#as seen in hannibal's sketchbook

[artthatremindsmeofhannibalnbc]

Page from Surgical anatomy by Joseph Maclise, 1856

https://cppdigitallibrary.org/collections/show/18

[pyxilz]

When I first watched Hannibal, I skipped the entire second season after watching only 3/4ths of the first

[winterleech]

Is there a fandom for Fresh (2022) does that exist

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Soo ... How about a hannigram where the reader draws and paints too but never showed her drawings to the boys because she thinks they're not good enough, then one day Will accidentally finds them and I decided to show them to hannibal, how do you think they would react ?

!!!!!❤️!!!!!

———

Will found an errant slip of paper sticking out of one of Hannibal’s sketchbooks. Curious, he carefully pulled it out to examine it.

On it, he found a small collection of pencil sketches that seemed to be copies of Hannibal’s work. The lines were unsure and a little messy, but they weren’t bad at all. In fact, they had a surprising amount of detail.

He gently traced them with his fingers, frowning.

“Hannibal?” He called him over.

Hannibal walked over to his side, shutting the book he’d been perusing. “What is it?”

“These aren’t yours, right?”

“No… they’re not,” Hannibal said thoughtfully, inspecting them more closely.

From your spot on the couch, you glanced over at them curiously. When you realized what they were looking at, you were momentarily frozen with dread. Oh no.

You must have forgotten it last time you’d taken his sketchbook to practice. You leapt out of your seat and hurried over.

“Um, well, actually funny story but… that’s mine, yeah,” you said, reaching for it, your face warm.

Will pulled it just out of reach, not wanting to concede it yet. “You didn’t tell us you liked to draw.”

“It’s because I’m kinda new to it… been practicing whenever I can,” you said. “I didn’t want you to see it until I was better at it.”

“I was wondering why I’d seen graphite on your fingers so much lately,” Hannibal said. “I would’ve enjoyed drawing with you, and I could have taught you a couple of things myself.”

“Well, you kind of did. I’ve been using your sketches as reference all along…” you felt your face heat up even more and you covered it with your hands. “God I’m mortified! I should’ve just asked.”

“Aw, come on, give yourself some credit. These aren’t bad,” Will said. “I really think you’re on the right path.”

“It’s not up to par, though…” you muttered, uncovering your face.

Hannibal waved this off. “Who cares about that? What matters is you’re doing it. And besides, my offer to do it with you still stands.”

“And we both know how good a teacher Hannibal is, don’t we?” Will added, a slightly playful edge to his tone.

You smiled a little, feeling less discouraged. “You’re right about that.”

———-

[sonicfanthenightfury5099]

Surprising a Slasher with Soft Serve Ice Cream

I had some Soft Serve today, and I thought about how Horror boys would like Soft Serve, so I decided to write about it

Reader is GN

Characters: Michael Myers(OG, RZ, and Peepaw) Jason Voorhees, The Sinclairs, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Saywer, Corey Cunningham, Brahms Heelshire, Hannibal Lecter (NBC), and John Kramer

CW: Cuteness Overload

Michael Myers

- Went on a Trip to the coast

- Michael was given a "No Killing During Vacation" rule (Michael must behave)

- You told him to wait at a table after eating

- Michael thinking about things to do when getting home

- "Surprise Honey." You said you have Sundae for Dessert

- Michael was definitely surprised

- You remember his favorite flavor, Cookies and Cream

- He definitely loved the surprises

Jason Voorhees

- A Beach trip

- Big guy definitely doesn't want to go swimming without a life jacket

- Walking on the Broad-walk you saw something

- You told him to wait at the spot you both stopped at

- He chilled at the spot while holding the plushie he won at a game

- You walked back with Ice Cream for the both of you.

- Cookie dough is his favorite

- A great treat for the heat

Michael Myers RZ

- A bit of a Trip to a big city with a mall

- No Kill rule is put in place

- Michael is behaving well during the trip

- At a Food court, you told him to wait at the table

- Michael wondered what your doing

- Is that Ice Cream you bringing to the table?

- "I asked for extra candy pieces for yours." You said as you sat down, handing the soft serve to him.

- "Thank you." He said, smiling

- Resse's pieces with cookie bits for your tall man

The Sinclairs

- The 4 of you decided to have a trip to a Mall a few hours away from Ambrose

- Definitely a new thing for Vincent and Lester to check out (Not new for Bo)

- You ask Lester to help you with something as the Twin sat at a table

- Bo tried to do his usual flirting with ladies passing by while Vincent was sketching in his little Sketchbook on the table

- Sweet Treat placed in front of both of them

- Soft Serve Sundaes

- Definitely a good treat

- Carmel on Vincent's while Bo's has mixed Berries and Lester having a simple vanilla cone

Thomas Hewitt

- A Trip to Houston just you and Tommy

- The Hot Texas heat is unbearable when entering the city

- You decide in something to help with the heat

- 2 Vanilla Cones, please

- Thomas loves the cold treat to beat the Texas Heat

Bubba Saywer

- Texas is Hot 24/7 in the Summer

- You decide to get something to beat the heat

- Ice and something Sweet

- Bubba Squealed when you showed him a Tub of Rocky Road Ice cream

- It's partly melted, but being creative. You mixed it with in the ice to make it like Soft Serve

- A Big cool down for the Summer heat

Peepaw Michael Myers

- A Road trip to the ocean

- Michael has never seen the Oceah in person (Figure you give him a chance before he get sick)

- He was Given the No Killing Rule (Insert Old Man Grunt)

- A Sight for the 61yo Michael to see the great Wide Blue Sea

- You told him to stay in the spot (he's not going to, his eyes are focused on the ocean)

- You came back with some Soft Serve for the both of you

- Enjoying ice cream and watching the waves

Corey Cunningham

- A well-deserved vacation out of Haddonfield

- You decide to surprise him when you get to your destination

- A Mall day

- You decide to get something for the both of them

- Surprise, I got you Ice cream my Dear

- Chocolate Soft Serve for Corey, his favorite

- Best Time Away from Haddonfield

Brahms Heelshire

- You decide to make something for Brahms

- Needing the ingredients to make

- Brahms wondered what your making

- Home-made Soft Serve Ice Cream

- Brahms never had Soft Serve before, so this is definitely a Treat for him to try

Hannibal Lecter

- You always told him that you love Soft Serve Ice Cream

- Him being a cook, he knows how to make something like that

- Hannibal Surprise you with homemade Vanilla Bean Ice cream

- It has the Soft Serve you love to have

John Kramer

Click here for Drawing

- Figured to cheer up him

- Going to his workplace with your surprise

- He definitely loved the surprise

- Strawberry sauce on Vanilla soft serve, you remembered so well

Click here for drawing

[hannxgram-headcannons]

Moments with my Hannibal Kinnie Bf that altered my brain chemistry when I made him watch Hannibal for the first time

- Seeing him say “if I were Hannibal…” and knowing what he said he’d do is EXACTLY what Hannibal did next

- Catching him late one night googling “Plastic Suit” into Google images and taking notes

- hearing him say the words “I am so deeply disappointed in Will for this” when he saw Freddie alive

- Him making me pause the show so many goddamn times in season three to rant about Italy to me…particularly statues he wish he’d gotten to see more of when he visited

- seeing him frantically whip out a sketchbook of his from like four years ago and showing me a sketch of the EXACT section of the primavera?? Is that the painting Hannibal was drawing in the show of the lady and the man?? Idk but I shit you not I about lost my mind

- him leaving mid opening scene of season three only to come back in with Hannibal’s exact leather jacket from the motorcycle scene

- listening to him explain Hannibal’s thought process at any point of the show my favorite time being when he explained dating Alana “He (Hannibal) wanted Will to Picture him in a sexual nature I believe….” Blah blah blah but it makes sense

- seeing him totally on the edge of his seat just LOVING all the bloody gore and shit but watching him have to physically hide his face in his hands when the dragon ate that painting telling me “Of all the things I’ve seen in this show that is by far the worst scene” literally ranting for ages about poisoning paints and paper…fuckin priceless art value and whatnot as if we didn’t just see all the fucked up shit we saw

- listening to him NONSTOP the ENTIRE FUCKIN SHOW talk about how bad he wanted Will to either kill one of the killers or fight Hannibal

- *obvious boners from Will being mean to Hannibal*

- going to look up something on his computer and seeing his last search being quote “Hugh Dancy Other movies”

- Laughiig with him when Hannibal got shot because he said “if he heals from that wound he would be able to digest red meat for some time”

- having to explain to him what fanfiction is when we watched an interview with Mads

- hearing him practically moan when Will looked up at Hannibal when they killed the dragon like the man had a small orgasm I swear I fuckin SWEAR

- Hearinf him nonstop talk about Will Graham ALL THE FUCKING TIME LIKE NONSTOP I AM SO TIRED OF HEARJNF ABOUT HIM

- Showinf me his one Spotify playlist after the finally when he told me and I quote “Is the song playing currently a Sioux and the Banshees song?” Like I had a fuckin clue but apparently he used to listen to it all the time and told me “All those years of it’s chorus hitting my eardrums and now I feel it’s tune has an entirely new meaning”

- Him coming to me later one night and telling me he wished there was more and that he was tryin to setup an A03 account

[unorthodox-chef]

020, standing in front of a painting at a museum. - mischa.

It’s a common misconception that a museum is a quiet place. Usually, it is not. Groups of students and schoolchildren, tourists with their modern cameras ready to catch the place they are in but not the essence of it, couples holding hands... they all make that low hum, the ever-annoying noise of a fly trying to escape the room and always meeting an invisible obstacle of a window.

A family of four was rushing to the gift shop, and an elder man was sketching at the very entrance, totally oblivious or pretending to be as such to people staring at him, old and bold, grasping his sketchbook and pencil as if his life depended on it. BMA was living its everyday life.

“Everyone is rushing to see Picasso,” Hannibal’s voice was low and quiet enough to be considered intimate. “And yet they are missing the treasure.”

They were standing in front of Paul Cézanne’s “Mont Sainte-Victoire Seen from the Bibémus Quarry”, and were silent for 10 full minutes before Hannibal chose to break the silence.

“I am grateful you insisted on displaying this one. I love Cézanne. He’s full of hope.”

@eatenlives

[chronic-monachopsis]

Tumblr user Colefir I hope you don't mind but I have compiled a list for you <3 I'm keeping it under the cut so it's easy to copy and paste into Spotify !

A Deer Mistaking Candles for Headlights

I Am In Great Pain, Please Help Me

Cool Knife Bro

Pope Alexander

Thinking About a Potentially Awkward Interaction with an Old Friend

Little Creepy

The Only Way I Could Save Myself Now Is If I Start Firebombing

Fun anecdote about meeting Crywank for the third time>> When I was in the pub, getting a drink bwfore the show, Jay and Dan remembered and stopped me to ask if I had been making more art! (I was FREAKED) and because they signed my sketchbook, they have officially seen my Hannibal fanart in the process, which is as equally embarrassing as it is hilarious

The other times I've met them, they've always been so up for a chat! After the show Jay and Dan were chatting for ages, it was wild. Jay tried giving me a hug and I completely fell off the barstool and on top of them and their broken shoulder.. and then on the floor. felt so embarrassed 😭😭 its grand tho cuz they got a joint of me

Them: you better not be poorly drawn Will Graham in a Crywank t-shirt when i get there

My Crazy Ass:

[darling-i-read-it]

Dolce

3x06

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, blood, drugs  

Author’s Note: I don’t want to leave Florence :( but i do be missing the dogs 

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

Official Episode Summary: Jack seriously doubts Will's loyalties as the two renew their alliance. Mason Verger plots Hannibal Lecter's capture, while Lecter plans for his final stand.

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

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

(not my gif) 

all gifs @/rocktheholygrail

Hannibal sat in the bathtub. His head leaned against the side of it. Bedelia sat beside him. She wrung a sponge over his broken, beaten and cut body. Hannibal's eyes landed on hers and his pain saw you, wishing that you were there. He had been waiting for you and Will to arrive, wishing that it was going to happen. He wanted it to be you cleaning his wounds. 

He needed it to be you cleaning his wounds.

His wish to have you come with him in the first place that was so strained he didn’t even realize the severity of it until just that moment. In pain, bleeding, sensing the end of something.

-

Jack Crawford looked at the dead body of Pazzi. It was being carted off by the police, the duck tape still pressed onto his face. Jack was tired. He had gotten a few scratches from his fight with Hannibal but none as severe as Hannibal’s. 

Will walked up to Jack. Jack saw him out of the corner of his eye and situated himself toward his former colleague. 

“He’s wounded and worried.” You emerged from the crowd behind Will and gave Jack a simple look. Both of you were scratched up. Dried blood covered Will’s forehead and there was a scratch on your cheek. You both clearly had been through something but Jack had not time to ask. 

“Hannibal doesn’t worry. Knowing he’s in danger won’t rattle him any more than killing does,” Will said. The three of you looked into the Atrocious Torture Exhbiit, the place where Hannnibal and Jack had fought it out. 

“If Rinaldo Pazzi decided to do his duty as an officer of the law, he could have detained Dr. Fell and determined very quickly that he was Hannibal Lecter. Would have taken thirty minutes to get a warrant,” Jack said solemnly. 

“All those resources were denied to Pazzi. Once he decided to sell Hannibal, he became a bounty hunter,” Will stated. You scoffed.

“Serves him right. Mason Verger is trying to capture Hannibal himself for purposes of personal revenge. I've often wanted to use my own resources to drop him in his pig's den,” you muttered. 

“Have you told la polizia they’re looking for Hannibal Lecter?” Will asked Jack.

“They’re motivated to find Dr. Fell inside the law. Knowing who he is..and what he’s worth, will just coax them out of bounds.” 

“It would be a free-for-all,” Will pointed out. 

“And Hannibal would slip away.” Jack paused. Both you and Will were facing opposite directions, looking at different artifacts. “Would you slip away with him?” 

You and Will shared a look. 

“Part of me will always want to,” Wil said. 

“You have to cut that part out,” Jack argued. 

“You aren’t FBI anymore Jack. You can’t tell either of us what to do,” you sneered. You believed that. Jack had no bearings over your feelings for Hannibal. You were annoyed he thought he had any. 

“So you’ll go with him to jail?” Jack asked. You faced him completely. 

“If I had come with him to Florence he wouldn’t be going to jail.”

“And that’s what you want?” Jack challenged. You stepped forward to him.

“I hate to see you win Jack.”

“You had him. He was beaten. Why didn’t you kill him?” Will asked, stepping in. Jack, eyes still on you, considered it.

“Maybe I need you to.” 

-

Hannibal looked out the window. He was wearing a cozy sweater, cuddling into it for the last glimpse of hope he may get before a cage. He sketched into his book. Memories of Florence. 

“I want to be able to draw these streets from memory. I want to be able to draw the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo,” Hannibal said whimsically. Bedelia approached him and took the book from his hand.

“You won’t be coming back here for a very long time,” she whispered.

“Memories of Florence will be all I have. Florence is where I became a man. I see my end in my beginning.” 

“All of our endings can be found in our beginnings. History repeats itself and we can’t escape it,” Bedelia stated, turning into the home. Hannibal glanced at the small suitcase. Hsi coat was draped over it. 

“You packed lightly,” he stated. 

“I packed for you.” She paused a moment and off his questioning look, moved forward. “This is where I leave you. Or more accurately, where you leave me.”

Hannibal nodded slowly. His eyes scanned from the suitcase to her eyes. In essence he was aware he was giving up his Florence hope of you and him. He was aware that he was saying goodbye to Bedelia and also your alternate self. 

In hopes to see you again, perhaps for real this time.

-

Bedelia put a needle carefully on her table. She saw the face of Chiyoh in the back of her mirror and turned around simply, confused at her presence. 

“You must be looking for Hannibal Lecter. One of his patients?” she questioned. 

“No, not a patient. Where is he?” Chiyoh asked. Her gun was in her hand delicately. It looked like it weighed a feather. 

“Gone. Seeing how you let yourself in, I hope it’s not too forward to ask, who the hell are you?”

“Family,” Chiyoh landed on. 

“Ah. You’ve come a long way from home,” Bedelia pointed out. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m his psychiatrist.” Chiyoh glanced at the ampoule and needle. Bedelia shrugged.

“Medicinal purposes.” Chiyoh studied her further, her eyes narrowed. 

“You’re like his bird. I’m his bird, too. I met another one, on the train ride here. He puts us in cages to see what we’ll do.”

“Fly away or dash ourselves dead against the bars,” Bedelia suggested. 

“You haven’t flown away.” 

-

Hannibal Lecter looked between the Primavera and his sketchbook. He was drawing it for the thousandth time but this time, in place of the garlanded nymph was your face. In place of pale zephyrus was Will.

Over Hannibal’s shoulder, Will walked into the room. Slowly, the suit that he was wearing suddenly seeming so stuffy. Will’s eyes landed on Hannibal for the first time since Hannibal gutted him. Both men battered and bruised. 

He moved forward and gently laid a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal looked up at Will and smiled, pleased to see him. Will sat down beside Hannibal and for a moment they both absorbed the moment.

“Good to see you,” Will said.

“If I saw you everyday forever, Will, I would remember this time,” Hannibal said as he stared at the man that he loved. They stared at each other for a moment and Will’s smile seemed the brightest thing Hannibal had seen in so long.

“Strange to see you in front of me. Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven’t been in years,” Will stated.

“To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig,” Hannibal said lightly.

“I looked up at the night sky there. Orion above the horizon and, near it, Jupiter. I wondered if you could see it, too. She wondered if our stars were the same.”

She. 

You. “I believe some of our stars will always be the same. You entered the foyer of my mind and stumbled down the hall of my beginnings.” 

“I wanted to understand you before I laid eyes on you again. I needed it to be clear what I was seeing,” Will explained. 

“Where does difference between the past and the future come from?” Hannibal questioned. 

“Mine? Before you and after you.” He paused. “Yours? It’s all starting to blur. Mischa. Abigail. Chiyoh.” 

“How is Chiyoh?” 

Between both boys shoulders, you emerged. You were wearing a gorgeous dress that you usually wouldn’t have pulled out. You bought it here in Florence. It reminded you of Hannibal. Plus your other clothes were bloodied. You looked just as battered and bruised as they did. 

You all pulled it off with a regal amount of elegance. 

“She pushed us off a train,” you said. Hannibal turned around to see you. The first time you had laid eyes on each other since you had kissed. It was interesting for Hannibal now. He had to double check that Will had heard you too. 

“Atta girl.”

“Ah, it hurt,” you said. You walked around the bench and sat between them. They allowed you enough room. You looked at Hannibal and smiled. He smiled back at you. 

“We have begun to blur,” Will said after a moment more of absorbing.

“Isn’t that how you found me?” Hannibal questioned.

“Even as the possibility of free will dissipates, my experience of it remains the same. I continue to feel and act as though I have it.”

You looked over at Will and then back at Hannibal. You placed your hands on your lap.

“Why did you let Bedelia live?” you asked. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I figured she had been long dead, gone through and out of your digestive system at this point. There should not have been an ounce of her left so imagine my surprise when I see her completely alive. Confused and lying, but alive.” Hannibal looked into your eyes and you understood.

“I think you know why.”

You held your gaze and then had to leave it in fear of getting emotional.

“Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail’s murder, but every murder streching backward and forward in time,” Will said after a moment. 

“Then what’s left to do? Freeing yourself from me and me freeing myself from you, they’re the same. No longer seeing you in people who aren’t you Y/N. You are part of his equation just as much as Will and I.” 

You smiled solemnly.

“We’re conjoined. Curious if any of us can survive separation,” you mused. 

“Now’s the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from thinking.” Hannibal stood up and gestured for you to take his hand. “Shall we?” You took it and stood. Will’s hand was already interlaced between yours, something you did subconsciously when you sat down. 

You all stood.

“After you,” Will muttered. 

Together the three of you left the gallery. Worse for wear but something blossomed in your hearts, something that only the other two could bring out. You had walked only a few steps before Will was shot to the ground.

-

Hannibal held Will close to him, trying to get him into the chair. You stood beside him, helping him take his jacket off. Will winced and fell forward, his chin on your shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. Will’s shirt was soaked with blood. It was dripping down his arm from where the bullet wound entered. 

“The bullet is still inside you. This will hurt.” Hannibal took the jacket all the way off and Will watched as Hannibal cut off his shirt. The three of you hadn’t been this close since you were last covered in Will’s blood.

“Chiyoh’s always been very protective of me,” Hannibal said as he looked into the wound.

“Tell her to back the hell off,” you sneered.

“Did she kill her tenant or did you?”

“She did,” Will choked out.

“Excellent.” Hannibal took Will’s knife you didn’t know he had with him, back into his limp hand. “You dropped your forgiveness, Will.” You stared at the blade, bloodied. You caught Will’s eyes. He hadn’t told you he had brought a weapon. “You forgive how God forgives. Would you have done it quickly, or would you have stopped to gloat?” 

“Will?” you whispered.

“Does God gloat?” Will asked.

“Often,” Hannibal answered.

Hannibal moved a sharp needle into Will before you even noticed he had it. Will dropped the blade into Hannibal’s waiting hand. Will passed out. 

Your mouth hung open as your gaze held the knife. You still had your hand putting pressure into Will’s wound but it loosened. 

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, looking up at Hannibal.

“I know,” Hannibal responded. “You wouldn’t have done it anyway. I’m going to dress his wound and get the bullet out. Would you mind waiting in the kitchen? Dinner is almost ready.” 

You were so stunned that you stood up. You felt the pull of needing to be by Will but wondered what he would have done to Hannibal. Would you have gone with it? 

Chiyoh was right.

You were not the kind of girl who followed a man's lead.

You grabbed Hannibal’s shoulder and pulled him up.

“Why are you staying?” 

“Why didn’t you come with me?” 

You stared at each other. 

“I love Will.” 

“The Bloody Valentines.” You scoffed and took the knife from Hannibal’s hands. You threw it off to the side. 

“Will is drugged.” 

“Are you going to drug me Hannibal?” You stared at each other and he kissed you feverishly, the way he had wanted to since you kissed him last. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life. You hadn’t touched him in so long. 

You pulled away after a moment. 

“I wanted to go,” you whispered. “I regretted now going.” You pulled away and stepped back. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Please fix Will.” 

-

Will’s eyes fluttered open. Hannibal walked into the dining room with a large bowl in his hands. Will had a dish set out in front of him.

“I do not indulge much in regret, but I am sorry to be leaving Italy. There were things in the Palazzo Capponi I would have liked to read,” Hannibal admitted. In from the kitchen came you, holding a different dish. You placed it on the table.

A last dodge attempt at normalcy. 

“I would have liked to play the clavier and perhaps compose. I might have cooked for the Widow Pazzi, when she overcame her grief. I would have liked to show you both Florence.” 

You sat down beside Will and spoon fed him some soup. He looked over at you, confused, doped up.

“The soup isn’t very good,” he slurred.

“It’s a parsley-and-thyme infusion, and more for my sake than yours. Have another sip, let it circulate,” Hannibal explained. Will took another spoon from you. Will and you finally noticed the final place setting at the end of the table. 

“Are we expecting company?” 

-

Hannibal grabbed your arm tightly and stood you up. 

“It will be Jack,” he told you.

You glanced at Will, out of his mind and slowly losing sight. Hannibal was giving you the invitation you had wanted since Jack stepped into Will’s classroom to talk about Garret Jacob Hobbs. 

-

Jack opened the door to Pazzi’s home. He had his gun held up high as he looked around every corner before he stepped forward. Eventually, Will at the end of the table came into view.

He walked forward and up to Will who blinked, focused on Jack and took a deep breath.

“Hannibal’s under the table, Jack,” Will muttered. Before Jack could react you had grabbed him from behind and a blade slashed Jack’s achilles heel. 

Jack dropped hard.

Hannibal turned to you and his gaze softened. 

“You will not join me in prison,” he whispered. Your eyebrows furrowed. He grabbed your arm and shoved a needle into your side. You let out a small, betrayed sigh and passed out.

-

Jack came to and found himself seated opposite Will. 

“I’ve taken the liberty of giving you something to help you relax. Won’t be able to do much more than chew, but that’s all you’ll need to do. I didn’t have an opportunity to ask you during our last encounter, but did you enjoy the exhibition? A different kind of evil minds museum,” Hannibal said to Jack.

“Not so different,” Jack retored. He noticed you were gone from the room. 

“The promoters are failed taxidermists who formerly got along by eating offal from the trophies they mounted things that bring people together.”

“We were supposed to sit down together back in Baltimore...the three of us. And Y/N.” 

“You were to be the guest of honor,” Hannibal said, ignoring the mention of your name. Hannibal poured himself a glass of wine and took a leisurely sip.

“Where…” Will started but he didn’t finish. 

“Jack was the first to suggest getting inside your head,” Hannibal said. “Now be both have the opportunity to chew quite literally what we’ve only chewed figuratively.” 

Hannibal held a bone saw in his hands. Jack suddenly realized what was going on. For a moment, all Jack could think about was what you would say if you were in the room. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” 

Blood trickled down Will’s head despite his protests.

3x07

[10kiaoi]

A special to kick off Villain Day. ;D

And for the 007 Fest Anon prompt:  Hannibal 00q AU

Notes: Unbetaed as always. Canon typical violence. It’s a Hannibal AU- mentions of murder and stuff, no blood. Art of a tableau under cut. 

His guest is running late, table placement set yet seat left empty. It’s an unforgivable rudeness to be left wondering if he’s been stood up after all, he’s rather miffed about it in all honesty. 

There are no messages or missed calls left on his cell. 

Accepting the offer of a wine list, he picks one that won’t demolish his palate entirely before the meal even begins. He’s determined to make the best of the outing- it hasn’t been easy getting a reservation at this particular establishment.  

He considers the likelihood of his guest meeting an unfortunate fate- the tube breaking down, an accident on the road, perhaps a regrettable mugging. Even a last minute call to duty by Scotland Yard.    

Distress is an unusual affliction; he finds himself loathing the depth of it.  

The yelling starts out small, an indignant exclamation that quickly morphs into uncontrolled outrage.

He wonders how such a beast has been allowed to step foot into the restaurant at all.

Such rowdiness isn’t his purview and given the establishment, staff will no doubt be along soon enough to see to it. No reason to ruin a perfectly good night with such uncouth displays despite an overwhelming desire to put the table knife to good use.  

A quick glance at the reflection in a fortuitously placed wine glass stretches his patience to its ends. It’s endurance of the highest magnitude that prevents him from acting rashly.  

The maître d' goes waltzing past his table briskly and he takes a moment to spare the courteous and hardworking man a sympathetic glance.  

----

“They found a tableau.”

The young man slides smoothly onto the bench next to him. He pauses, his graphite study momentarily losing all draw. The pencil is all too heavy in his hand though its point is pathetically dulled by use. 

As far as he can tell, Q has come completely unarmed. 

He obediently passes both sketchbook and graphite pencil over when Q motions for them. 

“It was quite the dreadful scene down at the docks. You can’t imagine the chaos when the Mister and Missus of the vessel turned up after getting the call,” Q states glibly. 

Amusingly, Q starts correcting his study. A shade darker here, a warped line there. Slowly, the warship starts looking less like a jumble of scribbles and more like a black and white photograph. 

The stern comes into sharp focus, then the masts and hull. Finally, Q etches out the bow, paying loving attention to the bowsprit.

His eyes follow the pencil strokes, enthralled by the graceful movements.

“They were utterly infuriated- poor Missus fainted right on the spot. I dare say the vessel won’t be in their hands much longer, not with a Double Oh having graced its decks,” Q continues.   

He tilts his head in askance. 

Q remains silent for a moment, gaze distant.

He wonders what Q is reliving that very moment when it’s clear his mind is no longer here, in the museum where his physical self sits. 

Finally, Q whispers with no small amount of trepidation, “I think it was Seven making a statement.” 

----

“A figurehead?” he queries later in the privacy of his office, reaching for a bottle of Merlot.  

Q nods. “Why,” Q gripes, “why a trust fund baby with his hands in several of the biggest rental agencies with exorbitant rental rates at that -” He cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, sprawling messily over the sofa. 

He pours two glasses, offers one to Q who accepts it gratefully. 

“It’s just, he was a toff and a powerful one too, offshore accounts would do that- hardly worth the effort and risk of capture,” Q mumbles, biting his lip, “it’s not pathological to Seven- what has he got to gain?”

“Besides satisfaction from the act of killing?”

The look Q shoots him is particularly venomous. He hides his smile behind his glass.  

Back in his own sofa seat, he drinks in the view before him. Of an aggravated young man, wonderfully brilliant and oh so enticing. Marvels at Q’s state of mind- how desperate he is to understand, to see, to empathise.  

All it takes is a little nudge and he’s perfectly posed to help Q come unto a higher comprehension.

He sets his glass on a side table, leaning forward on his sofa. It earns him Q’s full focus, hazel eyes eyeing his motion attentively as if he has answers to all of Q’s questions. 

It’s more than a little intoxicating to be the one person Q looks to in his time of need. 

“The people of the past used to dedicate many hours to carve figureheads out of solid wood,” he offers, “They believed the figureheads were powerful symbols of protection that would guide their vessels through treacherous seas.”   

“Seven believed… The benefits outweigh the risks?” Q ventures uncertainly, brows furrowing in deep thought. “The tableau was left there for us to find...” 

“A message,” he interprets, blood rushing with anticipation, “think Q, use that big brain of yours. What is the tableau saying?”

“It was meant to be found, to be seen, be celebrated.” Q lunges up from his seat, pacing anxiously between the window and the sofas. “He’s absolutely elated, he’s found something, no, someone- a safe harbour.” 

His eyes follow Q’s frantic pacing around the room. Close, so close- 

“Chester’s slaughter was just the cherry on top- well deserved for his injustice against society by not paying his dues. It’s justice wrapped up in a nice little package, like a message in a bottle-” Q grinds to a halt in the middle of the room.  

“Oh, oh, ” Q flushes, eyes impossibly wide, “It’s a declaration of courtship.”  

He eyes the way Q’s tongue pops out to wet his lips, throat working through several false starts. He savours the flash of realisation in those lovely irises, even as he sits primed to react. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, if not the delivery,” Q breathes wryly.

----

Q slides into the unoccupied seat at the table with an aggravated sigh, having finally escaped the poorly behaved fellow diner. 

The plain little business card he hands over slips into the depths of Bond’s suit jacket, with the other diners none the wiser.    

“He thought I was a waiter and took offence at my refusal to serve him.,” Q grumbles when he looks at him in askance, “I could feel your distaste a mile away.”  

He smiles, absurdly pleased by his partner’s consideration.

[god-amongmen]

Under Your Spell, I Become The Beast

@sleepingawake

Art had always been one of Hannibal’s major interests. During his first studies in France his interest had been focused on purely anatomical sketches, but soon he had discovered a certain talent for it and more often than not he found himself in a park, studying faces and sketching. His interest had spiked as he found himself in beautiful Florence, a city so rich of art and history, the works of Botticelli on display. It had inspired Hannibal to move to the study of the living human body, trying to capture the tender curves of skin.

Over the years he continued to sketch, a great pastime and hobby after a particularly boring day with patients. After dinner Hannibal would simply sit in his study, a piece of classical music softly playing in the background, a glass of fine wine or port by his side and a sketchbook in front of him. There was never a lack of muses in his mind, but he had found himself without much inspiration recently.

As a psychiatrist Hannibal knows the effects that this time of year has on humans. The short period of daylight, often grey with heavy clouds; the biting cold and bleakness of it all after the colourful spectacle that autumn always brings. He has never felt affected by it, keeps his house and office pleasantly warm with a fire in the fireplace and his thoughts focused on work. But this year it seems his muse has left him on the last sunny autumn day they had, a few weeks before.

Which has led Hannibal to contact an old acquaintance of his at the local university. His social network spans wide, his name and presence present in many of the high society of Baltimore. Anthony Dimmond is among his own closer-knit circles, a frequent guest at one of his dinner parties, an art lover much like Hannibal himself. When he told the man of his lack of inspiration the young brunette had offered him the possibility to attend one of the many life drawing classes he organises for the art students. Has given Hannibal a timetable with dates, the topic of the class and the name of the models he has invited.

Hannibal had thanked Anthony and promised that he would look into his schedule to see when he might have the time to attend one of the classes. It had taken another few days until Hannibal finally had time in the afternoon to make his way to the university once again. His schedule in the afternoon and evenings was usually full, many of his patients working themselves and only finding time in the later hours of the day to attend to their psychological health.

Traffic had been kind to him today and Hannibal finds himself right on time as he exits his car, immediately pulling up the collar of his coat to keep the cold from assaulting his neck. The evenings quickly becoming colder now and the air smells crisp and clean, the first snow would surely hit the city soon. Grabbing his leather office bag in which his sketchbook, pencils and scalpels are safely stored he locks his car and makes his way to the entrance of the building the class is held in.

When he enters the room the two handful of people present already raise their heads, curiosity obvious in their faces. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen”, he announces to the room, walking towards one of the last remaining empty chairs, putting down his bag and shrugging out of his coat, placing it carefully over the back of the chair. The model was nowhere to be seen, the spot in the middle of the room not yet occupied and it seems their teacher wasn’t here yet either. “I am merely a guest here today, please, do not let my presence disturb your work. Mister Dimmond has been so gracious as to allow me to try and find my muse in one of your classes”, Hannibal explains when he feels the eyes of a few of the students still on him.

His words seem to be enough to break their stupor and they politely avert their gaze, just as a man enters the room, dressed in a simple suit and Hannibal assumes it must be the teacher of the class, because he smiles at each of the students. Next to him stands a young man only clad in a simple robe, likely their model for the afternoon. Hannibal remembers the name ‘Will Graham’ written on the details of today’s lesson, the topic has slipped his mind since it was not of importance to Hannibal, he does remember the bolded “NUDE” that was noted next to it.

The young man, Will, makes his way towards the centre of the room, shrugging out of the robe and folding it, setting it down next to the boxes which have been draped with a sheet of dark red velvet. “Please, Will, just like we discussed”, the man who entered with him hums, and Will nods, moving his body to settle in a position which was surely of importance to the topic of the lesson, much less so for Hannibal.

He finds himself taking in the beauty of the man in front of him, his lean body and gentle flex of powerful muscles under pale skin. The light dusting of hair on his chest, the dusting of hair that forms a trail down to his cock and the neatly trimmed beard. Finally, Hannibal lifts his gaze to Will’s face, beautifully framed by a halo of dark brown curls and a set of gorgeous ocean blue eyes. At the sound of rustling, Hannibal averts his gaze, watching as the students begin to prepare their materials and Hannibal follows suit, pulling out his sketch book and pencils, laying them out on a small table near his chair. Surprised by his own eagerness to begin sketching, his mind almost wild with the many things he wishes to commit to paper.

Hannibal takes in a deep breath, closes his eyes and when he opens them after several long moments, he begins to let his pencil ghost over the paper, beginning to sketch the rough shape of Will’s head. Time is usually something Hannibal is acutely aware off but when Will suddenly shift, moves off the crates and reaches for the robe, Hannibal finds himself blinking, the students around them already in the middle of packing away their supplies. It has been quite some time since he had last been so lost in his own drawing that time simply slipped away from him.

Hannibal slowly closes his sketchbook and puts it away together with his own supplies and rises from his chair just as Will is about to leave the room, grabbing his bag and slinging his coat over his arm. “Mister Graham, Will, if I may?”, he speaks once he is close enough to the younger man so that he does not have to raise his voice to get his attention. “Excuse me for my poor manners, approaching you in such a way. I-...”, Hannibal continues, frowning when he finds himself at a loss for words, another thing that usually does not happen in his life. Interesting.

“I find myself quite captured, inspired, by you. Which has been exactly why I first contacted Mister Dimmond, as I find myself at a lack of inspiration...or a muse as one may call it. I believe I have found it now”, Hannibal explains, a gentle smile on his lips as he watches Will’s face once again, it had already held all his focus during the lesson, his sketchbook filled by many attempts to get the tousled locks just right or the beautiful shine of his eyes. “I know nothing of your schedule or what you do when you are not modelling for the art students, but I wonder if you might be interested in modelling for me?”

[artthatremindsmeofhannibalnbc]

Page from Surgical anatomy by Joseph Maclise, 1856

https://cppdigitallibrary.org/collections/show/18

[slashyrogue]

“Did you put mistletoe up in the kitchen?” 

Hannibal looked up from his sketchpad. “No, of course not. Why would I do something so inane and childish?” 

Will sighed. “I’m not gonna be mad if you did.” 

“Will, I assure you…” 

He held up the mistletoe. “I found this in the archway. You know mistletoe is dangerous for dogs. If it had fallen and Cephie ate it she could’ve been seriously sick.” 

“I did not put up anything,” Hannibal murmured, going back to his sketchbook, “And if I had, I certainly would not have put it in the kitchen.” 

Will frowned. “I’m not mad that you did.” 

“If you are so afraid to express your feelings for me that it makes you more comfortable to accuse me of the offense….” 

He stomped across the room and tossed the mistletoe down on Hannibal’s desk. 

“When have I ever said I was afraid?” 

Hannibal didn’t look up and continued to sketch. “We sleep in the same bed, have sexual intercourse only under the cover of darkness, and you have not once given me any indication in the years we’ve been companions that things will change. I, of course, am a slave to my unrelenting desire and love for you so I will allow you to treat me like a dirty secret even if it’s to yourself.” 

His stomach clenched. “I….” 

He froze when Hannibal lifted the sketchbook up and showed him the drawing he’d been working on. The way Will was depicted made him blush and feel oddly flattered. 

“As I have no memory of seeing you in such a state I have spent my time imagining it. I have felt the touch of your lips, skin, and tongue yet never seen you experience mine.” 

“Hannibal….” 

Hannibal grabbed hold of the mistletoe and held it above his head. “Can you honestly say you don’t want to see me too?” 

Will’s hand shook as he lay it on the desk, and very slowly he moved his fingers to touch Hannibal’s. His fear made him pause though Hannibal moved to entwine their fingers together. 

“I didn’t put the mistletoe up in the kitchen,” he whispered, tears in his eyes. 

Hannibal stood and the closeness of him made Will shiver. 

“I know,” he whispered, leaning in, “I did.” 

Will kissed him hard, smashing their mouths together, and as pieces of clothes fell to the floor, he could hardly stop the tears that fell down his face. Hannibal eagerly tasted them, licking his cheeks, and followed the path down every inch of his skin. 

“Hannibal….” 

“Will you punish me, Will?” 

 Continued in: 

Mistletoe Kiss 

[aliypop]

Apatia

Word Count: 3,235

Character Count: 17,58

Warning: Slight murder?

A/N: this is the third part to Empatia and Simpatia so I really hope you guys enjoys and please let me know if you do!

"Seems you're home early.." Hannibal said a soft smile on his face, "It would seem so if this were my home," the lawyer grumbled her leg resting on one of his pillows, the doctor had told her that resting would give herself a bit more strength than when she had entered the hospital, but as always she was reluctant and hard-headed, staring out the window in the living room she focused on the raindrops something she had been doing lately other than trying to cook in Hannibals unexplainably Sweedish supplied kitchen, 

"Have you taken what the doctors prescribed you yet.."  he sat next to her on the couch, watching the way the dim lamp lighting made her glow as if she were heaven-sent.

" Madness can be a medicine for the modern world. You take it in moderation, "  mumbling as eyes focused on the case trying to read Wills chicken scratch handwriting, "Is that not what you've always told me, " Shanel asked, her tone of voice blunt and oozing with sarcasm,  "It is but it's best if you take them in this case to heal," trying not to get aggravated with her although she had only been out the hospital for a week, he still couldn't hide his concern for what he found in her file, "You should leave me alone .." she mumbled under her breath trying to verbally push him away, 

"You feel like you're sinking, " he looked at her,

"I'm fine.." she looked away from his shark-like gaze.

"You barely come out of your room, " he sighed, watching her avoid his eye contact, "Why is that?"

"Well, Doctor Lector.. if we're playing a game of doctor-patient.." she tried not to lash out at him, her fingers fidgeting around the fabric under her, "This isn't my home, I question why I agreed with you to stay, nothing I own is even here," Shanel sighed, attending to her note again Hannibal closing her notepad, 

"You've been awfully rude lately.. " he growled much as a lion would growl to get a lamb to grovel at its feet, dark honey eyes glared at his amber ones, 

"Maybe I would enjoy it if I was home in my apartment, or if I didn't have nightmares every night, or if I wasn't such a!" she covered her mouth, turning away from him quickly, Hannibal could sense and smell what was going on with her he could practically taste her sleepless nights the stench of her depression her aching bones from working herself too hard let alone the way she startled around him lately, he'd only seen this in a few older clients, but never this close, 

"How long have you been surviving post-traumatic stress disorder," he sat down on his chase, sketchbook open, "If you must know.. I've been suffering from this since I was little.." she mumbled, focusing on his hands, his face the way it no longer blurred, instead, he stood out among the darkness surrounding him, 

"You've gone through quite an awful lot of psychiatrists have you not..' he looked up, catching the lighting from above her head as she continued to talk, 

"I have, even a few mental hospitals.." she laughed, "I bit my doctor a few times got punished for bad behavior ."  her eye's now on him as she rests her head on the arm of the couch her dark hair framing her face landing on her shoulder, the dark circles under her eyes definitely indicated her lack of sleep, much like Will Graham who too seemed to almost suffer from something slightly similar, but that was neither here nor there in the matter, 

"Quid pro quo Doctor Lector.,"  she suggested, 

"I beg your pardon.," he responded, stopping in his tracks of sketching. 

"I tell you things, you tell me things," she smirked, placing her head in the palm of her hands, "nothing has to deal with my case file," she suggested as he nodded. A little game with the young lawyer wouldn't hurt at least he had hoped it wouldn't, 

"How long have you been orphaned," she asked, "If you lie, I will uncomfortably lick you.." she stared deep into his ever so changing soul, pencil now on paper, besides she was always told it's best to know the person you live with then break bread to a stranger, " I was 8 years old," he looked directly at Shanel, not knowing the first question would be such a big blow to his oh so secretive past that not many knew about it, his own secrets to the grave he'd say, 

"Your aunt was she a.. nice lady?" she watched the tension in his back, and how it made him stiffen up, "She taught me a few tricks.." he laughed playing off the stings one by one,  

"Quid pro quo, tell me about your boarding  school years," 

" Quid pro quo, why did you leave Florence but yet forget me.," her voice turning into a small tremble, there wasn't a sleepless night when she was a young girl that she didn't think of her perfect stranger in the museum, after all, her mind palace was modeled after it, the silence between them felt as if someone had died and was never coming back, neither party wanted to break it they didn't know-how, the air was deathly still as she collected her thoughts, her phone ringing the caller idea flashing Will Graham's number, "Duty call's" getting up from the couch using her crutch limping about to the front door,

"Jack wants to see you in his office," Will said, "How soon can you get here?" 

"Well, need I remind you I am an hour away and injured?"  she stated behind gritted teeth as she got into her car, "Patience is virtue Graham .. but clearly it's not enough," she mumbled under breath, the headquarters, unlike Hannibal's home, was brighter and a lot less bleak in the mix, though the odd aroma caused by decaying evidence, however, leave a trace in her naval cavity it wasn't as bad as,

 "You and your ship bottle aftershave.." she laughed, 

"I keep getting it for Christmas.." he shrugged, noticing something off about her. 

"Remind me to buy something else, perhaps Dolce and Gabbana?" she patted him on the back a snicker leaving her lips, walking towards Crawford's office never felt that long of a walk it was usually five minutes but with crutches and a limp it was five hours or so it seemed in her head, 

 "Will you've changed .." Shanel pointed out, "you've been irritable .. lately losing lack of sleep... " she looked at his tired blue eyes his curls still springing to life on his head unlike him, "First, Lector now you..." he kept his gaze off of hers a thing he usually did, 

"And since when did you become so wise with psychology .." 

"Damn it, Will, last time you got close you almost died I sat there every day in your hospital room waiting for you to breathe or.. or move you're my friend, and I can't let you suffer!"  she growled, throwing her crutches down out of anger,  

he only laughed at the way she reacted, "And yet you can," he snarled walking inside, seeing Alana and Jack who were like usual discussing Will Graham with his shaky mental health, Shanel only sighed looking at the scruffy consultant's reaction as he pulled at a seat for his favorite lawyer, Shanel could only feel discomfort in herself and around her, never truly understanding why they called in a lawyer from another state she sat there dreaming off until they mentioned her name which never really happened,  

"Are you going to let his love go to waste?" Hannibal asked as his voice echoed through the gallery halls longer than ones in a cathedral, Shanel knew where she was though still getting used to transporting herself there and getting out was the hard parts, " You ask me questions and, never answered mine, why is that," she asked looking down seeing that her suit was now a pink dress sheer showing her vulnerability but with solid silk showing all she was hiding, flowing behind her was long fabric making her look so well put together even when she felt that she wasn't, standing before her was Hannibal, and as usual, he was in white a color that suits him very well, "You're a challenging one," he said offering his hand out to hers waiting for her to take it,

 "Am I..."  she asked him, watching the way her hands came to her side, " And what's this about love going to waste.." her response snappy, 

"The way you look at Graham.." 

"What about it.."  she walked by his side, "You think I love.. " she saw him nod as she laughed, knowing he wasn't her type at all, instead of Will her interest was more on someone who was intellectually competent skilled in the arts and a lover among many things, 

"Well do you, Ms. Mahone," 

"Ms. Mahone.."

"Ms. Mahone.." Jack sighed, "Are you sure you're able to take on this case.." watching how she reacted, Shanel had understood most of what Jack asked of her, " As her appointed lawyer you want me to consult with Hobbs seek out that her wishes have been fulfilled and keep her record clean," she recited back to him her head feeling like it could pop off at any moment, however, she wasn't the only one feeling the same way, Hannibal watched the move in company as they emptied the truck of his new roommate per se items scuffing up her pure gold headboard and nearly ripping her king-sized mattress, 

"Do be.. careful with that," he grumbled seeing how rude they were made him want to smash the very blood and brains in their heads against the walls, he wanted her return to their now shared home to be breathtaking and impressive even though she drove him up a wall with her condition that she'd been avoiding to talk about, walking into what was now her closet he took notice of what she had made the hidden compartment into, stocked with her guns, knives, and sedation medication along with several embalming fluids that not even he could get his hands on anymore without his license, but what caught him off guard the most was her pink suit that almost resembled a two-piece rain set, which made him feel two things, curious and slightly scared of what a short woman like her was capable of doing,

"Hannibal, I'm here.." she said announcing herself through the door, scraping off the access blood off her hands, as well as the leftover brains that were now on her heels, "That'll teach you lot not to go for the cookie jar," she raised her heel up pressing it into one of the victim's necks, rotating the point on his sternocleidomastoids,

 "Do you eat vocal cords," she asked hearing Hannibal  come across the steps,

"Should I perhaps be worried as to why you asked.." he looked down seeing blood on his wood floors and barley any on Shanel, "If so I'll be sure not injure them if not.." she began pressing the pressure deep into the man's neck hearing him gargle blood as the bones snapped one by one like a button on a shirt, "They were entirely rude, he scuffed your beautiful furniture, and If I'm not mistaken, he smells of tortured children..," he pointed towards the man under her foot as she took her finger tasting the pure sweat from the works face,

 "I believe you're correct! " she laughed, eyes almost a pitch-black from the lust she received from killing, this was the side he had wanted to see, how she committed her art of personal treason the faces made, and how the trophies were made if any were even kept, to see the true her was knowing everything he needed to see, 

"Did you want a piece of the action?" she turned to him watching how he carried the bodies over his shoulders like pigs left to slaughter, "I've got it from here," he smiled walking through the kitchen and into another forbidden door across from the wine pantry, standing like a deer in headlights she remained still and never once moved, "You don't have to be scared little lion," he said  hearing her bare feet on the ground, from her soft walk he could sense she was a ballerina almost a pro, heading down the many flights of steps limping down, she could feel the breeze of trust pass her way, along with an unfamiliar sensation crossed, that she'd almost call it admiration for the slightly older man, 

"Well, isn't this adorable a torture basement, you know.." she began, placing the bodies on the surgical table as she took a needle out from the heel of her shoe connecting it to the victim's arm and IV, 

"Yes, nurse Mahone," he joked, looking at the way she played doctor with him, "My father had one of these when I was little, installed it himself, so many times I walk and.. he was cutting a finger or an eye," she sighed almost flashing back to those times, he took the plastic tube from her, caressing her finger a way to remind her that her scars were a reminder that past was real, a lesson she had tended to forget,  "How was your day back on the field," his hand finding his favorite surgical tool, 

"Crawford wants me on the case around, Hobbs at most times, meanwhile Bloom thinks I'm not ready to be back, and Graham thinks everyone's attacking him," she sighed,  stitching the eyes aggressively together pricking herself, "Merda," she grumbled Hannibal took her finger, placing it to his lips taking a bit of the sweet, decadent taste on his tongue, not paying any attention to how flustered he made Shanel he could smell the scent which was just enough for him to know he was on the right track.,  "Such language ..," commenting on what she had muttered under her breath,

 "You speak Italian .." she questioned, removing her hand from near his mouth " The might be a safer bet, he has liver, pancreatic, and lung cancer not what you'd want to serve to your guest tonight," she mentioned waiting for his answer as he nodded, " My mother was Italian  Simonetta Sforza-Lecter," he studied her reaction to the name seeing how she froze in her tracks, the name was so familiar, but couldn't place where she had heard it, 

"And yours?" he asked, "Only finishing our little game from earlier," he smirked, giving her a wink.

"Rosetta Leoni Addorio Mahone" he looked at her in shock but saw how the resemblance was uncanny, it had been so many years since he had last seen yet even been in Italy that he didn't even think twice to names, "Perhaps we'll talk after dinner, our guest will be here any moment, " he said seeing Shanel leave up the steps ascending like an angel, soaking in the tub her mind couldn't help but wonder about what she experienced from lector, one moment they're nearly at each other's throats, and the next moment he's trying to doctor her up and butter her up to get her to trust him, as she looked at the bubbles around her they seemed to have been showing her a new her the suds began getting dark,  the feeling of something tugging at her feet weighing her down while the water was as black as blood in the moonlight, she kept gasping for air, but she couldn't breathe scream or even shout, trapped watching her past float around while the taste of Iron scaped into her mouth, 

"Shanel..." a voice said calling out to her,

"Shanel.." She sank deeper the water becoming thicker seeing a bright light at the end, 

"Shanel, are you alright?" Hannibal wrapped her in a towel, checking for her pulse feeling her shiver much like a helpless kitten, "Can you hear me..." he asked opening her mouth, wheezing and coughing occurred but it was a sign that she was alive and well, frazzled from what she saw she hid her face deep into his neck knowing that what she once was becoming came to return to her,  he sat her down on her bed as Shanel kept clinging on to Hannibal his scent calming her down, 

"What did you see.." 

She shook her head not wanting to talk,

"Please cooperate with me.." he sighed, sitting her down, "If we don't talk about these things, they eat at us and turn us into crazies," he tried getting her to talk, giving up shortly he turned his back to walk away, 

"I sa-saw bla-bla-blood," she stuttered, " An-an-an-and, I saw h-h-h," she began shaking the moment of Christopher grabbing her foot the sound of the zipper played over, and over again in her mind,  he could only cradle her like he once did someone else long ago,

 "The mirrors in your mind can only reflect the best of yourself not the worst of someone else,"  he tilted her chin up with his index finger, the puddles of tears clouding her eyes like a river, she looked down as he brought her eyes to face his, "You are no more a monster than what he is," he kissed the bridge of her nose, 

"I'll be down in a minute.." she whispered as he nodded exciting out of her room, she took her time applying her makeup and adding garnet clips in her hair to match her red dinner dress and heels, she could hear the chattering downstairs almost like a group of screaming lambs carrying, but now it was her time to carry on amongst them as the lion he knows her to be, "Bloom, Abigal lovely to have you both for dinner at his - our humble estate," Shanel gazed, over at Hannibal who wore a matching garnet tie. 

 "It's our pleasure really,"  Alana smiled, "I figured we'd check on your well being and dinner,"  she joked as Hannibal pulled the seat out for Shanel, 

"Must we talk about me, and not Ms. Hobbs" she looked over at Abigal who gave her a soft smile full of nerves, " I promise you I don't bite though,  Hannibal I can't  speak for him," she laughed yet again hearing the table enjoy her joke,  Dinner like always had been great, company laughs and of course surrounded by fake smiles and fake love, Shanel sighed washing the dishes humming a slight tune as she heard Hannibal walk beside her listening to the melody from her mouth, it made him think a woman with so many gifts had so many talents, "I hope dinner was to your liking," he began making small talk, 

"You fit in quite very well out there, " he got closer towards her, "You put on the mask so that no one sees the true you it becomes buried deep inside you instead," he watched her  body language, 

"Suppose we keep it up then what.." she asked him getting irritable,

"People will think we're in love," he took her lips with his own walking away,

"You make me want to murder you..." she grumbled.

"Dito.." 

[cassraven]

Sick with Chest Cold Woes

So, for the last few weeks I have been pretty much Missing In Action on here as some could see. Why you ask? Because since the Sunday of the Super Bowl Football Game Party my sister threw/hosted at her house...guess who caught a random getting sick? That's right, this girl. Me!

Originally, I had thought and assumed it was just chills and my allergies acting up from the cold winter weather. Thought that it was nothing, no big deal. I was completely wrong because by middle of the last week, it manifested completely into this nonstop sneezing, coughing, headache, weakening me Chest Cold that weakened my poor asthma. It got to the point where my Mum had to drive me to the nearest open Urgent Care Medical Center in town two days ago. (Literally, Mum had to force me to go bundled up in my sweater knitted jackets, Luna Sailor Moon beanie, and long plaid neck scarf after she saw I wasn't getting any better.)

The doctor looked over me, after a 20 minute wait in the waiting room to be seen. She said officially I had a bad chest cold that was affecting my asthma making it feel worse pain wise. She wrote me a prescription for a brand new nasal asthma inhaler to use, some cold medication pills antibiotics that were so much more stronger. Told me to keep drinking fluids of (water, ginger ale, hot herbal berry-honey teas), eat soup, soup broth, chicken soup, some mashed potato sweet potatoes, blue berry yogurt to help with feeling better. Told me to keep warm, rest-nap as much as I could, wear socks around the house, and to keep taking my other cold tablet medication and that I'd be better in another week's time hopefully.

So, I've been sick with this chest cold of doom. Haven't been able to work at my art drafting table, the much art I've done lately is just drawing in a sketchbook and marker paper sketchpad of paper with art markers and pencils doodling Sailor Moon and Hannibal the series fandom fan art from in my bed of blanket bundles. I sold the Hannibal Art Coaster Portraits in the Fannibal Auction Online for Toronto Fannibal Fest Convention Con, will be mailing those out to the buyer of the art I made ASAP to the post office once I can make the trip.

Other than that, not much has gone on....I've been off-on working on writing work in progress chapters for fan fiction chapter stories...hopefully there will be new chapters ASAP to some Sailor Moon fics by me...depends on this evil cold of doom and when it wants to official vacant my body.

[theopteryx]

5, 20, 22, 33 :)

5. what was your first picture that you can remember? Share if you still have it.

i don't have a scans of them but in my childhood bedroom i have a bunch of old sketchbooks full of like, bird-monster princesses, old fancy rotary cradle phones which i thought were the most glamorous things i'd ever seen, and drawings of ickis from aahhh!! real monsters wearing a variety of outfits, including a space suit and a tuxedo, for when we were (obviously) married. the energy has remained the same!

20. how many drawings are you working on right now?

i have a couple of abandoned sketches but i'm mostly in-between drawings this week, since work is nuts and i've got a freelance deadline on friday. hopefully this weekend though!

22. do you do warm-ups?

sometimes! most of the times that i post my dnd characters or npcs from our game they started as a warm-up. i had this file for a little while where i'd pop in and draw one character at a time before starting a new drawing. i've been trying to do some stuff that's more out of my wheelhouse lately though to try and looooosen up more, or practice drawing hands from a reference or something.

23. ever been in a zine?

i have! i've been in a couple of zines under my rl name but i was also in the hannibal zine RAW a few years ago and the steve/bucky zine BROOKLYN before that. i'd like to do it again at some point!