Jimmy Price dusts for fingerprints.

THE BODY It seems to be floating on his belly, horizontally suspended two feet above the bed. His skin is pinched/stretched/pulled many different directions by WIRE FISHING LEADERS. Each line ends in a handcrafted HOOK -- the barb pushed through the skin of the dead man's back, arms and legs. But that dead man is not Abel Gideon. Instead, it is a BALTIMORE POLICE OFFICER, his gun belt still around the waist of his uniform pants. His torso is BARE and opened, the skin held back in flaps attached by fishhooks. The contents of his abdomen on the bed below, his badge sits on top. The finger clip from the MONITORS is attached to his hand. “Put a heart monitor on the guard so no one'd know Gideon was missing, least for as long as it took the guard to die, which wasn't long.” Zeller says.

“Long enough.” Jimmy indicates the dead police officer. “Fishhooks. Hand-tied flies. Like the ones Will Graham used to make. This one has human hair. A tooth.” Jimmy says as he indicates the parts in the flybaits. “There's no way Gideon could have done any of this with his injuries, much less get out of bed.” Zeller clarifies.

“Last time Gideon escaped custody, he was trying to find the Chesapeake Ripper. Found him all right. And tonight, the Ripper found Gideon.”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING-

Y/N asleep in Hannibal's bed. She stirs slightly and slowly opens her eyes. Hannibal sleeps quietly next to me. I stare peacefully at the ceiling, the morning after sleeping with a friend. What the Hell have I done? As I begin to think too much, I realize Hannibal has opened his eyes and is watching me.

“You're awake.” I say with a soft sigh and a smile. “So are you.”

“Was thinking about What we did. How I betrayed Will. My heart is torn. And I don't know why.” I say softly as my smile starts to drop. He Caresses my cheek and brushes away a stray hair in my face. “Of course your heart is torn. You love Will. But you also care for me as well.”

“But I feel that is unfair. Not to me but to the both of you.” I say softly “It isn't unfair, I know how to share. And I'm certain Will does too.” He kisses me, then stops and looks at me reassuringly: I kiss him back. BING-BONG. The doorbell rings. BING-BONG. “Last time someone rang my doorbell this early, it was a census taker.” He goes in to kiss me again before BING-BONG and begrudgingly Hannibal rises from the bed, shrugs on a robe. Hannibal goes to the curtains and draws them -- revealing the morning sun and allowing it to spill into the room.

“I'll see who it is.”

HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER-

three loud RAPS on a heavy oak door. The peephole goes dark, then -- Hannibal opens the door to find Jack Crawford standing outside.

“Hello, Jack.” Hannibal says as he leads Jack into the living room. “What can I do for you?”

“Gideon took a fall down a stairwell last night. Was hospitalized. Security guard standing watch was killed in what looks to be another Chesapeake Ripper murder. Now Gideon is nowhere to be found.” Jack explains and looks at him expectantly.

“He escaped?”

“We know he didn't walk out of the hospital. His back was broken. Someone took him. Someone he knew. Where were you last night?”

Hannibal Hesitates “I was Here.”

“All night?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone besides you can verify that?” Hannibal's quiet a moment. Then, from behind Jack: “I can.” I say wrapped in one of Hannibal's Button-ups, it goes down to my mid-thigh. Jack turns. He flashes surprise, but tamps it quickly.

“I was here with Hannibal all night, Jack. What are you accusing him of?” I ask as Hannibal reads Jack's frustration and perhaps relief. But there's a chance he woke up. Why the Hell am i not upset that i most likely Fucked the Chesapeake Ripper. “I'm not accusing him of anything. Only asking his whereabouts.”

“That's not all you were asking.” Jack looks evenly at them, nods, forced to accept that

Hannibal isn't the Chesapeake Ripper...

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-

Brian Zeller stands in front of a monitor. Jimmy Price and Jack Crawford look on. “Not cows. Wagyu beef. I'd say, a hundred dollars worth right there.”

“Sure it wasn't Kobe?” Zeller asks his fellow tech. Jimmy rolls his eyes: “All Kobe is Wagyu, but not all Wagyu is Kobe. Least we know Dr. Lecter wasn't serving up people.”

“Want people? The Chesapeake Ripper was tying flies with them. Just like Will Graham allegedly did.”

BAU - MORGUE - MOMENTS LATER-

Brian Zeller, Jimmy Price and Jack standing over a row of FISHING LURES taken from the security guard's back.

“Hair woven into the monofilament is Beverly's. Bone fragments from Miriam Lass. Veining from Sheldon Isley. Optic nerves and arteries from Judge Davies. A toenail from James Gray, our Muralist.” Zeller points to the DNA matches. A fly hook. Cleverly crafted, with bits of dark, organic material woven into the monofilament. A bone fragment. Veining coiled around hook and feather. An optic nerve entwined with bark.

“All Chesapeake Ripper victims.” Zeller says as Jimmy indicates four lures, in partial stages of

deconstruction, in individual grids. “These four lures here are almost identical to the ones we found at Will's house, made with materials from the exact same human remains. Abigail Hobbs, Marissa Schuur, Donald Sutcliffe, Georgia Madchen.” Jimmy points out.

“Will didn't kill any of them. There was no Copycat. It was always the Ripper. He's finally taking credit for those murders.” Jack realizes Will never killed anyone other than Garret Jacob Hobbs.

“May be taking too much credit. We found something else in the lures.” With tweezers, Jimmy plucks a curled, wispy wood shaving from one of the deconstructed fly grids.

“Madrona bark. It's a tree almost nonexistent on the East Coast. But this bark was peeled recently.”

Zeller gestures to the map of the area. “There's a small stand of madrona in Virginia.”

“Inside your diatom search area.” Zeller zooms in with his hand, à la an iPad. “Here.”

VIRGINIA BARN - NIGHT-

Moonlight on crisp white snow. The hulking black shadow of a heavily-built wooden barn stands stark against the white. we hear the low rumble of a car engine, to find a black sedan pulling up on the opposite side of the barn. JACK CRAWFORD and DR. Y/N L/N Exit the car. Takes in the barn; the two heavy gate doors barred on the outside. Jack pulls out his gun and a Maglite and walks toward it, his feet crunching on the snow. Their breath frosts the air. Jack walks up the wooden ramp to the heavy doors.

Blackness, except for slivers of faint moonlight shining through the wooden beams. We hear the sound of the heavy bar eing thrown. And then the door opens and a piercing FLASHLIGHT BEAM.. Jack and Y/N silhouetted behind it as he enters the barn slowly. He plays the flashlight around the space, cautious. Tense.

Cobwebs and old wood. Heavy old machinery and hand tools. Dust in the air. A SKITTERING SOUND and Jack swings the light and gun -- catching a RAT scurrying for cover... Jack and Y/N move on. Something shines in the beam and Jack moves toward it. A new steel padlock on an old door. Incongruous. Y/N looks around to be cautious of her surroundings.

A rending sound of wood and metal. A door opens to reveal a flight of wooden stairs, looking up

at Jack and Y/N.

Y/N throws down the iron bar she used to force the lock. Jack Shines his light right at the bottom as they start down the stairs -- Jack moves down the wooden stairs, gun and flashlight before him. Y/N shines her own light to reveal a dark, low cellar space, the concrete floor dominated by the tops of two circular WATER CISTERNS.

Jack and Y/N scan the room, Their flashlight beams our only light source, casting harsh shadows and movements. Jack checks the room for danger -- light reflecting off dirt-smeared windows in the far wall; blackness reflecting back from the other side.

MOVEMENT Y/N stills as she hears it. Heart thumping. A scraping sound. BELOW HER…She moves to the cisterns, the old stone topped with much newer METAL LIDS. she pulls the first one off -- flashes the light into it – dark water rises a third of the way up the steep slick sides.

SCRITCH – The sound again. Y/N moves to the other cistern. Can definitely hear something inside... (AN: BTW i wrote the SMUT scene while listening to "I am not afraid anymore" by Halsey, and whew it really goes with the scene)

#hannibal nbc #hannigram #hannibal x reader #hannigram x reader #fem!reader #will graham x reader #twistedminds #hannibal lecter #will graham

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