#I immediately thought of how I could write it as hannigram

[justhannigramfics]

Has anyone else seen the movie Ladyhawke? Anyone else thought it could potentially be a very good Hannigram AU?

[sykosomatic]

Thank you for accepting my request!! It was delicious😭❤️ i love the way you write Hannibal. Not to be greedy or anything, could i request hannigram x ftm reader? He just took his first shot of t, and his two lovers want to celebrate *wink wink*

you’re so welcome!! this is perfect, i love it so much <3 i love all the ftm x [insert character here] i’ve gotten recently! it’s so inside my comfort zone it’s crazy <3 companion fic to this.

i hope you enjoy!!

hannigram x ftm reader taking his first t shot!

(reader wears a binder/is pre-top-surgery)

cw: threesome/group sex, praise kink, creampie finish, double penetration, oral sex (afab&amab receiving), anal sex (afab&amab receiving), p in v sex, fingering (afab&amab receiving).

thanks to your lover, hannibal’s, connections in the therapy world, you’d finally gotten your hands on something you’d been waiting on for what felt like forever: a prescription for testosterone. at this point in your social transitioning, you figured you were ready to take the next step. it was a little nerve-wracking, as most new things are, but so exciting all the same.

your other lover, will, had kindly offered to go pick up the prescriptions with you; you’d shown some apprehension at the thought, and he’d immediately offered his assistance.

once you’d gotten back to hannibal’s place, you got all settled in; your testosterone vials and needles sitting up on the counter. they looked a little daunting; you’d never used a needle on yourself before, so this was going to be a really different experience for you. the doctor had explained to you how to do it, and it seemed pretty straightforward. but still. nervous.

you didn’t necessarily want to do it with hannibal and will watching you; just because you were nervous you may look silly, and you didn’t want them to get worried if you did it wrong. but then again, you didn’t want to do it without them, because what if you did do it wrong?

you decided to do your first shot on your own; you wanted to make sure you could do it by yourself, and wouldn’t they be so proud of you when you did?

you took a breath, grabbing the stuff you would need and heading to the bathroom. sitting on the toilet, you prepped everything the way the doctor told you to, and prepared yourself for the feeling of the needle going in.

it was surprisingly easy, but the sting and pinch were going to need some getting used to. letting your breath out, you cleaned up and put everything away, opening the bathroom door to see the two men standing outside the door.

you smiled at them, shaking your head. “worried about me, huh?” you asked them. hannibal stepped closer to you and inspected you, asking you how you felt. “i feel fine,” you assured him with a small chuckle. “it went really well… it was a lot easier than i thought it would be.”

will smiled at you, nodding as you spoke. “we knew it wouldn’t be a big deal. well..” he corrected, looking at hannibal. “i did, at least.”

“we should celebrate, no?” hannibal asked, kissing the top of your head. “such bravery and expertise should be rewarded!” he exclaimed, leading you and will to the kitchen.

hannibal popped open a bottle of wine and started pouring three glasses, handing them out. before long, he and will were discussing how proud they were of you, making your face flush; the wine wasn’t helping, either.

“so handsome and so perfect,” hannibal said, in response to will leaning in to put a hand on your thigh. “both of you,” he added playfully, making will sport a wry smile. hannibal stood and walked over to stand behind you, massaging your shoulders gently. he leaned in to kiss will’s lips deeply. it was clear the two of them were planning a different kind of celebration. you were excited.

hannibal’s hands dipped to start rubbing your chest, his fingers brushing over your nipples once he’d found them. you leaned your head back against him, watching him and will kissing passionately. warmth spread into your stomach and you could feel yourself getting ridiculously aroused.

will pulled away from the kiss he shared with hannibal to start kissing you, his hands starting to tug at your clothes; he was asking permission, and you eagerly allowed him to undress you. hannibal watched the two of you, starting to undo his own pants and taking his shirt off. before long the three of you were undressed and the two of them started leading you into the bedroom.

will pulled you into his lap on the bed, his legs draped over the end as hannibal came up behind you. being sandwiched between the two of them turned you on an insane amount. will started to kiss your neck, licking stripes up your neck as hannibal leaned in to kiss your lips. both of the men’s hands explored your body, hannibal’s on your hips and grabbing your ass and will’s exploring your chest and pinching your nipples.

you moaned into hannibal’s mouth as you felt will’s fingers exploring your wet slit, playing with your clit while he teased your nipples. hannibal put his fingers in your mouth for you to slicken up as he followed will’s lead. he slid one finger into your asshole, making you moan and buck your hips against will’s fingers. will slid two fingers into your pussy, curling them up to hit your g-spot. the two of them played with you for a little while before you ended up squirting all over will’s hand.

the two of them praised you for how handsome you were, how well you took their fingers and came for them, peppering your skin with kisses before they moved positions. will laid on his back, starting to slide his cock into you, stretching your sweet pussy out. hannibal began to finger will’s ass as will fucked up into you and grabbed your ass. you leaned in to kiss him as he got finger-fucked, and then leaned back to kiss hannibal as he slid his cock into will’s stretched asshole.

the two men moaned in beautiful succession with you, all of you in complete bliss. their hands explored you and each other. after a few final rough strokes, hannibal bottomed out inside will and came deep in his asshole, making him in turn cum deep into your pussy.

but they weren’t done; hannibal slid his cock into your asshole next, making you shiver and whine, scratching on will’s chest. his curls lay over his face, covered in sweat. will hadn’t taken his cock out of you yet. he started rocking his hips again after you’d gotten adjusted to hannibal’s cock, the noise of the creampie inside you squelching as his balls slapped your taint.

the three of you finished again, and you were flipped over on your back so that hannibal could eat you out; his tongue was magical as he licked will’s cum out of your hole. his tongue slid in and out, and circled your clit. you shuddered and came a third time, grabbing his hair and wrapping your legs over his shoulders. hannibal proceeded to clean off will’s cock as well, will laying right next to where you were as he got sucked off. he gave you sleepy kisses, waiting for hannibal to come back up for air. the two of you shared slurping on hannibal’s cock until it was cleaned off, and fell asleep naked on the bed, fully satisfied.

[stoneagedevil]

Could you please write Hannibal x reader or Hannigram x reader where (fem or g/n) reader loves wholesome video games & don’t know how to dress themselves in any style besides comfy.

It’s up to you but maybe one where he doesn’t feel like he needs to “upgrade” or change them to have them fit into his life.

Not Like Them | Hannibal x Reader

TW/CW: Mention of insomnia, insecurity, nothing graphic.

When people first met you, their eyes never met yours directly, but instead the purple bags underneath them.

So, because of this track record, this is exactly what you expected was going to happen at dinner tonight. Dinner with Hannibal’s esteemed coworkers. People that Hannibal spent much of his time with. People that Hannibal spent much of his time fooling.

Of course, your cover was perfect - it was called “being yourself.” You were a detective who suffered from insomnia, constantly investigating under your alias until you couldn’t, and from there indulging in Animal Crossing: New Horizons on the exclusive Animal Crossing themed Nintendo Switch, something Hannibal insisted you have.

And goodness. How could you possibly resist? You were a sucker for adorable things.

Hannibal was too.

Cut to you now. Sitting on the edge on the master bed with your sweatpant-covered legs tucked up under your chin, ensuring the flowers on your island were perfect - only red ones as well. Despite the outward stillness of your body, your heart was racing, and Hannibal took notice.

“Y/N, my darling you’ve nothing to worry about. I can practically smell the worry seeping from you.” Hannibal mused, ironing a part of a three-piece for tonight’s dinner.

“I’m not like them, Hannibal. Not even like you - not completely. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you with my attendance.” You advised him, sadly. At those words he immediately stopped his task of pressing his dress pants, walking towards you and sitting with you on the edge of the bed.

You’d done your makeup very glamorously, your hair styled neatly, and you were pushing off putting on the outfit Hannibal picked out for you lest he changed his mind. You were sure it was a stunning dress, something that made you worry more. You constantly wore comfy clothing. You couldn’t possibly perch yourself in your seat in your workspace if you were wearing fancy clothing.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t want to change you, Y/N. I picked out your outfit with you in mind. You can sit in that fascinatingly strange way you do.” He smiled as pushed himself off of the bed, going into your walk-in closet and pulling out a hanger dressed with a dress cover. When unzipped, you saw a black jumpsuit, elegant, but not overwhelmingly so.

“Do you really mean it Hannibal?” He’d gone through all of this trouble to ensure you were comfortable?

“Of course. I adore you. I adore your mind and they will too. You’re incredibly smart. How many criminals have you sent away? How many cold cases were solved under your supervision? You’re not like them because you’re smarter than them.” You smiled shyly, turning back to your perfect little garden.

It was your quirks and your ruthlessness to bring people to justice that Hannibal fell in love with, and he was sure that his coworkers would fall under the same spell.

—————-

Would you like a part 2 to this? I know it was short, but I thought it would be a good idea to cut it into 2 parts. Can you guess who I based the reader off of?

[iphig3nia]

Dinner & Diatribes || Sebastian Sallow

“That’s the kind of love, I’ve been dreaming of.”

The slytherin spellbook contains a blood binding spell. You’ve fallen from good graces already, why not fall even more with Sebastian.

(Established relationship, (Y/N) is not MC)

cw - blood, blood play(?), gore, no smut, intimate blood ritual, allusions to nooses and ropes, 18+

a/n || me when um I get inspiration from hozier AND hannigram edits. On another note I should write about Ominis (or literally any other fandom, maybe I should put out a list of what I can write for oops)

—

You sit in the undercroft, after transfiguring a small round dinner table and two chairs. The slytherin spellbook lays in the center of the table, a feast waiting to be had.

Candles light the room, Sebastian stares at you with hungry eyes. You can feel yourself getting dizzy, from what you’re unsure of. A knife lays beside the spellbook. The aged papers flipped to a ritual, a binding spell. You glance at the browned edges of the book and then you glance at Sebastian. His neat shirt is slightly untucked, his green tie is in disarray. He lays back in his chair relaxed. One arm over the back rail, the other resting against an arm of the chair. He’s manspreading, with a stupid smirk on his face.

You peer at him the way a god would peer at a suppliant. In scrutiny, in careful observation. Sebastian looks at you the same way, although his eyes show his hunger more. He has taken the role of worshipper, however he holds more of the power here. You may be the elysian beauty in front of him, but he is the devotee who would give you anything and everything.

It wasn’t your idea really, you simply skimmed over the ritual and moved onto the next page. You didn’t care much for this spellbook. Just holding the book you felt your hands were tainted, like an oil had been rubbed all over and you could never wash it off. Sebastian had seen the page and immediately ripped the book from your hands, reading it over and over again.

You should’ve burned that book when you had the chance, setting it alight as soon as the Scriptorium door opened.

Now you sit here, candles lit and a dinner table set. Your look of curiosity turns to a more incredulous look, eyes narrowing at Sebastian. “We don’t have to-“ he starts but you shush him, still mulling over the spell and its consequences. It’s merely a simple blood binding spell. You’ll know his feelings, his thoughts, his pain. You’ve been together for how long and through how much trauma? You didn’t realize it until it was too late. The angel before you fell from highest heaven, and dragged you down to hell with him.

There really are no repercussions from this, at least you think so. You’ve managed to slink away from learning the unforgivable curses much to Sebastian’s dismay, why not be introduced to the dark arts through a blood ritual.

You loathe Sebastian, only for a moment though. You could spit out a million and one diatribes against him for his behavior, his cursed knowledge. But it wouldn’t do anything, it would only send more blood into the tent growing in his pants. “That’s the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of..” is what he would say if you spoke. You don’t.

You grab the knife and hold the blade up to your other hand. Sebastian watches you in anticipation as you read over the steps. You look up at him and slice your hand, you can’t hide the wince of pain. You slide the knife over to him and he looks up at you and smirks. Your prop your elbow up on the table, bloody palm facing the ceiling. The red liquid oozes over your fingers, trailing down your wrist and forearm.

The air changes in the undercroft, the candles burn more intensely. You watch Sebastian as he slices his palm, holding it out to you. The blood drips onto the table, onto the book. You don’t look at the ritual page anymore, somehow you know what to do next. Your mind becomes cloudy as you gently take hold of his bloody hand and lap up the blood slowly, tenderly.

It’s metallic, it’s divine, it’s him. A drop dribbles down your chin, you wipe it away, smearing blood over your chin. Half-lidded eyes gaze at Sebastian as you take one of his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. He groans slightly at the sight, shifting in his seat. You release his finger with a pop and hold out your hand.

He hungrily grabs your hand and licks the blood up from your wrist to the cut, you flinch at the burn. Sebastian peppers kisses in between his licks, smirking into your hand. He swallows audibly, watching you with bedroom eyes. Your mouth falls open a little bit, you adjust the neck of your shirt, suddenly feeling as if its choking.

Sebastian grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours, nearly shoving his tongue down your throat. Blood is smeared on both of you as hands grapple onto hair or skin. The air becomes heavy and warm, something feels tight around your neck. Like a rope, choking both of you just to pull you two together.

If one swings from a noose, by choice or not, so will the other. Ah, there’s the consequence.

The tightness disappears, the candles burn lowly now. You pull away from the kiss. Blood painted across your face and staining your lips. You’re not sure how to describe it, but something changes. Sebastian looks at you, warmly this time. The hunger isn’t gone though. He gently kisses your lips, smiling into it. Your cut hands intertwined. You pull your hand away reluctantly but wanting to assess the cut. You’re surprised to see that its gone, all that remains is a fresh scar, whitish pink.

The slytherin spellbook slams shut, startling both of you.

You both look at each other and laugh a little. You think about the ritual as Sebastian finds something to clean you both up. You always wanted to protect Sebastian, from everything from the ministry to himself. Maybe now you can actually do that. You’ve stayed with him for this long, might as well bind yourselves to each other for eternity with dark magic to make it more official. He said something about a cave earlier, before the ritual. The spellbook pointed to a relic, capable of healing all ailments, something for Anne. There could be something useful in the cave about it. Sebastian comes back over with a rag and gently wipes your face, smiling and making conversation as he does.

You stand before the devil as he washes your face gently, and you realize heaven hasn’t seen nothing yet.

[cursedvibes]

my headcanon is totally not projecting here,that Jin is a social butterfly autistic man who developed a special interest in sociology and psychology as a result. Jin " I will win at being a normal human" Itadori. Jin's obsession with Kenjaku aside of course. And also because the thought of Jin being a psychiatrist or psychologist and Kenjaku being a mad scientist who could be a killer OBGYN while their own son has called himself dumb more with less than stellar grades than once is hilarious.

I like that. His overly formal speech pattern would fit with that too. Psychiatry would fit well for him and would make him match with Kenjaku. Also explains why he was less/not weirded out by Kaori's personality change. It is something to expect after severe brain injuries, no need to judge her for it. She might get better and rediscover aspects of who she used to be or he will learn to love her the way she is now. Wasuke is being way too hysterical. The old version of Kaori might be dead, but she's clearly still here. Accept reality, old man. He'd probably find Kaori's new behaviour very fascinating then and try to find out how exactly she has changed.

Reminds me, I considered an AU once, where Jin is a criminal psychiatrist and Kenjaku a neuro scientist turned serial killer. Jin is fascinated with them and tries to write a book about their cases while analysing them from a distance. Previously, he only had a few chances to talk to surviving test subjects, but once Kenjaku gets caught, he takes the opportunity to talk to them, Hannigram-style. They click and Kenjaku slowly but surely talks him into sneaking them out of prison.

I wouldn't say Yuuji's dumb though and aside from science topics his grades are fine as far as I remember. Not great, but not bad either. And he's certainly a lot smarter than other characters who get put into the "dumb shonen mc" trope. Most of the time he's just goofy. His problem is mainly his naivete and in case of the early CE and CT explanations, he learned basically yesterday that these things even exist, makes sense he wouldn't immediately get it. His stance against Higuruma's Judgeman was pretty reasonable for example. He figured out propeller man's weakpoint pretty quickly and he caught onto the Culling Game rules and Kenjaku's barrier shenanigans way faster than most readers. Stuff like him screaming through Shibuya that Gojo was sealed just stems from him not being that familiar with jujutsu world yet and not knowing what consequences this would lead to. He's matured a lot though.

[prncssguya]

Hi ! I am sorry I’m actually just writing to commiserate with you about the devil judge, I saw your post about how everyone just puts everything on Yohan and I agree sooo much, it’s infuriating to me, how Min Jung Ho just like immediately says it’s his fault he got attacked, and don’t get me started on the fucking priest, what the hell bro? He was a child, a lonely, weird, abused child, not the fucking devil. Seriously it is getting me crazy, it feels like the only person who sees him as a human being is Gaon. I know a lot of people have made a parallel between tdj and Hannibal, and like, I really disagree ? I understand where it comes from, but Hannibal and Yohan are vastly different characters, and the whole characterization of Yohan to me feels like the writers are saying that while every one thinks this guy is the devil, he is very far from it, whereas Hannibal is definitely a monster, and his relationship with will is monstrous as well (and very captivating don’t get me wrong). What do you think about that parallel ? It just rubs me the wrong way but I don’t know if I put it into words correctly. Sorry for the really long ask btw 😅

Hi! thanks for the question. I completely understand what you’re saying. I hope I can answer this well because it’s really so complex. Sorry if this turns into a whole dissertation essay, Hannibal is like my favorite show ever.

Yea I can see a lot of people draw comparisons to TDJ and Hannibal saying things like “tdj is just Hannibal in a courtroom” or “tdj is Hannibal without the cannibalism” lol. I think what people are mostly looking at is the dynamic between Yohan/GaOn and Hannibal/Will and how they’re similar to some degree.

Gahan and Hannigram have a similar type of tension with each other. The difference is Ga On already had suspicions about Yohan from the very beginning and was very antagonistic towards him. Will, on the other hand, initially thought Hannibal was just psychiatrist and sought out his help. It wasn’t until a little later that he started suspecting him and grew to understand his true dark nature.

Yohan/Hannibal— wealthy socialite, sociopathic tendencies, hiding a secret, wearing a “person suit” (more on this later) to fool those around them, misanthrope and thinks humans are beneath them, thinks no one in the world could possibly understand them until they find the one person who does and they can only show their love through violence and manipulation.

Ga On/Will— sensitive, empathetic, intelligent

Will is first introduced as this tortured genius who has an empathetic ability to recreate scenes. In short, he can vividly construct the mentality of criminals and psychopaths. Being able to step into a darkness like that, you have to eventually lose a part of yourself and start sympathizing with the monsters and that’s what eventually happens to him. They’re both capable of murder. Ga On was ready to kill the con artist for his parents if SH hadn’t intervened. They have a moral compass in their corner to keep them grounded (Jack Crawford for Will, Soo Hyun for Ga On—I won’t even mention Min Junho because the guy is sus). They’re both fighting against an internal darkness

Gahan/Hannigram— THE HOMOEROTIC TENSION.

“I want you to admit what you are.”

“Must I denounce myself as a monster, while you still refuse to see the one growing inside you.”

Actual lines from Hannibal. I can’t even mention all the lines that could apply to Gahan (I could hear these words being exchanged between them). Both Hannibal and Yohan bring out the best, and worst, in their partners. Hannigram is toxic as hell. Hannibal would go through all kinds of sick shenanigans to get Will on his side, Yohan has said he would do bad things to get Ga On on his side. Gahan’s relationship is one that starts out tense and mistrustful, then grew to curiousity, comaderie, now Yohan has come to rely on Ga On without him even realizing it or admitting it to himself.

“No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them.”

This is obvious. Hannibal is a cannibal, Yohan is not.

I was rooting for Will to finally succumb to his darkness and join Hannibal’s side because he found the truest version of himself in Hannibal. I have different expectations for Ga On because my sweet summer child is more different from Will, he’s not as drawn to darkness as Will is (in the recent episode, he was so horrified at the blood on his hands). Will in the end basks in it.

I agree with you about Hannibal, there’s really no denying that he is a monster. And there’s really no explanation for why he is the way he is; he wasn’t abused (as far as we know) but he was orphaned and left to raise his beloved sister (who died) and later became a serial killer. Yohan, on the other hand, was an abandoned and abused child who only had the love of his older brother. It’s no wonder that he puts up a tough exterior because all throughout his life, people have made assumptions about him without trying to get to know him. I mentioned the “person suit” earlier, this is a mask Hannibal puts on to blend into the human world. He carefully built his life and reputation as a surgeon/psychiatrist and socialite, presenting himself as the sociable doctor while living his philosophy of eating the rude on the other side on the veil.

Yohan’s person suit is a defense mechanism. Whereas Hannibal is using his suit to hide a monstrous nature, Yohan uses it to hide his vulnerabilities. He’s wearing this suit to blend in with the elite he hates, but underneath that exterior is just a lonely and misunderstood man (who’s actually a softie in reality)

Finally, I think these two shows don’t really have a whole lot in common besides the homoerotic tension. Gahan are vastly different from Hannigram. Yohan isn’t a true monster/devil while Hannibal is. Will turned his back on his moral compass and succumbed to the darkness, while Ga On can’t seem to let go of his moral compass and he doesn’t desire to become a monster.

Sooo ultimately…

[ssaseaprince]

Hannigram prompt (hurt/comfort & angst): In 3x12, instead of shooting Hannibal, Dolarhyde shoots Will and hurts him in front of Hannibal!

-This is one of my first times writing, so sorry if it’s not the best, but here you go!

They had arrived at Hannibal's cliffside house not long ago, and spoke about the bluff and it's eroding. After that, Hannibal had left Will in the kitchen to go change, and was now back, his clothing was amended and he was out of the gray prison jumpsuit.

Leaning against the counter, Will considers the man across from him. 

Hannibal isn't as closed off as he usually is. He looked at Will like he was a blink from vanishing, drinking in the sight of him for the first time in three years. After a few moments, he finally looks away, getting the wine he had brought out. Pouring it into two glasses, he hands one to Will and then speaks. 

"My compassion for you is inconvenient, Will." He's serious as he says it, but his eyes are soft. He's got the look of a man who surrendered to the inevitable Will thinks before replying. "If you're partial to beef products, it's inconvenient to be compassionate toward a cow." It's a rude remark, and the effect it has on Hannibal is immediately apparent. He looks disgusted, offended. 

"You are not a simple cow, Will. You never have been. I have always known the potential you hold, and tried to bring it out. You're beautiful Will, enamoring. Comparing you to anyone else, especially the pigs that grace my table, is appalling."

"Well, your idea of how to treat somebody who you supposedly hold in the highest regard, is severely lacking." Will replies, downing the rest of his wine and setting it on the counter. 

“You mean more to me than anyone, Will. And I know you know that. I will admit there are things I have done to get us to this point that I regret, but all I’ve wanted has been you. For you to experience your becoming, to embrace who you are. To see me, beyond all of our walls and forts.”

Will sighs, because he does understand. He’d tried to move on, forget about Hannibal and all the feelings and desires he’s tried so hard to bury, but seeing him again makes it all the more obvious how he can’t run from it anymore. He can’t run from his desires and bloodlust. And he can’t run from Hannibal, or how he feels for him. "There is a lot we need to talk about, but we don't have time to have this conversation now, there are more important things. Dolarhyde's here. He's looking for a sacrifice for the Dragon. And I don't think we'd survive another separation at this point." Will replies. “I’m not leaving you again, so we can talk about everything when all this is over and the dragon is dead.”

As if hearing Will’s words, and maybe he did, Dolarhyde chose that moment to attack. The bullet broke through the window Hannibal had his back to, raining glass onto him and the floor. Hannibal was confused, something he didn’t feel much. He and Will were both under the impression that if Dolarhyde was coming after him, and yet the bullet had missed him, and Dolarhyde would not have missed. He had turned to look at the window when the glass had shattered, but turning back now, what he saw made his heart stop. Will stood across from him, pale faced and clutching his stomach, where red bloomed through his shirt. For a moment, Hannibal’s mind went blank. He never panicked, he hadn’t been in a situation that made him genuinely panic since he was a child.

 He was spurred into action though when Will’s knees began to buckle, catching him and gently lowering them to the floor. All the blood had drained from Will’s face and his breathing was coming out in quiet gasps. 

Will’s hands were pressing on his stomach, and Hannibal had to try to gently pry them away. When he resisted, Hannibal reached up and held Will’s face between his hands.

“Will, look at me. I need you to let me see it, I need to see if the bullet is still there or if it went through.” He was trying to stay calm, he really was. Will needed him to be calm. But this was Will. He had finally got him back and he couldn’t lose him. 

Will’s piercing blue eyes stared into his before nodding and moving his hands. Hannibal grabbed a clean dish towel that was hanging near the sink, and held it tightly to the wound after inspecting it as much as he could. The bullet had made a clean exit, so at least he wouldn’t have to dig it out.  

Will brought his hand up, gently brushing away the tears that were running down Hannibal’s cheeks. Hannibal hadn’t even noticed he was crying.

“I won’t let you die Will, you’re going to be fine.” he choked out. Will nods, “He’s going to be here any second, and if either of us are going to live, we’re going to have to kill him.” He wasn’t sure how long he’d make it before passing out, but he wouldn’t leave Hannibal to fight the dragon alone. So they waited, putting pressure on the gunshot wound and mentally preparing themselves. They didn’t have to wait long. 

Dolarhyde stepped into the kitchen after pushing through the shattered window. The Great Red Dragon thirsted for blood as he looked down at the two men on the floor, and he waited as Hannibal held Will’s hands to the towel replacing his before standing up. Dolarhyde had gone to great lengths to make them believe he wanted to kill Hannibal instead of Will, and it was easier than expected. The two were so caught up in one another they hadn’t been putting as much thought into it as they should have been. He knew he needed an element of surprise if he was going to get what he wanted.

“The Great Red Dragon demands blood. The boy is already dying, step aside and give him to me.”

Will looked up, watching the exchange through blurry eyes. 

“You will not have Will, and he will not die.” The fury in Hannibal’s eyes was palpable, and the usually so calm and collected man was practically shaking in anger. He looked feral. 

Beautiful thought Will. He looks beautiful. His person stripped away the moment someone dared to hurt Will. “You’ve been unspeakably rude. I expected more.”

Dolarhyde lunged suddenly, pushing away Hannibal and grabbing Will. 

The movement was jarring on his wound, but Will was ready. He stabbed him in the stomach with the knife he had hidden, twisting it and causing the dragon to let go of him. Hannibal grabbed Dolarhyde, pulling him outside into the courtyard, and the real fight began. Pumped with adrenaline, Will followed, and together they fought. It was bloody and painful and feral. But oh so beautiful. They defeated and killed The Great Red Dragon, his blood staining the stone of the courtyard. They clung to each other, neither feeling their injuries at the moment, to dazed on adrenaline and enamored with Will’s becoming, high off their first kill together. 

Devoid of person suits and lies, they were left exposed to each other. 

“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will, for both of us.” Tears dripping down both of their faces and out of breath, they held each other. 

“It’s beautiful.” It was, they were. “I love you.” Will whispered. “Don’t let go.”

With their arms wrapped tightly around one another, they fell.

[snickiebear]

hiyaaa hehehe

10, 13 and 20 💚✨

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!!!!

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Okay so my fav fandoms would be The Old Guard, Hannibal, Naruto, ATLA, and Soul Eater. 

My favorite pairings JoeXNicky, Hannigram, Kakasaku/Shikasaku/any multisaku ship (excluding Sasosaku), and then Zukka. 

Finally, my fav character to read for is SAKURA. I LOVE THAT BITCH. she is endless potential and i love seeing how everyone writes her differently, though my fav is unapologetically badass Sakura. i just love her so much. 

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

AHAHAHA sometimes! I’ve gone over this ask before but it just depends on the fic itself. Like most of the ones posted i had an idea and just ran with it. I knew what I wanted to happen then I just filled in the blanks. For the intimacy of being understood I did like a “progressive” outline where i would write and then plan what i wanted next.

As for right now, i have an outline for my first like “serious” fic and i think its pretty digestible? Its chapter by chapter in bullet points and pretty play by play...though, hm. Well, now that I think about it the outline might be pretty confusing because i make references to things that people might not understand A LOT so theres that... as in world building shit. i think u get it AHAHAHA

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

The initial thought. That first idea in its rawest form where you havent turned it over countless times in your head. I love that aha moment, that stroke of genius when you figure out a kink in your plot or know exactly where you’re going with the fic/how it ends. 

For me, it feels like i could literally punch god. i had a break through when texting my beta a few days ago (she doesn’t want know of any of my plans for Of Love and War) and i went apeshit i was like “I AM THE SMARTEST PERSON IN THE WORLD” and her immediate response was like “great now im scared” AHAHAHAHA

ask me shit plz

[grandcollections]

by @bonearenaofmyskull 

Summary: 

While isolated from the rest of humanity as they escape the United States on their own sailing vessel, Will grapples with what he wants out of his renewed relationship with Hannibal.

Comments:

God, what a lovely, perfectly measured, somber post-fall fic. This is one out of maybe three perfectly executed post-fall fics that are my personal canon. This one... oh, THIS one!!!.... A somber sailboat fic composed of quiet moments and introspection, surprisingly short considering the amount of emotion and resolution it packs in its small real estate, it's the perfect fic to read the very night after you finish the last episode of Hannibal for a good, cleansing cry and a full heart before you go to bed.

Will had been afraid those few weightless moments: afraid and at peace, warmed by Hannibal’s body in his arms, and it had been so right. Right that they should die there together, right that they had killed together, right that Hannibal had known what was coming and still given himself over to Will as they stood on the eroding edge together. It was right when Hannibal’s arms tightened— desperately, compulsively— around Will. In those moments, Will had loved him more than he could reckon.

But here was Will, only a few feet away from him, his fingers thoughtlessly caressing the silver circle of wheel with just the pads, gripping, releasing. There he was, the toes on one foot curling and pressing into Cetus’s decking, his bare feet peeking out from new linen pants, slightly too long without shoes on. There—impossibly there, undeniably there, inconceivably there. Close enough to touch, if Hannibal reached for him. Hannibal stored him up in his mind, in a room encompassing all the oceans of the world.

“You are so consistently insistent," Will said. Hannibal smiled. "And you so persistently resistant."

TLDR: The writing is exquisite— the tone belongs to the show, pairs perfectly with it. It’s full of restrained sensuality, has an amazing grasp on nautical terminology, a mastery of setting the scene in the loveliest way possible, and a real grasp on Hannibal-esque dialogue that was so, so satisfying. It treats both Hannibal and Will individually with such respect; Hannibal’s yearning and penchant for manipulation and his constant pushing, Will’s reservations and melancholy and frustration. Both of their fears and their pain. Hannibal is allowed to be vulnerable and afraid (while giving us heaps of pining and possessive Hannibal) and Will is allowed to be strong in a way that rings true to both their characters. It highlights the bitterly circular nature of their relationship, the way pain and tenderness seem to always be intertwined. The fic has so much angst and little resolution (just how I like it—  a bitch likes blue balls). What’s unique about this fic is how it refuses to shy away from any facet of the twisted, tremulous place Hannibal and Will would be post-fall — the immense confusion, the yearning and learning and re-learning, the sea of blood and betrayal between them. This fic is not an ending; it’s a beginning, and that’s its true strength.

(much) more detailed review below the cut!

I'll talk about the writing first! (I'm being shockingly coherent here considering how much I incoherently screamed while reading/ in the fic comments). The TONE! is literal perfection. IMMACULATE. Only a few paragraphs in and I felt like I was watching the show, I FELT the bond between the show and the fic. The aesthetics matched — a feat, as the author manages to do that with such tight, contained writing while the aesthetic of the show is outrageously, extraneously beautiful. At no point does this author resort to flowery writing or extraneous detail— every word is measured, purposeful, bare, yet bursting with feeling.

This translates to one of my favorite aspects of the writing: its restrained sensuality. I say “sensuality” instead of “sexuality” because that’s what it is— gentle, but roiling eroticism, barely communicated in the slightest of details: 

He became slowly conscious of Hannibal’s steady gaze on him as he moved. He halted as he came to his door, hand on the latch. Somewhere in the back of his mind those words echoed again—Is Hannibal in love with me?—and Bedelia’s measured tones as she answered... Will turned his head but did not quite look at him. Hannibal’s attention remained steady, intent, curious. “Will?” he asked. Will went inside. Thereafter the association had him and would not let him go. He became aware of Hannibal’s attention in a manner he had never thought about much before.

... but instead he stayed with Hannibal, watching Hannibal’s face just inches from his own. Hannibal licked his lips and continued to apply pressure, watching Will watch him. They remained in this tableau, waiting for deliverance.

Hannibal peeled the shrimp and removed the veins with deft turns of his wrists, his sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows. “I can help with that,” Will said.

Will could not resist testing his hand’s movement and felt it brush against the seam on the inside of Hannibal’s thigh. “Try to be still,” Hannibal murmured. He ran his warm palm over the muscles of Will’s shoulder again, much the same as he had smoothed the blanket fifteen minutes before, and as he had once drawn a blanket over Will’s chilled form and caressed him, Will thought idly, mere hours after shoving Abigail’s ear down his throat.

Hannibal’s lips were parted, and Will could feel his warm breath. He knew the look without needing to see it clearly: admiration and ache warring equally over his chiseled features. Consuming, as always. Drinking him in. Taking. He wondered what Hannibal saw in his own face.

What’s glorious about this style of muted sensuality is that the power is all left to the implications — which are infinitely more than a scene in which a finite ~thing~ happens—  to what’s unsaid, not done (but yearned for). Yearning (oh, there is so much yearning) takes a front seat. As a huge fan of Hemingway’s iceberg theory and contained writing in general, I loved this style.

The physical descriptions of the boat and the beauty of the sea were always lovely and anchoring. This author has a ridiculous command of the nautical world, and even if I didn’t understand all of it I deeply appreciated the attention to detail —

Hannibal had been a long time indoors and not a molecule of this natural beauty was lost on him. But mostly he watched Will. Will did not see this world of ultraviolet glare and sunblind desaturation as Hannibal did, but rather with the eye of a mariner and a fisherman. In the previous week, Hannibal had coaxed him into voicing some of his observations, and seeing life through Will's eyes had been in its way as fascinating as viewing death. A loon's laughing cry rose and passed on more than one occasion, and Will commented that it was a good sign for the fishery, that there must be a good number of menhaden, a baitfish, in the Bay that year...

A diffuse glow of sunlight illuminated his face from below, as the sun peeked through the skylights and lit up the woodwork and white upholstery in the saloon. It warmed the recesses of Hannibal’s sculpted face and made his eyes glow, more amber than brown.

There was no word on the weather, of the hot and unnatural stillness that held Hannibal and himself in its unrelenting grip.

The quotes at the beginnings of the chapters were also a really nice touch!

Hannibal's voice, his elite brand of dialogue— cyclical, cutting, seemingly random but never actually so— is captured perfectly; a difficult feat. It was so satisfying to read: 

“Moments are all that we need, Will. Enough moments, strung together, make eternity.”

"To feel intensely is not a symptom of weakness, Will. It's the mark of the truly alive."

This makes the hannigram conversations feel so authentic, so classically them, with Hannibal's philosophical overtures, the religious imagery, the refusing to shy away from previous interactions/conflict between them, and prodding and digging into Will as he loves to do, as he can't resist doing. Combined with Will’s insolence and the way he can surprise Hannibal, can (briefly) render hims speechless, the conversations could be scenes pulled from the show. 

I deeply loved and appreciated the instances of Hannibal pushing, of refusing to let things go (more on that later), of behaving instinctually (especially when Will pulls strong emotion from him). It rings so true to the character—  Hannibal’s worst vice (with Will at least) is his inability to control his black impulses when he's overcome with feeling when it comes to Will, especially if it's negative, burning emotion like betrayal, jealousy, or hurt. (See: Mizumono, Dolce). Then Hannibal becomes a viper, lunging and striking without thinking, poisoning the space between them.

Hannibal’s continuous pushing was a product of the author refusing to ignore the latent issues that would lie between our favorite murder husbands post-fall. A lot of fics jump straight into murder-husbands epilogue or Will-is-immediately-as-bloodthirsty-and-happily-cannibalistic-as-Hannibal (and I'm not gonna lie there's a couple of those that are favorites, writing makes all the difference for me) but this fic doesn't do that. I’ll admit that it’s very much not a focus of the fic, there is absolutely no exploration of how Will feels about killing or cannibalism, if he felt powerful, if he wants to chase that feeling, no exploration of “it’s beautiful”. It’s not a weakness of the fic, just very glaringly not a part of it. This fic is severely focused on Hannigram’s complicated feelings about each other, in a dreamlike isolated place. The fic doesn’t bother itself with morality, doesn’t place judgement, positive or negative, on any of those acts. It also doesn’t dismiss them from the future, and any realistic future would involve such acts. As I said before, this fic is a beginning. 

But, yes, back to my point! The fic touches on issues such as Abigail, Molly and Walter, and even the fall off the cliff by having Hannibal push Will again and again (even literally). I’m hesitant to say “explores” rather than “touches on” because it doesn’t do that, doesn’t provide a full resolution— it acknowledges these issues, establishes that they would be part of a continued conversation, and moves on. (Like I said; a beginning). 

Although Will rarely (or may actually never) bring up any of his own issues— he only engages when forced to by Hannibal— he does display strength in typical Will ways, through resistance and insolence. 

What Hannibal wanted was what Will had shared with Molly and Walter... He did not want to give these things to Hannibal. 

A lot of fics will have Will either shy away from any discussion of Molly and Walter, because they’re ugly and difficult to execute well, and so they are erased as if they never existed— or they will simply have Will completely demote and reject Molly and Walter and the life he lived in Maine. But in this fic, Will is still protective of them, even as a memory, even as something that exists completely in the past, even as he moves forward with Hannibal. It’s a display of strength, of non-compliance, that I love.

Will shows strength in other ways, too. While he doesn’t start many of the difficult conversations as Hannibal does (as only insightful Hannibal can do), once engaged he’s present and sharp, sometimes unyielding and even hurtful. Will doesn’t shy away from the bitterness of the walls placed between them, walls that aren’t made of matter but of space— space Will placed between them, space Hannibal took (and continues to try to take) from him.

The result are many (beautiful) references to their past, to the rivers of blood between them: 

The grief of their years apart flooded after, with the weight of what they had done to each other and what they had suffered at each other’s hands. The shadows of pain and stains of blood surrounded them, filling the boat, threatening to sink it and carry them both to the bottom of the sea.

He had been sure, and he was still sure- they had to deal with each other, to grope their way through their shared maze of long-stored griefs and the dead ends of failed trust.

Hannibal had awoken, and Will’s peace fled.

This last gutting quote takes me to another hallmark of this fic for me— a truly beautiful and mature display of their mutual unhappiness, a living example of “be careful what you wish for”. Both men have wished for this (for different lengths of time and in different degrees, yes, but they wished for it)— to be alone together, which is to not be alone, finally (“we are both alone without each other”). But now that they have it, they learn that they have to actually be together, and that perhaps they don’t know to do that, or at least how best to do that. They learn that there’s so much pain and unresolved emotion to contend with, when faced with the nothing but the other and time. 

And so, after the story ends, they don’t leap into happily-ever-after. Instead, they leap into explorations of their unresolved feelings and their own failings. There’s such a deep understanding of both men’s failings, the unique ways in which their hearts are broken — there’s even a beautiful mirror where both men (separately) reflect on the ways in which they’re not enough for the other. 

As then, Hannibal knew he had little with which to fight this enemy. He had no secrets left to reveal, no curiosity to exploit, no monsters to fight, no daughter to share, no one left to save but Will himself. He had only Hannibal Lecter, and that had never been enough.

Will wondered what equally tender and ravenous urge had brought Hannibal forward to watch over him while he slept... He tried to imagine if there might ever be any way he could give Hannibal enough to sate him. Maybe there was, if Hannibal had succeeded in sawing his way into Will’s head and eaten his brain after all. Will could not see it otherwise. The whole of Will’s entire life and being was not enough. It had never been enough.

This whole thing is both gorgeous and tragic, both of them harboring imagined shortcomings and impossible desires. Will wonders if literal consumption, to be eaten or allowing himself to be possessed in every other way, is the only thing that will sate Hannibal. And this Will is, very definitively, not willing to do that. (I’m not averse to fics where Will is— when done well, it’s supremely good). And Hannibal has always used Something Else to hook Will, to keep Will, and so the tragedy is in the hypothetical— what could have happened had he resisted some of his own worst impulses? Did Hannibal behave this way because of Will’s resistance, or would Will not have resisted him, rejected him, had he not been so manipulative, coercive, demanding, taking? *Sigh.* I also love that Hannibal is allowed to acknowledge his own failings and betrayals in this fic; it doesn’t always exists in post-fall fics  (again, it's usually Will apologizing for his false life with Molly, etc). It makes for some delicious angst.

And my god, is the angst good! Striking, painful, gutting, love that for meee!!!! (I genuinely do!) 

Will did not speak, not even to thank Hannibal. It stung. 

BABEYYYY NOOOO why do the SIMPLEST sentences fucking destROYYYY me?!! 

Does that make you feel better?” Will asked in a low voice. “It’s not enough that you take everything else—you have to take even the symbols of anything I had that wasn’t about you?” 

Reaching out, he gripped the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt in his hand, closing his fist around it slowly. “Maybe that should tell you something.” Hannibal twitched slightly—Will had caught some of his chest hair—but he remained passive. It was Will’s weak arm, his right, and so the gesture was just that: a gesture, made for no better reason than emphasis. But it felt good to have Hannibal under him, looking surprised.... “What should it tell me, Will?” “Some things”—Will breathed deeply through his nose, trying to steady himself—“do not belong to you.” His voice came low and quiet. Hannibal’s hand came up and touched his arm, moving up to the recently injured shoulder, running his palm over Will’s shirt, passing his fingers over the roughness of scars beneath. “I only wish to know you.”

literally SCREAMING INCOHERENTLY!!! I haven’t even used the worst (best) angsty bits — gotta save something for the actual fic! so go go go!!! 

This deep understanding of both Will and Hannibal as separate individuals shines throughout the fic, but I’d like to showcase some really strong character lines. On Hannibal:

Hannibal was pleased with his age and the experiences that fueled it: every moment he lived he had snatched from God’s own sticky fingers. 

He knew that Hannibal could and did partition his mind against such associations, that his affection was every bit as real as his violence... He could only find and explore this newly tender and painful place within him, like a man who cannot keep from tonguing an aching tooth.

... the mercurial author of both his pain and his relief. 

He had probably investigated all of Will's belongings at some point. 

Hannibal could believe, but he could never know. 

(^ one of my favorite parts of the fic; the recurring explanation of Hannibal’s desire to possess Will is a product of his fear of not knowing him. This line is so simple and well done, yet full of anguish.) 

Will had seen Hannibal’s heart break enough times to recognize it in his stillness, in the slight thrust of his jaw beneath closed lips, in the shifts between denial and acceptance in his brown eyes, which could find no safe place to rest in the landscape of Will’s face.

(i’m EMO.) Okayokay, Will’s character lines are just as fantastic:

He would be unable to tend his right arm well with his left hand, and Hannibal would insist, and he would be forced to give in. Will wished it did not matter.

(THIS. LINE. So much communicated about Will's mingled frustration and acceptance, about the power imbalance in this relationship, in just six words.?

He was so tired of it-tired of the vulnerability, of dependency, tired of the torture of needing comfort, of wanting comfort from his tormentor. 

Will had adopted his trademark flat affect by the second of these sessions. He would stare ahead, at the pulse at the base of Hannibal’s throat, following Hannibal’s instructions to the letter, but he might as well have been the walking dead for all the emotion he expressed. He spoke when spoken to and offered nothing. (my chest hurts, oh will)

Will was a dark presence near him, slim and sharp as a cutlass.

And then he smiled, gray eyes lifting to Hannibal’s, bringing Hannibal’s heart into his throat. He smiled that sad smile of his, the smile that could contain oceans of sweetness and bitterness all at once. 

✨  and this line, that encompasses both of them: 

It still hurt, to be so vulnerable. It hurt that Hannibal had turned on him and could have drowned him or let him drown, yet again after so many times down this path. It hurt that Hannibal lived day to day and moment to moment, awaiting Will’s next betrayal.

and oh, oh this fic is rife with lovely hannigram passages: 

Hannibal seemed to sense his weariness. “We’re always braver in the face of our own pain than in the face of the pain of those we love,” he said quietly. He turned his attention back to Will’s arm and let the conversation rest.

Is Hannibal in love with me? he had asked... Will had been enormously afraid of either answer. Hannibal continued to cut the bell pepper in to a twisting spiral of red, his face and body still, only his hands working. “I thought of you,” Will said finally. “Often.” Hannibal’s breath released in a slow sigh. Will watched the words fill him up, set him to rest, with no outward change in his demeanor. He wished it were always so easy. Or had it always been?

His movements were slow and deliberate, less like a doctor at work than a supplicant at prayer. 

(^ okokok i'm NOT going feral i'm NOT! supplication/worship/devotee imagery in tender moments between lovers/from a hopeful lover to the object of his/her devotion is my WEAKNESS)

What would you give me?” Will asked finally. “What would you have of me?” “Would you give me”—Will articulated slowly, deliberately—“Bedelia du Maurier?” Hannibal felt a thrill of surprise in his chest. Will was steady, studying. Hannibal watched the gray-blue of his irises. His pupils were constricted in the harsh daylight. “Do you want her?” Hannibal asked curiously. “No.” “I would deny you nothing.”

But, there is resolution. (Some). There is peace to be found. It comes in the form of Will letting go of the desire to ever kill Hannibal:

... dim memory of the thrill he used to get while imagining killing Hannibal came and went, just a phantom—powerless, soon forgotten. There was something freeing in the knowledge that he could not kill Hannibal even if he tried.... Will held himself over Hannibal for several long seconds. He imagined hurting him, pressing a knee to his throat and crushing his voice box, silencing that voice forever. No thrill accompanied the thought now. No pain, either. Nothing. He would never do it, he knew; he had taken his opportunity at the top of the cliff, and it would never return.

and is completed when he lets go:  All of it was lost to the sea. 

There is such tangible relief in Will’s deciding to let go of any illusions of killing Hannibal, and in releasing his pain to the sea. (And remember, the entire premise of this fic is Will deciding what he wants from Hannibal in this new life they find themselves in... and he decides.) With it comes such hard won, painful freedom. I literally felt a surge of relief and a burden dropped; Will’s. He is freed from having to "seek justice" or do the right thing. It's over. He can just, BE (whatever that looks like). 

ps: I haven’t quoted too much from the last two chapters, as that’s where the most “plot” happens and they’re phenomenal and I can’t just copy and paste the whole chapters here. Please, just go read it! And I will link my comments: chapter 13 | chapter 14 

I just... can’t say enough good things about this fic, but I’ve thoughtfully laid out everything major. It’s tremendous, satisfying, lovely. Go give it a read. 

[stratsandwhiskeywritestuff]

Q+A With Strats and Whiskey!

We held a brief Q+A over on our Twitter, and had some awesome questions come in! We’ll post em here too for everyone to see. Have questions for us too? Hit us up on Twitter or in our ask box :D we’d love to hear from you!

Questions include asking us about the collaborative process, about writing kink together, the trust that takes, what characters we love writing most and our thoughts on writing in general!

PaleGlimmer: I asked about collab writing because I have no idea how you make it work.

WHISKEY: I’ve been collaborating on stories since I got into Hannibal. For me, it started as an offshoot of online RP. If you go back far enough you can see that, because the writing is stilted and jumpy, and you can tell that two people are writing. I’ve had three major collab partners in my fandom life and after a time our “voices” and styles start to gel and it becomes more seamless. That, for me, means that’s the right partner to write with, because you start taking on their mannerisms and descriptions, and they take on yours, and people can’t tell (or can tell very vaguely) that two people wrote a story.

As for technicalities, we just “tag” each other with part of the story for the other to continue it. Sometimes it’s short tags, dialogue, or brief descriptions, other times we get carried away (in the best way possible) and end up writing 6k a day. With Strats and I, we started with preferential characters and usually tagged for just them, but now we cover everything and everyone in our tags.

STRATS: Whiskey covered this pretty well. With Whiskey, We share characters pretty evenly now, and just write about 200-300 word chunks back and forth, but there are definitely characters we each feel more comfortable with. And scenarios we both excel at! Even if I haven’t written much, I’ll tag Whiskey in if we are coming up on something Whiskey is better at, and vice versa. (For example, Whiskey is much better at pretentious Hannibal speeches than I am, and I have a particular fondness for writing emotional breakdowns. This doesn’t mean we are the only person to write those, of course, just that we tag each other in more often.)

If I’m writing with anyone else, I usually write the same way. There’s only one person I’ll still do RP-style writing with. Usually I try to match my partner’s style, so for example, when I wrote with YAMD I focused a lot more on detailed descriptions than I usually do. I can’t really describe it, I just try to align with how my partner writes. 

I’M NOT VERY HELPFUL, SORRY :D

Cuttlefishcatfish:

1. What do you love about writing?

STRATS: When you finally get to that moment, that scene you’ve been thinking about for AGES, the one you have entirely plotted for weeks. 

Also, writing emotional breakdowns. Give me a sobbing panic attack any day. 

WHISKEY: The moment you hit the flow point and everything just makes sense; either an idea just CLICKS or you finally get over that plot point you were worried about and you are racing through.

2. What do you hate about writing?

STRATS: god why haven’t we yet invented a way for me to think words onto the page? I’M SO TIRED. 

WHISKEY: That meme? The one that goes like “I need this very specific fic and I need it immediately… which means I need to write it… but I just wanna read it, not write it”. That.

3. One writing tip that you could give to other writers.

STRATS: When I was a teenager I came across some writing advice from an author I loved (I want to say Steven King, but it’s been years). The advice was “sit down and actually write.” And I was PISSED. As a teenager struggling with motivation, I hated that advice. 

Now I’m almost 27 and I can safely say that the best writing advice I can give you is JUST FUCKING WRITE THE THING. Even on days I feel like my writing is garbage, I force out a bit of garbage. Force your way through the shitty parts so you can get to the fun parts. You can always go back and edit the shitty parts later (and often it turns out they weren’t as shitty as you thought they were). 

WHISKEY: Practice. I’m sorry, I’m trite and boring but honestly that’s the only way you will get better, get into a habit of writing all the time, and start to find your own voice. Practice even just 100 words a day, coz that’s 100 words more than you had yesterday.

4. One overused word in fanfics?

WHISKEY: Oh god our beta actually points these out now haha! I’m terrible for teeth/tongue/lip action (he tongued the corner of his mouth, flashed his teeth, bit his lip)

STRATS: any time someone’s smile “quirks up at the corners” or you read the words “fluttering/thrumming pulse,” that’s me. It’s always me. I have been called out on the hummingbird pulse before. 

5. Have you guys disagreed on a story direction? If yes, how do you resolve that?

WHISKEY: I don’t think we have *disagreed* really, once in a while we find that a story doesn’t flow how it should, and we start over, or a character we had planned in our head ends up written differently on a tag. In that case we usually just ping the other and explain what we were after (we have a chat always open alongside writing) and figure out what works best for the story. I can think of a couple times that’s happened and it’s always a super chill and fair affair; both of us have “won” those kinds of things before.

STRATS: We gel really well together, and often our stories are at least loosely planned out from the beginning, so it doesn’t come up much. Every once in a while one of us says “so I don’t think this is working” and we usually do our best to find a way to change it around. It’s not really “fun” to write together if you’re making your partner write something they aren’t happy with, so we try to take each other’s opinions into account. 

6. How did you guys manage to let the other into your thought process? Writing is intimate. With a writing partner, that person knows what your kinks, opinions about things, etc. are. Was it scary to let that person in and see you being vulnerable with your works? This is assuming that you let your personality bleed through your stories.

So, this is an awesome question actually, thanks for asking it, and the answer might sound a bit weird so bear with us! We both get a bit of a (major) crush on our writing partners when we write, and after. Not in a way that would be considered cheating or manipulative but in a way that is… intimate. You said it right that it’s intimate. Neither of us want to date the other (besides, Strats is married) but we love each other and spend a lot of time together with our writing.

There is a lot of trust there, and opening up is a process. I think with Strats and I, we started talking about a kink we shared (human furniture) and it sort of bled out from there. “Oh, I also like bondage! And I’m a huge fan of cock and ball torture, you into that?” and it grew from there.

There were some kinks that we came across that we’d both agree were not our jam and we’d just put them away, and there were some kinks that at one point were not one of our kinks but now we share them. These are interesting ones because it happened absolutely organically; neither of us ever push the other into kinks we know make the other uncomfortable, but we do offer the chance, if one of us is so inclined.

For Whiskey this was ABO and feminization, for Strats it’s underage. Once in a while we’ll push a little to see how we feel about those things, but there’s always a carte blanche to back out if anything makes us uncomfortable. It’s honestly such a safe place to explore these things that we really love it. Also both of us are super kinky and very open about it so there’s usually VERY little (if any) filter when we talk sex/kink.

Blue Posey: Where do you get the ideas from? Your stories are so varied.

WHISKEY: We shamelessly pluck ideas from the Hannigram Kinkmeme on Discord, we have about 150 saved in a spreadsheet that we random number generate from when we want a new idea. Sometimes it’s AUs of movies or other shows that we like, sometimes it’s just an idea that we’ve had that we put out into the void and one of us will freak out and connect it to something.

STRATS: we also both keep track of twitter and tumblr and will send each other prompts based on those. We are following quite a few non-fandom porn accounts… 

and of course, sometimes I wake up at four am and text whiskey absolute gibberish and in the morning we write a fic.

Christina Shinn: I always like knowing about what gets writers really excited about their own fics. How writers overcome their writer's block. What motivates writers. What are some pet peeves of writers. YAY! Love your fics!

WHISKEY: 1. I get excited about fics I know people are excited about. If Strats pings me with a story idea and she’s stoked about it, I’ll catch that fever and be entirely into exploring that story. Likewise if someone commissions us or requests a story that really digs its heels in.

STRATS: 1) I’ve gotten a LITTLE less vain now that I do commissions and gifts for other people, but generally, every single thing I have written is something I’ve wanted to read, and so I love rereading it. Sometimes I’ll cringe at a typo or a mistake or an awkward line, but overall, I love everything I write. I have spent hours retreading my own fics before. Write the kind of story you want to read!

WHISKEY: 2. Writer’s block is an asshole and honestly I have no actual “fix it” for you; collab writing definitely helps because you have someone to soundboard off of, but even then sometimes we find ourselves just stuck. That’s when we start yet another original story XD

STRATS: 2) Writer's block occasionally eats me alive. If it’s REALLY hitting you, take a day off. It’s okay. Take a break. Do something fun. 

But once that day is over WRITE THE THING. Write something terrible. Just do it. You can always fix it later

WHISKEY: 3. Collab writing is hugely motivating for me, it’s an immediate and awesome feedback loop of love. You tag, you send it off, and someone FINDS THAT IDEA COOL ENOUGH TO CONTINUE and ping you back, and you have new material to work with that didn’t come out of your head and… it’s great, it really is. Also feedback from readers. Even if it’s critique (note: not “I hated this” but “this could have been done differently imo”) it’s a great way to keep growing and moving as a writer.

STRATS: 3) collab writing is really motivating for me because I am a Guilt Monster and other people are relying on me. For my own stuff, I’m motivated because I’m writing something I like. Something I want to reread later. 

If a story isn’t working for you (and it isn’t required for some sort of work or whatever), stop writing it. Go write something you like. It’s okay to say “actually, I don’t want to write this one anymore.”

WHISKEY: 4. I think every writer has a pet peeve regarding their own headcanons. Some people hate endearments with a pairing, but have their own pet names that work for them in their personal headcanon. In others’ work? There are certain things that irk me, but they’re also entirely personal. If I feel that a character has been written really OOC in a fic that is marked as canon for instance, it grinds my gears. THAT SAID that’s also the writer’s own prerogative.

STRATS: 4) I have too many pet peeves to mention because I am a snob, but I still have relatively low standards for what I’ll read, so I’ve read a vast variety of things. 

Besides what Whiskey said about characterization, I have a few aspects of life that I’m somewhat knowledgeable about, and I can’t stand when people get it WRONG. Special mention goes to people writing children badly, which is the entire reason Family of Choice exists. If you don’t have children or know children, PLEASE do some research into child development before you write them. It drives me up the wall when kids are doing things they shouldn’t be at that age. NEWBORNS. DON’T. GIGGLE.

[xtattlecrimex-blog]

Canon doesn’t work that way [AKA: Why Hannigram Isn’t Canon]

This is an actual comment I received on an Instagram post I made explaining why Hannigram isn’t canon. Let’s take a look at it:

This isn’t how canon works. At all. Canon is like well, a bible of information. Something literally written in stone. In fact, that’s the origin of the word. From biblical times. Though I can agree to some extent, some, the bible is open to interpretation there are still a bunch of things the bible does or doesn’t say and still hard and fast rules the vast majority of Christians will all agree with, no matter how they interpret the bible otherwise. For instance, the ten commandments. No matter if you go to a Catholic church, a Baptist Church, an Evangelical church, everyone has pretty much all agreed that the 10 commandments are solid rules to live by. Even when you do find that the bible has a slightly different interpretation than others, you will not find something so wildly outlandish that it doesn’t make any sense. This is what canon is and why it exists. It’s rules that are written down, set in stone, and definitely words that define a story, ideology, whatever you want to call it.

Once canon is written it cannot be changed. This has been the rule since, well, the beginning of Goddamn time. I know I’ve already brought this up but apparently it needs to be repeated because the Hannibal fandom still doesn’t understand what canon is and what fan fiction is. It really doesn’t help that the creator of the show, Bryan Fuller, doesn’t seem to understand this either. We are talking about a guy who literally got fired from a show for demanding he be able to write fan fiction instead of follow the book adaptation, and not only is this ridiculous but he demanded the actual author allow this when the author was the producer on the show. If the creator of Hannibal is this freaking self entitled, all he does is pass it onto his fans who believe him but will defend him.

Case in point: Hannigram. It is not canon. Not by any stretch of the word. It’s not even open to interpretation given the actual facts of the show and the events that took place. You cannot possibly interpret Hannibal’s behavior towards Will as love or romance. It is factually abuse. End of story. If Bryan Fuller wanted this to be canon because he writes the canon he had all the power in the world to make it canon. He failed to do that and all the “Hannigram is canon” tweets in the universe will not change the content of the show or the scripts that he already wrote. That’s not how that works. Let’s look at the plot, just the plot, not speculation or emotion. Just straight up facts of the show as it pertains to Will Graham and Hannibal’s relationship. I’ll go in order as sort of a timeline to make it abundantly clear how bad Hannibal was to Will.

Hannibal messes up Will’s investigation into the Hobbs murders by calling Garret Jacob Hobbs to warn him that the FBI is coming for him. This triggers Hobbs into murdering his wife and attempting to murder Abigail.

Hannibal uses this situation against Will almost immediately because he notices how guilty Will feels about what happened to Abigail so he just makes it worse. On purpose. Using Abigail as a pawn to manipulate Will.

Hannibal recognizes that Will has Encephalitis. Instead of doing literally anything to help him as a friend or doctor, Hannibal lets the disease get worse and worse to use it to his advantage to manipulate Will even further.

Hannibal starts to plant evidence for his eventual crime of framing Will for murder.

Hannibal starts to sew seeds of doubt in the minds of the FBI and Will’s friends so when it finally gets to the end, no one will believe Will when he says he isn’t the copy cat and hasn’t murdered anyone. Hannibal continues to use Will’s undiagnosed condition against him.

This entire time Hannibal has been feeding Will (and several other people) human flesh without their knowledge.

Hannibal is successful with his set up and though Will eventually gets treatment for Encephalitis he ends up being framed for murder and going to prison.

This is just season one, okay? I didn’t even include episode 11 where Hannibal blatantly gaslights Will by telling him no one is there when Will brings Abel Gideon to his house. What exactly, in all of this, denotes anything more than sadistic emotional torture on Hannibal’s part? Where is the love, respect, and care this awesome, romantic, “murder husbands” relationship is about? Even if Hannibal “completely changed” and totally stopped being evil at this point, is this still not bad enough that Will should ever forgive him? Could? Especially after one of the murders Hannibal made Will think he committed was Abigail’s which basically destroyed him? Really? This is your romance? Okay, let’s move on to season two events…at least to the best of my knowledge.

Hannibal pretty much knows the whole time Will is in jail he didn’t do it but does very little of anything to help him, until he hires Matthew Brown to help.

Hannibal moves in on Alana and uses her for sex and an alibi to cover up other crimes that he intends to commit.

Hannibal also somehow has Abigail alive, not that it makes any sense, but the events of season three show he was brainwashing Abigail the entire time so this pertains to Will mostly because of how Will cared for Abigail. It’s straight up disrespectful towards him and his wishes.

Hannibal nearly kills Jack on a rampage during their fight in the kitchen, stabs Will with a linoleum knife, and then to top it all off he slits Abigail’s throat while Will watches as some sort of punishment or revenge.

Okay, so I’m willing to bet if this happened to someone or their friend in real life, at this point people would recognize the reality of the situation, namely being that this isn’t love. This is high level abuse and manipulation. Now, just to be clear, the specific shippers I am talking about are the shippers that insist this is romantic, Hannibal loved, cared for, and respected Will, and literally nothing is wrong with their relationship. I am not against toxic shipping or people shipping people DESPITE the abusive or dark nature of the ship. What I am against are people turning crap like this into romance to justify the ship. Calling this behavior LOVE and not abuse. That’s what I’m against. Ship these assholes all you want but at least admit it’s not healthy. Moving on to season three:

There’s at least one scene with Will panicked and depressed in Hannibal’s kitchen thinking he can’t live without him and not in a good way. This scene denotes massive signs of codependency which, once again, isn’t love. It’s the result of extreme emotional and physical abuse on Hannibal’s part.

Will chases Hannibal all over the world to find him and does but Hannibal attempts to cut his head open and eat his brain. Seems like he would have done it had he not been stopped by whatever deus ex machina plot device happened, think it was Chiyoh but whatever it was, trust me it was bullshit.

Hannibal and Will are brought back to Mason in the states and once again endure a bunch of torture and none of this is anything that would have happened had Hannibal not dragged Will into all of this in the first place.

They eventually escape after Hannibal kills basically everyone and takes Will home. Will tells Hannibal, point blank, he wants nothing to do with him anymore because Hannibal is bad. Very bad. Will openly recognizes this to be the case and states it. Hannibal gets upset and turns himself in just so “Will can always know where to find him” and if you wanna tell me that’s not the trademark of an emotional abuser you don’t know what emotional abuse is.

Will actually goes on to get married and loves his wife. He’s dragged back into working with Hannibal to catch another killer. Will seems to try to avoid bonding or getting near Hannibal at all costs but it’s too late. The codependent bond has already been formed, Hannibal gets into his head again.

Will, recognizing that this is a very bad situation but he’s never going to get away from it, decides to kill both Hannibal and himself instead of living this life of torment he so clearly hates. The end.

Now, if you read all of that and thought “Wow this is a beautiful romance story with loving caring devoted husbands” I got news for you, you’re insane. If you had a friend who went through all of this with a partner, you’d get them away from that partner and never let them go back. You also wouldn’t call it love or caring or anywhere near the sort, except these Hannigram shippers they do. They overly justify this behavior and call it romance. It’s sickening. It’s like they are willing to ignore 90% of the actual events of the show to insist that this ship is canon. It’s not.

Not once in the show did Hannibal and Will kiss. Not once in the show did they say “I love you”. Not once did the show establish they were actually a couple or even gay. Not once was there any factual on screen indication via dialogue or action that showed these two being sexually interested in each other or romantically linked. If these events weren’t shown or stated in the show then their relationship isn’t canon and a tweet doesn’t make it canon. All the Bryan Fuller tweets and fan service in the world can’t make it canon. What the idiot shippers bring up THE MOST is the scene where Will asks Bedelia if Hannibal loves him as if this is “the scene” where Will totally confesses his love to Hannibal. Except, that’s not what it means at all. Here’s what’s actually going on here:

If I think that a person I know has a crush on me, and I ask a friend of theirs “Does so and so love me” what indication does that give about my feelings towards that person? Did you guess none? Asking the simple question “Does X person love me” gives no indication as to how the person asking feels about the person they think loves them. None. Will never actually followed that by saying he loved Hannibal as well, and the “bride” comment the Fannibals site was clearly said in a dark sarcastic way, they remove the context to make it real. When you have to jump through this many hoops to say a ship is canon, then your Goddamn ship isn’t canon. Furthermore, Bedelia was a well established liar, manipulator, and former victim of Hannibal’s. WELL ESTABLISHED. There is literally nothing to say she actually knew what she was talking about or she wasn’t just fucking with Will. None. Because that’s all she did through the entire show was fucking lie and meddle with people, including her own patients which was shown in season three. Bedelia has no credibility on this matter because she was already established as a liar.

I do honestly wonder sometimes if I watched an entirely different show than these people. Alright, so even though I covered this before I will say it again and explain it a bit better this time. This is why Bryan Fuller tweeting “Hannigram is canon” doesn’t make it canon. Casual viewers of the show don’t follow his twitter or interviews. I know dozens of people who watched the show and only did that. Watched it. They didn’t go see what anyone had to say about it. They didn’t stalk Bryan Fuller on twitter. They didn’t read every fucking interview that ever happened. This means that what casual TV viewers saw was an absolutely NON-ROMANTIC NON-CANON relationship between Will and Hannibal. People saw what I listed. People saw abuse, manipulation, emotional anguish and torture. They weren’t cross checking with Fuller’s twitter and interviews to make sure their agenda was being pushed. This means that the only place this is canon is literally in fan fiction in the mind of Fuller and in the minds of the fan girls who believed him. It does not make this canon to the show and it certainly does not make the behavior romantic at all.

Even if, at the end of all this, after all Hannibal had done to Will, they both confessed love to each other why would anyone forgive that? Why would anyone call that romance? Why? When this was clearly a system of abuse designed to brainwash Will into codependency and anyone with two brain cells can see that. Why would you want this to represent “Gay love” why would you think this is good representation for gay couples? Why in the hell do you think this matters so much that a show that is literally about one man with power abusing another man be seen as GAY CANON. Why not choose a better more healthy relationship for your cause? What the fuck is the point of all of this? At the end of the day, Hannigram isn’t canon to the show. Hannigram is and always will be fan fiction. Since any “example” of love or romance anyone can give me boils down to nothing more than actual abuse, torture, and murder I’m going to say that it just doesn’t exist. If you want to WRONGLY BELIEVE that it’s canon you go ahead, but you’re still wrong. Opinions do not change facts no matter how badly they hurt your feelings.

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

I’m writing 300 word ficlets for anyone donating to my top surgery fund via ko-fi or GoFundMe - read more here.

Elevator

Explicit // M/M // Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham // Tags: Prompt Fill, crack, tw: claustrophobia, blow job Prompt fill for @de-san-mo: Hannigram + smut crack in an elevator

Going down...

[ALSO ON AO3]

Will felt Hannibal looming behind him in the elevator. Probably smelling him again, the man did so love to do that… and describe his findings in great detail. Will would have found it annoying if it didn’t sometimes end with Hannibal describing the scent of Will’s own arousal.

They had descended four floors when the elevator suddenly jolted and stopped, a light flashing on the panel to indicate they were stuck between floors.

“Dammit!” Will huffed.

They waited a few moments before Will hit the help button in the panel and it connected immediately.

“Working on it.” The voice was gruff. “Ten minutes.” The line went dead as Will went to protest.

“Will.”

At first Will ignored Hannibal, pressing the button again but no answer came.

“Will!”

Will turned, his frown instantly replaced with concern as he saw the panicked look on Hannibal’s face.

“Hannibal?”

“I… I can’t be in here for ten minutes. Will, I should have told you. I suffer from claustrophobia.”

“Shit, are you okay?” Will placed a gentle hand on his arm.

Hannibal nodded valiantly. “I… Usually I’m fine. Or can distract myself.”

“How? What can I do?”

“I use an oral focus. Sipping coffee, chewing gum. Sucking on a candy.”

“Do you have-”

“No, nothing.” Hannibal lamented, balling his fists in frustration. He looked thoughtful, before his face lit up. “There may be one solution.”

He was about to ask his meaning, when Hannibal began unbuckling Will’s belt and dropped to his knees. Before Will could protest, Hannibal had released his cock and was sucking it to hardness.

“Fuck.” Will muttered, his hands threading through Hannibal’s hair. “Fuuuuuuck.” Will let his head drop back as he moaned. Hannibal took him deep into his throat and the speed at which he hardened left Will lightheaded.

The elevator was quickly filled with his moans and lewd sucking and lip smacking noises as Hannibal worked him. All culminating in one long groan bouncing off the walls as Will spilled hot and fast down Hannibal’s throat.

By the time Will regulated his breathing, Hannibal had tucked him away, refastened his trousers and was stood calmly by his side. It was only a moment before the elevator clunked and began to move once more.

“You’re not claustrophobic, are you?” Will’s question was drawn by the subtle grin on Hannibal’s face.

“Are you complaining?” Hannibal’s grin grew teeth.

Will huffed as the elevator doors chimed and opened. He definitely had no intention of complaining.

[we-are-conjoined]

Hannigram + “I love you’s”

for the lovely @begintoblur. i do enjoy a classic prompt like this one but i don’t get many opportunities to write for these, SO i’m including some headcanons at the end of this fic about what happens afterwards! (it’s also pretty long so i added a read more).

They told themselves that they picked that small, dingy motel because it was quiet and tucked away, and they wouldn’t draw any attention to themselves there - so what if they had to share a room? It was necessary, and only for one night, and they were separate beds, after all.

So what if Will slept better than he had for the past three years that night? It wasn’t because Hannibal’s even breathing wrapped him in folds of comfort like a lullaby. The beds were just particularly comfortable in that particular motel.

Will couldn’t even look at himself after what he’d done, let alone Hannibal. There was no comfort in their truce, no safety - just guaranteed survival. Will had left his family and his whole life behind for the safety of one man; he wasn’t particularly overjoyed about any of it.

He wouldn’t let himself be overjoyed.

As the weeks flew by in ribbons of hospital visits and constant travel, perhaps his bitterness did loosen its hold on his throat just a little bit. Will told himself it was because traveling with reasonably friendly conversation was easier than the absence of it leaving an uncomfortable, gaping hole between him and Hannibal. But he was still guilty and still utterly miserable, of course.

Then they hit their half-year mark, and Will realized that six months together was the longest amount of time they’d spent not at each other’s throats. And that gave him a bit of a tender feeling in his stomach, right along the edge of his scar, that he couldn’t exactly ignore.

In Prague, Hannibal convinced Will to dine at Bellevue - the most expensive restaurant Will had ever set foot in - and attend the opera, saying they needed the fresh air. It was so incredibly dangerous, so very daring in a way that even Hannibal wouldn’t risk so lightly - and yet, Will couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

He only understood when they arrived back at their tiny, second-floor rental and the bell tower nearby struck midnight.

“Hannibal,” Will said slowly, shrugging his evening jacket off very carefully (it was borrowed, after all). “How did you know when my birthday was?”

He’d turned when Hannibal hadn’t answered immediately, readying a reprimand, and stopped dead in his tracks when he’d seen Hannibal’s face. The moon was high in the sky, dangling over the city like one pearly tear, and Hannibal was staring up at it from the single living room window, undoing his cuff links almost pensively. His expression was so wistful, so strikingly gentle, that Will couldn’t bring himself to press any further.

It was after that night that he began to understand, however - he began picking up on it in Hannibal’s every gesture towards him, large or small. Will wasn’t the most emotionally adept person, but he had loved and been loved. He knew what it looked like.

He wanted desperately to assure Hannibal that it was all forgiven, that he would fish the stars from the sky to show that their feelings were mutual - but the voice in the back of his head told him no. 

The voices, more precisely. Jack and Alana and Molly, all murmuring that Will wasn’t entirely corrupt yet, that he still had the choice to return to Baltimore and his old life if he decided to. If Hannibal betrayed him again.

It was a month after Will’s birthday, in Paris, when Hannibal finally spoke the words Will knew he’d kept chained away for so long.

“I don’t intend to force you, Will,” Hannibal said as they observed the lights of the city from their apartment rooftop. “I know you don’t trust me. I’m not entirely sure I trust you. But I do trust myself.”

He turned from the railing and leaned his elbow on it, hands still tucked in his pockets, to face Will’s profile directly. 

Will couldn’t bring himself to meet those gentle amber eyes.

“You are the only man who I’ve ever considered a true friend, and I don’t take that kind of thing lightly - but these feelings are demanding things from you that I know you can never give me. They are not as simple as friendship or trust. You cannot become friends with a whole world, and you are my world. The only one I have ever desired.

“I am in love with you, Will.”

A long, fragile pause ensued, but Hannibal didn’t do so much as breathe. He followed his word - he didn’t force it.

“Don’t stay out too late - we leave early tomorrow. Good night,” he eventually said, and there wasn’t a trace of anger or pain in his voice.

Will let him go with some difficulty, but he knew he needed the time to think. To process the butterflies in his stomach and the police sirens in his head. 

He pulled his jacket closer by the pockets and breathed a long, feathery sigh into the Parisian sky. It looked like cigarette smoke, and he thought of what a relationship with Hannibal might entail. Certainly it would be similar to a cigarette - dangerous, intoxicating, and only capable of pleasure for an infinitesimal moment. It would be a betrayal of everything Will had ever believed, a challenge to his very morality.

Will closed his eyes and relished the cold on his cheeks, the electric, rebellious excitement of staying out alone for just one more moment in a strange, frozen city, as the man he’d clung onto.

When he turned away from the skyline, he imagined he saw the bloodied version of himself that had stabbed and gutted Francis Dolarhyde, so many months ago, beckoning him to accept his becoming at last.

He walked towards the image with placid ease - Hannibal was waiting, just a few steps away. Will was ready, at last, to say the words that had weighed so heavy in his chest for so many years. He finally knew who he was.

Fin.

Headcanons:

I always kind of thought that Will would be as stubborn as a damn mule about admitting his feelings for Hannibal and that he’s just as pathological as Hannibal as well.

They DO NOT leave the next day, as it happens.

The both of them are so enraptured and gooey-eyed that they spend the next day in bed alternating between having ridiculously clever conversations and making out.

Hannibal calls Will “darling” so much it hurts.

Will calls him “Dr. Lecter” a lot because surprise! Good ol’ Graham is a real tease/flirt!!

I could totally see Will coming to accept the cannibalistic lifestyle in the sense that Hannibal does the cooking and Will doesn’t hear about the rest.

Will takes care of anyone on their trail, however - can’t let anyone ruining his and Hanni’s bliss!!

Their relationship is very prosperous, as it turns out, and they’re the cleverest, most cynical, most judgmental, happiest murder husbands you’ve ever seen till the day they die!

[mandysimo13]

Hannigram #22, and 23!! 💜💜💜

Ah, another fantastic murder husbands prompt. As you wish, my darling ^_~

22. “You can scream if you want.”23. “I didn’t know we were keeping track.”

Since this one went so long, I also posted it to AO3 here

A muffled scream made Hannibal grimace. 

“I don’t know why they insist on doing that this early in the game,” he remarked in a bored voice. “It should be fairly obvious we’re underground and in a very well insulated dwelling.”

“He’s frightened, Hannibal. An emotion that you know very acutely, even if you rarely show it to others,” Will explained needlessly. He handed Hannibal his scalpel with a fond smile. 

“But my dear Will,” Hannibal explained, testing the scalpel on a slice of paper. It sliced cleanly and quickly and the bound, gagged, and shirtless man in front of them struggled harder, his eyes widening in terror. The man in question was a Mister Julian Garrick. His crime, spouting homophobic remarks at them while they perused a new butcher shop. Julian Garrick’s butcher shop. Ethical butcher, indeed, Hannibal scoffed internally. “I at least had the good sense to save my energy for an opportune moment to escape. One must never rely on outside forces for rescue.”

He reached out with his free hand to touch Will’s face. “You, of all people, know that quite well.”

Will leaned into the touch, reaching out blindly for his own scalpel. “Says the man who so often came to my rescue.”

“Only after I put you in danger,” Hannibal said, remorse in his voice.

“Hey now,” Will chided softly. He pressed a small kiss to Hannibal’s lips. “None of that now. That’s all behind us.”

He moved from Hannibal’s loose hold and closed the distance between himself and their plaything for the evening. “I believe it’s my turn first, seeing as you went first last time.”

Hannibal smirked and twirled his scalpel in his hand, taking a step toward their victim. “I didn’t know we were keeping track.” He crouched in front of the petrified man and went to undo the gag muffling his pitiful noises. 

“Not exactly keeping track. More, remarking on the back and forth order we’ve developed.” He pointed at Julian and asked, “if they were to find him, what do you think they’d call this killer? Do you think they’d scent us in the aftermath? Send in the bloodhound, Jack Crawford, to come sniffing around our door?”

“Hmm, that is food for thought. Perhaps we can compose an adequate answer once we’ve completed our new work of art.” He directed his next words to Julian, “you can scream if you want to. Doubtless it will be unavoidable, but please, don’t feel the need to stifle yourself on our account. Far be it from us to stifle the creative process as one moves from one stage to another. Metamorphosis, in its own way.”

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” Garrick spat back, spittle dripping from his lips in anger. 

“A very typical response, Mister Garrick,” Will said, crouching low behind him, scaring the man anew by his sudden presence so close to his ear. “That’s the kind of thinking that got you into this situation in the first place. Hannibal isn’t exactly a psychopath. Nor is he a sociopath. He just doesn’t have any inhibitions. He does as he pleases, waiting for the world to unfold and ripple around his actions as they may regardless of consequence. He has empathy, compassion, and feelings. He just doesn’t care about yours.” His voice turned into a low growl as he added, “and seeing as your feelings make you a homophobic fuck, I can’t say I disagree with him at this particular moment.” 

“Such eloquence,” Hannibal teased. 

“Being around you has the tendency to turn one into a poet,” Will remarked shyly. “Perhaps one day I might sound like someone halfway decent.”

“Nonsense,” Hannibal said happily. “I thought that was very well worded, Will.”

Julian, feeling left out, piped up. “Just let me out of here and I won’t say a fucking word! You’ll be free, and so will I! Win, win!”

“I think we have come too far for that, haven’t we Mister Garrick?” Hannibal asked rhetorically. Neither of them had any intention of letting the man go. He looked to Will and said, “you expressed a desire to go first. Please,” he gestured to the expanse of naked skin before Will, “indulge yourself.”

“My pleasure,” Will said with a sincere smile before carefully carving into Garrick’s back.

“Fuck! Stop!” Garrick screamed, struggling to break away from Will’s handiwork. 

Hannibal held him fast and still, giving Will a mostly still canvas in which to paint with his scalpel. “I did not give you permission to move,” he told Garrick coldly. “I only said that you may scream. No more than that.”

And scream, he did, as Will carved the first piece into his skin. The more that Will worked, the more Garrick screamed, even if they became weaker with pained exhaustion. At times Will paused, thinking over carefully the next cuts he would put into his blank canvas. Slowly, agonizingly slowly for Julian Garrick, Will’s piece came to fruition and he nodded to Hannibal that he was finished. He dropped his scalpel on the floor and wiped sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“It’s done. I can’t wait for you to see it,” he told Hannibal with a loving smile.

“I cannot wait to see it,” Hannibal assured him. He looked down at Garrick and frowned. “It seems our guest has rudely passed out. It seems that your work has sent him into shock.” He looked up at Will, “what’s to be done about that?”

Will slapped Garrick’s face a few times until the man sputtered back to life. He groaned weakly and whispered, “puh-please, just,” he wheezed before continuing, “just let me leave.” His eyes watered, crying from pain and fear.

“We’re only halfway done, Mister Garrick. It would be a shame for you to miss the rest of the festivities.” He held up his own scalpel, waggling it in warning, and said, “now don’t move.”

With that, he began carving his own marks into Garrick’s chest. Garrick was too far gone for screaming. Instead, fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he sobbed, begging to be released. 

Will squeezed him tighter, wrenching his head back by his hair. “If you don’t stop blubbering and hyperventilating, you might ruin his design. And if you do that,” he clicked his tongue in annoyance, “well, we’ll just have to devise a punishment. Won’t we, dear?”

“You mean this isn’t punishment enough?!”

“Oh, this is punishment,” Hannibal agreed. “But for just one sin. Damaging art would require something more,” he paused, grinning at Will, “creative.”

Will chuckled and held Garrick still while Hannibal continued to work. Eventually, he passed out again but that was just fine to Hannibal. They had made their point. 

At long last, he added a final flourish and smiled up at Will. “I’m finished.”

Will leaned over, uncaring of how blood smeared his clothes, and kissed Hannibal’s lips sweetly. “Let’s get the buckets. Wash off the excess so we can see what we wrote to each other.”

They stood together, leaving Garrick slumped on his knees, struggling to breathe and fading in and out of consciousness while they retrieved the next part of their design. They each carried a pail full of water over to Mister Garrick and unceremoniously began pouring them over his raw body. 

Immediately he jolted into full wakefulness. He screamed, flailing, trying to stand but unable to on the slippery floor. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Washing away the excess blood so that we might see what we wrote on your skin,” Hannibal explained.

“In what, acid?!” Garrick demanded.

“Nothing so dramatic,” Hannibal said with a smirk. “Only salt water.”

“With the approximate salinity of the Dead Sea.”

Garrick whimpered, hugging his body to try and soothe his pains. His arms were wrenched sharply from his body by Will as he knelt to inspect Hannibal’s words. Hannibal assisted, taking Will’s previous place at Garrick’s back. 

“Shall I read aloud?” Hannibal asked. Without waiting for an answer he began. 

“Hannibal, my unforeseen design. I could have never, in an age, predicted what fate had in store for me in you. I am glad, cuz I would’ve run for the hills for sure. Despite that, thank you for chasing me, reaching back, and being patient with requital. I love you. Will

Hannibal’s eyes misted over and he had to immediately kiss Will, heedless of the man sandwiched between them.

“I take it you liked it,” Will asked needlessly.

“Very much so.” He kissed him once more and said, “now, it is your turn.” 

Will cleared his throat and began to read.

“Will, from the start you have captivated, amused, confused, and aroused me in a million ways. You have buried yourself into my head, heart, the very marrow of my being. May you never unroot yourself, for I find myself very much at peace with you inside and beside me. Aš tave myliu.”

Will beamed and reached over to return Hannibal’s previous kiss. “You’re such a sap.”

“Guilty as charged,” Hannibal agreed.

“Did-” Garrick choked out between them. “Did you faggots just write love letters to each other on me?!” He tried to shove out from between them. “You’re so fucked up! You’re so fucked up!”

Hannibal frowned, letting him squirm away, knowing he wouldn’t get far. “Clearly, you have learned nothing.”

“Still unseeing of our true devotion to each other, even when its written into your skin.” Will caught Hannibal’s gaze with a wry smile. “Though, he’s not entirely wrong. We are a little fucked in the head.”

Hannibal returned his gaze. “Perhaps.” They rose together, slowly following the crawling Mister Garrick as he tried to escape their cellar. “Come now, let’s finish what we started. Then you can walk the dogs while I prepare dinner.”

Will kissed him. “Sounds like a plan.”

Later, after Mister Garrick had been dispatched with and set to curing as a new batch of sausages, after dinner and dog walking, Hannibal and Will laid in bed wrapped in each other’s arms. 

“I think I have an idea of what Jack would call us,” Will said sleepily.

“Is that so?”

Will chuckled, nuzzling into Hannibal’s neck. “The Bloody Scribes.”

Hannibal frowned. “How distasteful. Sounds like something Freddie would cook up.”

Will yawned and nodded in agreement. “She’d love that. A shame she’ll never see it.”

“I blessing, I think you mean,” Hannibal replied. 

After such an emotional day, it didn’t take long for them both to drift off into a blissful sleep, content in each other’s arms. 

[starkaryen]

Heres a daft prompt (i apologise in advance) its Easter, Will and Hanni are exchanging chocolate eggs but they have all melted - whats to be done with the chocolate??? - Sorry Kaz 😊

Hi there!! I set this on s1. I don’t know if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it! Happy Easter! :)

9/? Prompt: Hannigram; Easter set in s1.

“Shit.”

Hannibal turned to him with a neutral expression. Will sighed.

“It wasn’t supposed to- They were fine when I bought them yesterday, I swear. I don’t know what could’ve possibly happened to them.”

“I believe you. Perhaps it was the car’s heater?”

“Maybe…”

Will left the open chocolate egg on the counter, and it immediately lost its rounded shape, melting against the surface.

When Hannibal had invited him to dinner on Easter, Will’s first instinct had been to think that Hannibal was just inviting him to one of his dinner parties out of courtesy. But when he asked what should he bring for the rest of the guests and Hannibal informed him that it would be just the two of them, he had been surprised. Pleasantly so.

Will had been nervous about it, being the first time he was going to dine with Hannibal alone, and he was resolved on being a good guest. And so, the first thing he decided was that he’d buy him chocolate Easter eggs. Now, because nothing exactly happened how Will planned, there were six chocolate eggs ruined.

“It was a very kind gesture either way, Will,” Hannibal told him, and he huffed.

“Well, my kind gesture is now melted against your counter.”

“Perhaps they don’t have to go to waste, after all.”

Will looked up at him, intrigued, and Hannibal gave him a little smile.

“We could salvage as much as we can from the eggs and use the chocolate to make a cake. It’s not the most proper use of Easter eggs, but I’d hate to throw away a perfectly fine chocolate and a beautiful gift just because it’s a bit melted.”

Will looked at the basket with the rest of unopened eggs, and he felt himself blushing a little at the beautiful gift part. He wasn’t sure whether Hannibal was just being nice, but whatever his intentions were, it felt nice.

“Besides,” Hannibal continued, and Will turned to see him go to the fridge, and he returned with a basket much like his own, only slightly bigger, and Will guessed, where the Easter eggs wouldn’t be melted. “I think we had the same idea, so we won’t exactly run out of chocolate Easter eggs.”

Will looked up to Hannibal’s eyes and smiled widely, because this meant he had thought about Will, he had bought Easter eggs specifically for this dinner.

Will nodded at his previous proposal then, and reached out to take one of Hannibal’s chocolate eggs. He unwrapped it, put it in his hand and applied a little pressure until it cracked. He took a small piece, and offered his hand to Hannibal, who took another piece of the egg. They tried it at the same time, and chewed it without taking their eyes off of each other, until Will couldn’t help to grin and look down, a pleasant warmth filling his chest.

“So. A cake, then?” he asked, and Hannibal nodded with a smile.

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