#chilton one shot

[rainbow-femme]

I wonder if Will was ever mad about the fact that there wasn’t really period where people apologized to him for not believing him about Hannibal

It just went from “Will you’re a crazy murderer for even thinking Hannibal could be a serial killer” to “We all now believe Hannibal is a serial killer and have organically and equally come to this conclusion we could not have known at any earlier date”

I mean I feel like I’d be a little mad. I think he should have gotten one free slap on one of them and taken his time deciding who and when. Just mid conversation with everyone on how to catch Hannibal and he just absolutely cracks Chilton across the face then goes back to acting like nothing happened

[ihavemanyhusbands]

High Risk

PART ONE: STAR PATIENT

Mini-series masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Fem!Reader

WC: 3.5k words

Series Summary: You, a nurse at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, are assigned to the newest inmate -- none other than the Chesapeake Ripper, otherwise known as Hannibal Lecter. He is nothing short of charming, but the dangerous mysteries that lurk beneath are equally alluring. So much so that you can barely resist the urge to uncover them all.

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence (mentions and some descriptions), slight canon divergence (here frederick is still director of the hospital), corruption, manipulation all around, eventual smut, secret affair(ish?), sort of power imbalance, ongoing murder investigation (the red dragon), cursing, not-so-slow burn, hannibal being hannibal pretty much, aaand that’s all I can think of but lmk if something should be added!

—————

“A woman being never at a loss…. The devil always sticks by them.” — Lord Byron

———-

Much like the Minotaur’s labyrinth, Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was designed never to let one escape. At least, that’s how you viewed it, even if you were a worker and not a prisoner there. 

Still, you weren’t sure that was any better.

The place’s immaculate cleanliness was almost unnerving, but it was fitting. The walls were a glaring white, and the floors were always polished until they shone. The hallways were meant to confuse those who hadn’t actively tried to memorize them, every corner seeming the same.

Your uniform had to be impeccable too, lest you made the place look bad. It was absurd how much laundry you had to do, and how much time you had to spend on your appearance. All for it to go to waste whenever things got messy with rowdier inmates. 

But despite it all, there was a certain allure to the place that made you want to return each day. Something morbid, almost sinister, like a secret waiting to be uncovered. It was irresistible, and it would be until you found it out.

Doctor Chilton had just given you the rundown about the new inmate, stressing the importance of following protocol when dealing with him. He’d handed you his file to look over and on the very first page, there was a picture of the man they called the Chesapeake Ripper — Hannibal Lecter. 

You were taken aback for a moment, not expecting him to look like that. Luckily, the Doctor did not seem to notice your reaction, and you quickly made sure your expression was neutral once more.

Despite having worked there for a few years, witnessing all sorts of things, you were a little rattled by the way he spoke about him. Especially after mentioning he didn’t want to lose any more nurses, alluding to the incident with a former inmate, Doctor Gideon.

As it turned out, Hannibal was also a doctor, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the prospect of some macabre pattern forming. 

Of course, none of the other nurses wanted to be assigned to him, but Doctor Chilton trusted you to handle things well. You did what was asked of you and never caused any trouble. Truthfully, it wasn’t because you were particularly driven, but you wanted to fly under the radar and take it day by day.

And yet, it had still led you there, despite your efforts. 

You took the elevator down from the top floor, reading the file as you went. It was noted that the risk of him being violent was quite high, but he had thus far been cooperative with the staff. In fact, he had even turned himself in to the police, which was a detail that stood out to you. 

Considering his numerous horrific crimes, along with Doctor Chilton’s psychological assessment of him, he did not seem like a man who would let himself be apprehended so easily. It would gnaw at you, but you weren’t sure if you’d get the answers you suddenly seeked.

You left the file at your station to finish reading later, trying your best to ignore the looks of fear and pity some of the other nurses shot your way. Hopefully none of them would try to give you shallow words of affirmation, knowing you’d be the subject of gossip for the next week or so.

The maximum security cells were on the basement floor, but you stopped by the kitchen first to get his meal tray. You steeled your nerves as you passed through the extensive clearance, continuing down the hallway until you reached the very last cell, which was behind a set of double doors.

Was the light dimmer there, or were you imagining things? You could see shadows lurking in the corners of the room, an ominous feeling curling in your stomach. A cool gust from one of the AC vents made you shiver, but otherwise, you willed yourself to stay composed.

Finally, you dared to look into the actual cell. It was much nicer than most of the other cells, equipped with two bookshelves, a large mahogany desk, and some elaborate sketches that were taped on the walls. Perhaps part of a bargain struck with Doctor Chilton based on his cooperation with the authorities. 

Then again, he was the new star patient, so that probably earned him a few more privileges. Despite those small luxuries though, you knew it’d be hard for him to forget that he was incarcerated.

Hannibal himself was lying down on his cot, reading, but he sat up as soon as you entered. He was even more handsome in person, almost rakish, and you allowed yourself the smallest pause to continue looking at him. 

He had a fine nose, dark eyes, and an aristocratic air to him. Not to mention, a full, obscene mouth that was surely meant to cast impure thoughts. 

Somehow, you had to admit that even his slate gray jumpsuit fit him quite well. If he truly was the Devil, then word of his burning, unholy beauty was not a lie.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted with a smile that you were sure had charmed many in the past.

“Good afternoon. Stay where you are, please,” you said firmly but politely, returning the smile just slightly. “I’ve brought lunch.”

He obeyed, hands resting on his knees. Slowly, tentatively, you made your way to the slot in the glass where you could deposit the tray. 

“Please don’t retrieve it until I’m gone, and let a guard know when you’re done so they can collect it.”

He nodded, smile still in place. “Thank you.”

You began to retreat, feeling his gaze fixed on your back. It wasn’t until your hand was on the door knob that you realized your heart was racing. Adrenaline was dancing beneath your skin like little bolts of electricity, but at least your breathing was even. 

What was it that had affected you so deeply? Was it the thrill of looking into the eyes of pure evil? 

No, that was far too simple, and therefore what you had expected… but that wasn’t all you’d been able to see. It was hard to decipher just at first glance, but you hadn’t been brave enough to hold eye contact for long. And you certainly weren’t any braver when you returned to deliver his supper later that evening.

He was still all smiles and charming obedience, but you noticed his eyes wandered a lot more. It might have been a little amusing, if you weren’t so nervous. If anything, to have his attention was both intimidating and bewitching.

It made you want to say something more, but you weren’t sure what. Still, you knew better than to engage too much outside of protocol.

Or at least you thought you did. 

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

Moonlight slipping through the foliage, anointing the darkened world in silver. A deer silently drank from a stream, unaware the hunter had spotted it. Head bent, throat long. It would be an easy shot, arrow cleanly piercing the jugular. 

It ran, but it did not get very far.  Its wide, ink-black eyes were looking up at the beautiful face of the moon, silhouetting the hunter. Its weakening heart leapt at the sight.

The last thing it saw was his knife.

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

You woke up with a start, panting and confused. Sleep slid off you slowly, like a veil uncovering your eyes. Your hand unconsciously went to your throat, but unsurprisingly, you found no arrow’s fletching.

Two weeks had passed with nothing especially of note. You had read the entirety of Hannibal’s file, the details of his brutality leaking out into your life beyond Baltimore State Hospital.

It was hard to peel off all the misery embedded in its walls, especially being exposed to it daily. It was easier to compartmentalize instead, letting your mind go blank at the end of the day. But the dreams were an inevitable torment, nonsensical and intensely vivid.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes and sighing into the silence of your small bedroom. You stared into the middle distance for a few minutes, mentally preparing to start your day. 

In the time that had passed, you had exchanged a few more words with Hannibal that were not part of protocol. He had asked your name, his tone kept carefully casual, and you thought it only fair to tell him. 

After that, he had ventured to ask more innocuous questions about yourself, perhaps trying to test the limits of your interactions. You had answered most of them truthfully but vaguely, worried about him psychoanalyzing you.

Something told you he'd also know if you were lying, so you figured it’d be mostly useless to try. But you were entitled to your secrets, too, and you preferred keeping your cards close to your chest.

Yet you were also aware that it would not deter him, but unbeknownst to him, you were just as headstrong. 

Later, after having slipped on your mask of cool indifference and clocking into work, you brought down his breakfast. You found him at his desk, sketching. He glanced up without moving his head, pencil still moving.

“Good morning,” he greeted. “Is it nice out today?”

“Depends on what you consider ‘nice’,” you said mildly, making slow work of depositing his meal tray. “It’s been intermittently raining since last night, and I don’t think it will stop any time soon.”

“Not bad at all,” he said, his tone ever so slightly wistful. “I do quite enjoy rain. I hope you didn’t forget your umbrella.” 

Strangely, you couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for him. The sudden loss of freedom was an unbearable thought to you, and you didn’t really wish it on anyone. But that wasn’t to say he didn’t deserve to be in the position he was in.

He noticed you hovering but not saying anything. Finally, his pencil halted and he looked up at you, leaning forward slightly. His assessing gaze pinned you in place, but your body was tense and ready to flee.

“You sound tired. Did you sleep poorly?” He asked.

You blinked in surprise, the question snapping you back to the present. Lowering your gaze, you inclined your head.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” you said politely. “I should get going, I’ll be back in an hour.”

He pursed his lips in what seemed like irritation, but he didn’t press you. Instead, he stopped you once more by changing the subject. 

“Before I try to talk to Frederick about it, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” Hannibal said.

You looked at him with apprehensive curiosity. “I cannot promise you anything, but you may ask me.”

“I would like to draw you, if you’d model for me,” he said. “Simple stuff, all of it appropriate. I promise. I’m just in dire need of a muse.”

“What makes you think he will say yes to such a request?” You asked, not yet processing everything in your state of shock. 

He smirked. “He needs my help with certain things, so it’s only fair I get something in return.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “And… Why the interest in me, specifically?”

“It would be a sin not to immortalize features like yours.”

Heat crawled up to your face and your arms tightened against your torso, but you kept a mostly neutral expression on your face. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or just toying with you to unnerve you, but you had a feeling it was a mixture of both.

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of a bigger reaction, but it was likely he could still tell he’d rattled you. The worst part was that deep inside, you also took his interest as a compliment, but there was no way you would let that show.

“I’ll give it some thought,” you said slowly, unsure why you were even considering it. “Pending Doctor Chilton’s approval, of course.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

With that, you left, floating down the corridor as if detached from your body. The whole situation had a feeling of unreality to it, and you kept expecting to wake up once again.

As you got to the nurse’s station, another nurse told you that Doctor Chilton had summoned you to his office. You blinked at her in surprise. Impossible… Had Hannibal really been so fast?

Next thing you knew, you were knocking on the door to his office, turning the knob when you heard him grant you access.

“There you are,” Doctor Chilton said, one hand resting on his cane. “Close the door behind you and take a seat, will you?”

You dipped your chin in compliance and mechanically followed instructions. For what seemed like an eternity, he said nothing, studying you instead. You shifted slightly in your seat, instinctively returning the favor if only because you didn’t want to be the one to look away.

He himself had been a victim of Hannibal’s more than once, and his body bore all of the evidence. Still, the Doctor had an undeniable obsession, using any and every opportunity to brag about Hannibal’s capture.

Clearly, the impact had been more than skin deep. No one ever dared to outwardly gossip about it, but it was well-known regardless.

It wasn’t often that you dealt with him directly, and you were being painfully reminded of why you preferred it that way. 

“Did…” you began, but he interrupted.

“I watched it all through the cameras. He knew I would be when he asked you that.” He leaned forward on the desk, hands clasped. “Wise choice not to give in just yet.”

You couldn’t help but balk at this. “I beg your pardon?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It must have been a tempting offer, to be the Devil’s muse. I would not blame you if you were at least a little flattered.”

Your eyes, just like your resolve, were like steel. “Why have you called me here, if I may ask?”

His smug, easy grin faded as he let out a long sigh, his patience wavering for a moment. 

“Hannibal is right about my needing him, though I am not the only one who does. The reason why is classified, as you can imagine, so I cannot tell you much,” he said, keeping his tone bored as if he couldn’t be bothered to explain it to you. “What I’m trying to understand now is why he wants you in return.”

“I’m just as confused, trust me.”

“From what I have observed, you don’t speak much, even if he has tried. I wonder if the challenge interests him…” he drifted off thoughtfully for a moment. “Though I suppose he’s always liked to surround himself with pretty things, too.” 

You stiffened, taken aback by the strange compliment. “And so you are expecting me to say yes?”

“I’m not expecting, no, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that this goes beyond Baltimore State. Of course, should you choose to assist us, you would not only be generously compensated, but I would be immensely grateful, as well.”

You thought about it for a moment. The additional income would definitely be helpful, but you had to admit you were also growing more and more curious about the whole thing. What else did you have going on, otherwise? 

Still, you had to try and cover all your bases first. You couldn’t make it too easy for him, after all.

You slightly tilted your head to the side.“Grateful… so you could call it a favor, then?”

He raised both eyebrows. “A favor?”

“Yes, Doctor. He’s a highly dangerous patient and you are asking me to spend longer periods of time – I’m presuming alone – with him. The safety of all staff should be your top priority, right?” you said pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What use is money if no one’s alive to collect it?”

His green eyes narrowed as he seemed to weigh his options. Your face remained implacable, though there was also a challenging shade in your features that he did not miss. Otherwise, he could not get a very good read on you, and that suddenly intrigued him. Perhaps you’d be more useful than he’d originally thought.

“Right… You make a good point,” he finally conceded. “Well, I am a man of honor, after all. Anything you might need, you can always ask.” 

You smiled as genially as you could. “How gracious of you, Doctor Chilton. Thank you.”

His false smile was more like a sneer. “Of course. You don’t have to give your final answer now, but…”

“I accept,” you said, cutting him off. “I am honored by the opportunity.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

“How close are you able to get to the glass?”

“Up to ten paces away,” you said, taking your cardigan off and draping it over the back of the chair you’d brought. “Should be close enough, no?”

“Not nearly,” Hannibal said with a small, flirtatious smile that you did not return. 

Still, he could see a flicker of amusement cross your face, softening you infinitesimally. It only made him ache all the more to see you up close. He felt a sudden thrill that warmed his extremities — a feeling he recognized but had not felt for some time.

“Doctor Chilton has given us two hours, so I’d advise you to use the time wisely,” you said, slightly lifting an eyebrow and setting your hands on your hips. “How would you like to start?” 

“Just as you are, at your most natural,” he said, picking up his pencil. “Let’s see…”

It was strange at first, to have him stare so intently at you. You, who were seldom cowed by anything, could still barely keep eye contact with him. As an excuse, you offered your profile, turning your body to face the wall. 

He complimented the elegant swoop of your neck and you rewarded him with a demure glance and soft words of gratitude. His grip on the pencil tightened, his heartbeat spiking. You caught the way he shifted slightly in his chair, swallowing hard. 

Despite your icy exterior, you felt a thrill at the effect you seemed to have on him. 

You hadn’t been instructed to do anything but show up, but you knew instinctively that it would take more than that to keep Doctor Chilton’s favor… and Hannibal’s interest. Luckily, you were well versed in the art of slow seduction – giving just enough, but then withdrawing in equal measure.

Not to mention, it felt safer to do so on the other side of the glass.

Once or twice, he gave you brief instructions on how to pose your arms or which way to angle your head. You fell into a sort of meditative state, the reality of the whole situation slipping away from you, as well as the passage of time. 

When your watch’s timer went off, he seemed to snap back into focus at the same time as you. You looked up, startled at the sight of all the sheets of paper strewn about the desk. You noticed his hands were stained with graphite as he set his pencil down.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you took a step closer if only to try to get a glimpse. There was an almost frantic quality to the sketches, as if he was worried he might not be able to trace all the lines he wanted to in time. You weren’t able to gather many details from that angle, but you did not doubt his talent. Something about those hands…

“Productive first day,” you said, lightly teasing him to distract yourself from other thoughts passing through your mind.

A smile and the faintest dip of his chin. “I have not been so inspired in a while.”

“You flatter me too much. I’m sure it wasn’t just due to me,” you said, looking behind him at his bookshelf. “What are you currently reading?”

He seemed momentarily surprised at your interest, glancing over his shoulder and slightly raising his eyebrows. 

“Byron, actually.” He chuckled as he saw your reaction to the poet’s name. “The irony of it is not lost on me, trust me.”

You looked away. “You’re finding beauty where you can. I understand.”

“I always have, in my own way,” he said. “I have a feeling you might relate.”

“In places like this, there is no other choice,” you said, noncommittal. “Not if you want to survive it.”

“The great object of life is sensation,” he quoted. “To feel that we exist, even though in pain.”

You let out a short exhale as you slipped your cardigan back on. How curious that he would be a romantic, but you supposed, in a way, it made sense. 

Free of being a so called muse for the day, you withdrew back into yourself. He’d gotten the barest glimpse of another side of you — softer, more open — and that had to be enough for the time being. 

Had to leave him wanting more, after all.

“I will see you bright and early tomorrow, Hannibal. Get some rest.”

------

[iamgonnagetyouback]

insecure Jess Mariano trying to rub his relationship with fem!reader in every guys face every chance he gets because he wants to prove that he’s the one for her and doesn’t want her to think there’s a better guy out there for her . She notices his behavior and later reassures him that he’s enough and that he’s the only one for her (+ her saying I love you for the first time 🤭)

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Jess is insecure about you leaving him for someone better.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Insecure Jess

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Jess Mariano x Reader

Jess’s hand tightens around yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles, but there’s tension in the way his fingers grip yours. You glance up at him, catching the way his eyes are fixed across the courtyard, narrowed with barely concealed irritation.

You follow his gaze and sigh softly when you see the source of his mood: Tristan. He’s lounging on one of the benches, smirking in your direction as if he’s waiting for you to acknowledge him. Jess notices it every time, and lately, it's been getting under his skin more than usual.

Jess doesn’t waste any time. “Hey, babe,” he says, louder than necessary as he pulls you closer to his side. “You cold? I’ve got your jacket in my bag. Want me to grab it?”

You raise a brow at him. “I’m fine, Jess.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want my girl catching a cold.” He practically spits out the last two words, glaring pointedly at Tristan, who’s pretending not to notice, though you see the twitch of a smirk playing on his lips.

You stifle a sigh, feeling the familiar heat of frustration rising in your chest. This isn’t the first time Jess has done this, and you’ve started to notice a pattern: every time a guy so much as glances your way, Jess is quick to claim you like you might slip through his fingers at any moment.

You tug gently at his hand, pulling him away from the courtyard and out of Tristan’s line of sight. He follows, but the stiffness in his shoulders doesn’t ease up. You walk in silence for a few moments, waiting for him to speak, but when he doesn’t, you stop and turn to face him.

“Jess, what’s going on?”

He shifts, running a hand through his hair, avoiding your eyes. “Nothing,” he mutters, but you can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his foot taps impatiently on the pavement.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me,” you say softly. “You’ve been acting like this every time we’re around other guys. Like you’re trying to prove something.”

He huffs, looking anywhere but at you. “What do you want me to say? That I don’t like the way they look at you? That I know every guy in this place would line up for a shot if you weren’t with me?”

You blink, taken aback by the frustration lacing his voice. “Jess…”

“Look, I get it, okay?” he cuts in, voice rougher now. “I’m not like them. I’m not some rich kid from Chilton or some golden boy with a perfect future. I’m the guy everyone warns you to stay away from. So, yeah, maybe I’m insecure. Maybe I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realize you could do better.”

His words hit you hard, and your heart clenches at the vulnerability he’s showing, even if he’s trying to hide it behind his usual tough exterior. You take a step closer, placing a hand on his chest.

“Jess,” you say softly, waiting until he finally meets your gaze. His brown eyes are clouded with doubt, and you can feel the weight of all the things he doesn’t say pressing between you.

“I don’t want anyone else,” you say firmly, holding his gaze. “I want you. Not Tristan. Not anyone else. Just you.”

He doesn’t say anything, his lips pressing into a thin line like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“And if you think for one second that there’s a ‘better’ guy out there for me, you’re wrong. You’re it, Jess. You’re enough. More than enough.”

You reach up, cupping his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “I love you, Jess. No one else. You.”

His breath hitches, eyes widening as your words sink in. For a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s not sure he heard you right. Then, before you can say anything else, he pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly it feels like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“You… you love me?” he murmurs, voice uncharacteristically soft against your hair.

You smile into his chest, squeezing him just as tightly. “Yes, I love you. How many times do I have to say it?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and the vulnerability in his eyes is replaced by something softer—relief, maybe, and something else that looks like wonder.

“I love you too,” he whispers, his voice almost reverent, like he can’t quite believe it. Then he kisses you, slow and tender, like he’s pouring all the things he’s too scared to say into that one moment.

When you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours, and for the first time all day, he seems relaxed. “Sorry for being a jealous idiot.”

You chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “It’s okay. Just… try to remember that you don’t have to prove anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

He smirks, though there’s still a softness in his eyes. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hi,

i heard you are taking requests again. So could you please write a Hannibal x fem!reader one-shot, where she used to study alongside Will at the FBI and actually made it, but works in field in another state. After a series of murders she is ordered to Baltimore. Hannibal soons takes a interest in her after she got ordered to start therapy lessons. Will tries to warn her, but after Hannibal got attacked by the orderly, they confess their feelings.(with nsfw?)

Hannibal X reader: Homecoming

Warnings: Smut, fingering, penetration ( p in v), angst (really little), female reader, no use of y/n, not proofread.

Word count: 2K

You never expected to be back here. You’d grown up in Baltimore but you didn’t have a lot of love for the place. One of the reasons you’d been so excited when they told you you’d be working in another state was the fact that you wouldn’t have to face spending the rest of your days here. 

Seemed fate had other plans. 

Not only had you been called to assist with a murder case you’d just found out Will, one of your friends, was currently behind bars. You’d been surprised when Jack had told you why Will was locked up. There was no way he would have harmed someone. The Will you knew would never be capable of killing someone, much less eating one of their body parts. You knew something was up but there wasn’t a lot you could do. 

When Jack had told you you were being sent to mandatory therapy sessions you’d almost cussed him out. You didn’t need therapy, you were more than capable of handling seeing grime scenes without losing your mind. But Jack wasn’t giving you a choice. He told you he’d almost made a mistake with Will and that things would have been a lot worse if Hannibal hadn’t been accompanying Will's situation.

You weren’t what Hannibal was expecting. You put on this tough girl mask whenever you were at crime scenes. Anyone who looked at you could tell you knew your stuff and that you weren’t scared to be there. But the moment you stepped into Hannibal's office you were a different person. Less guarded and more sentimental. You talked about how being in the FBI made you feel like you were helping the victims but it also made you angry at people. You didn’t understand how someone could be cruel enough to hurt another person. Slowly Hannibal managed to break down your bearers and pretty soon the two of you found yourself searching for each other in a crowd. 

You’d wanted to visit Will since you’d arrived but you were so caught up with the investigation you hadn’t had the time. Jack had given you a day off and you took the chance to go see Will. You walked through the white floors, a chill running down your spin as you continued to make your way to Will. You had always hated these types of institutions but you knew better than to let the discomfort show. 

Will’s head snapped up at the sound of you entering the room. You smiled at him and he tried his best to return the gesture. You sat down in front of him, your hands instinctively moving to grab onto his. You waited for someone to yell on the intercom for you to keep your hands to yourself. When no one did you moved your attention to Will. 

“There aren't any cameras. He just likes to listen.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Chilton.”

“I’m not sure he’s allowed to do that.”

Will let out a dry laugh.

“He does whatever he wants. They all do.”

He looked a lot different then you remembered him. Less full of life then when you’d first met. It pained you to see him like this. You caressed his hands. After a moment Will gripped onto your hands, his fingers weaving into yours. He let out a tired smile.

“I can’t believe they sent you. All you wanted was to get out of here.”

“I know right.”

“How’s the investigation going?”

“As well as it can be i guess. Hannibal has been a great help.”

Will's body tensed at the mention of Hannibal. He tugged your hands, forcing you to move closer to him. You gave him a quizzical look, not understanding the sudden shift in the air.

“Will what’s-”

“Be careful around him. He’s not what he seems to be.”

Before you could ask him what he meant one of the workers opened the door, informing you your time was up. You gave Will one last glance before getting up to go.

You couldn’t get Will words out of your head for the rest of the week. You couldn’t understand what he was talking about. Sure Hannibal was a bit odd but he seemed absolutely harmless. You couldn’t think of anything that would make you fear him. You went on with your day as usual until you got the call from Jack. Your stomach dropped at his words, rushing to grab your badge and gun before you raced out the door.

You stared at the grotesk seen before you. You didn’t know Beverly for long but from what you could tell she was a wonderful agent and a lovely person. You watched Will take in the scene. Jack moved to exit the room but you couldn’t get yourself to leave. You knew it would be best for Will if he was alone, but you also knew Beverly was his friend. You moved over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face you, tears welling in his eyes.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Will stared at you, contemplating it for a moment. He shook his head.

“It’s better if I'm alone.”

“Okay.”

You turned to leave but before you were out Will called your name out. You turned to look at him. 

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna find him. And you’re gonna catch him for me.”

“I promise.”

With that you left the room, leaving Will to do what he did best. Get inside the killer's mind.

You tried Hannibal's phone for the fourth time.

“He isn't picking up.”

Alana paced around the room as Jack checked Hannibal's journals. You had a bad feeling. Ever since Alana told you about her conversation with Will you’d been on edge. Hannibal always picked up when you called and if he didn’t you knew where you could find him.

“He isn’t here.”

“There isn’t anything in his calendar.”

Jack's phone rang, filling the room. He picked it up speaking to the other person on the line as you and Alana looked at him expectantly. 

“They got a trace on his phone.”

The three of you rushed to the car. You sped down the road trying to get where you were  going as fast as you could. Once you arrived you raced through the place, trying to be quiet but also not wanting to waste time. You could hear your heart beating in your chest. The thought of something happening to Hannibal affected you more than you’d anticipated. You and Jack went in front, your guns at the ready. 

The moment Hannibal's frame came into view you froze. You barely registered what was happening until Jack took the shot. The sound of the gun ran through the room. The sound seemed to snap you out of your frozen state. You watched the killer put his foot out, kicking the bucket from beneath hannibal. The sound of choking made you snap into action. You rushed over to him, trying your hardest to lift him up.

“Help me Jack!”

Jack moved to where you were effortlessly picking Hannibal up onto his shoulder. You watched Hannibal gasp for air, your hand moving to rest against his cheek. He looked at you, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“It’s okay. We got you.”

Hannibal woke up in a hospital bed. He groaned as the bright lights filled his vision. He looked around the room, his eyes finding your frame immediately. You were splayed against his chest, completely asleep. He moved his hand to rest on your head. You stirred at the contact, eyes opening. You looked up at him, lifting your body off his.

“You’re awake.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they let visitors in.”

You were surprised to feel tears streaming from your eyes. Hannibal's hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb collecting your tears. You grabbed onto his wrist holding on to him. 

“I thought we weren’t gonna find you before it was too late.”

“But you did.”

“Barely.”

“Doesn't matter. You saved me.”

You moved forwards, hugging Hannibal as best you could. His hand wrapped around you, keeping your body against him. You let out a relieved sigh, slowly lifting your face so you could look at him. You stared at him for a moment before inching your face closer to his. You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Hannibal tugged you to him, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away. He smiled against your lips.

“When can I get out of here?”

“The doctor said he would release you tonight.”

“Good. I owe you dinner.”

You’d tried your hardest to keep your hands off of Hannibal. You wanted to show him you could control yourself, even though every inch of you screamed to tug him over the counter and kiss him. You focused on cutting up your tomatoes, steeling yourself to pay attention. You had been doing just fine but then Hannnibal had moved over to you, his hands wrapping around your waist. He nipped at your neck as his hands moved to splay against your stomach. He tugged you into him causing you to gasp as you felt the outline of his dick push against you.

“I can’t hold on anymore. I thought I could make it through dinner but I was wrong.”

He leaned to whisper against your ear.

“I need you now.”

You placed the knife you had been holding down, turning around so you could face Hannibal. You tugged his collar, moving to give him a fierce kiss. Hannibal squeezed your ass, biting at your lip before  prodding his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues tangled together as you moved to toy with his zipper. Hannibal's hand moved to pull your pants down, tugging them until they were completely off your body. He shoved his hand into your underwear, causing you to gasp against his mouth. He pushed his fingers inside you, moving them in and out for a moment. You gripped onto his shoulder, biting into your lip as he fingered you. Hannibal's free hand moved to tug at his pants. He pulled his boxers down enough to free his dick. He removed his hand from inside you, making you whine at the loss. Hannibal moved your underwear to the side before gazing up at you.

“This okay?”

You nodded at him, watching as he began to guide his dick inside you. Both of you moaned as he entered you. You threw your head back, causing Hannibal to latch his lips onto your neck. He groaned against your skin, hips snapping into your. You moved to wrap your legs around him. Hannibal hands dug into the flesh of your ass as he continued to pound into you. Your arms flailed around as you tried to grab onto him. 

“Fuck Hannibal.”

“Ah-shit- perfect fucking girl.”

Hannibal moved over to a clear counter, allowing him to lay you down. His hands moved to either side of your body, palms gripping onto the counter as he caged you. The new position allowed Hannibal to move against you at a quicker pace. Your body moved against the counter as Hannibal continued to fuck into you. Your walls fluttered around him as your orgasm approached. Hannibal leaned down to kiss you, giving you one last powerful thrust before spilling into you. He could tell you were close, his hand moving to toy with your clit. Soon you were seeing stars, your juices spilling against Hannibal's dick. 

Hannibal pulled out of you before tugging you off the counter. You adjusted your underwear grabbing a towel to clean up before pulling your pants back on. You washed your hands before moving back to where you had been. You continued to chop the tomatoes as if nothing had happened but every once in a while you’d glance over at Hannibal. He met your gaze giving you a smile that told you this was just the start.

Maybe Baltimore wasn’t so bad.

[pesky--dust]

Do you believe Will orchestrated the escape? Was he intending to flee with Hannibal or was he genuinely planning to kill him?

First of all, I think that Will is a character whose behavior we cannot predict - just like Hannibal said.

In the first season, Will was vulnerable, but in the second season, he started manipulating people to get what he wanted, and he told Alana and Hannibal that he was an unreliable narrator of his own story. And I believe that this is true throughout the series, to a greater or lesser extent.

In The Wrath of the Lamb Dolarhyde attacked Will in a motel. Will was aware that Dolarhyde wanted to meet Dr. Lecter, Dolarhyde himself told him so! And this scene, according to the script, ends with the following words:

CABAL. The synonym for this word is intrigue.

So I believe that Will decided to use Dolarhyde to free Hannibal, knowing now that since Hannibal loves him and Will plays it right, Hannibal will do whatever Will asks him to do.

So yes... I believe it was orchestrated by Will to some extent.

However, was he intending to flee with Hannibal or was he genuinely planning to kill him?

That's a good question! And I will repeat what I have already written: I think that we cannot predict Will's behaviour. In Mizumono he called Hannibal at the last minute and was not sure what to do until the very end and in The Wrath of the Lamb Will tells Bedelia, "Decisions are made of kneaded feelings. They're more often a lump than a sum". It is what actually drives him.

I think he wasn't sure how this escape would turn out. Would Dolarhyde kill Hannibal? Both of them? Or would Hannibal kill Dolarhyde and him? Maybe just Dolarhyde? Or maybe he'll just leave the FBI's dirty work and not get his hands dirty in the process?

And so, another pillar of this series is curiosity. I believe that apart from his feelings, Will was also guided by his curiosity about what would happen. In my opinion, there was no grand plan. "Everything that can happen happens. Has to end well, and it has to end badly. Has to end every way it can", "If everything that can happen happens, you can't really do the wrong thing. You're just doing what you're supposed to do" (Primavera).

[EDIT, because I forgot to write about something I find important]

In ... and the Beast from the Sea, Will tells Hannibal, "I'm not Fortune's fool, I'm yours". "I'm Fortune's fool" comes from Romeo and Juliet. It's about acceptance of the fact that you have no control over your life, because everything is up to fate; Will tells Hannibal that he is his fate and so he accepts it. And in the very next episode Will finds out that Hannibal in fact loves him.

In The Wrath of the Lamb, when Will comes to Hannibal to ask him to be a bait, in his memory palace, he stands on the skull engraved in the floor, where years ago Hannibal left him his broken heart. Will accepts Hannibal's heart now and chooses him, with all its consequences, not knowing what would happen.

[END OF EDIT]

And in The Wrath of the Lamb, Will tells Reba that Francis couldn't watch her die. When Dolarhyde shot Hannibal, Will reached for his gun. I think that both curiosity and his own feelings made him want to protect Hannibal and kill Dolarhyde in this very moment.

His feelings after killing Dolarhyde caused him to throw himself and Hannibal off the cliff (personally, I think the fall didn't happen at all and is just a metaphor, but that's a topic for another post), knowing that he would never feel better.

This answer turned out to be longer than I thought, so tl;dr:

Yes, Will orchestrated the escape.

Will is driven by his feelings, curiosity and whims (as Chilton said in Hassun), so I think that he didn't have any bigger plan than freeing Hannibal and see what would happen and then ended up being driven by his feelings. So I would say that he neither planned to run away with Hannibal nor to kill him. He was acting on the spur of the moment. If Hannibal killed Dolarhyde? Great, one serial killer down. If Hannibal had killed both Dolarhyde and Will? Okay, they're finally free from each other. If Dolarhyde had killed him and Hannibal? Finally it was all over. But Dolarhyde killing Hannibal? Oh no, Will couldn't bear to look at it.

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth, chapter 11

chapter eleven: metamorphosis

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no physical descriptors or pronouns are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is chapter 11, act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read act 1 or chapters 1-10, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: typical stuff (gore, violence, death)

Frederick Chilton’s mangled visage stares at you, a cavernous abyss extending across the left side of his face. There’s blood carving a path down his face and dribbling from his lips. Somehow, you can sense the damp darkness of the room he was confined in; if you close your eyes, you can feel the unsettling mix of fear and dread that stewed in Frederick’s chest. 

Jack pauses the tape and places the television remote down with a bit more force than necessary. You share in his distress and frustration, even though it feels as if you shouldn’t. After all, you were the one to issue Frederick Chilton’s death sentence. You painted a target on his back… and the Tooth Fairy deftly shot him down. 

You decide to play the tape once more, only to find that there’s something reflected in Frederick’s eyes—mere moments before the video stutters to black. Jack and you send for forensic investigation, and they manage to return with a blown-up version of the image: a mirror of what Frederick saw in his last moments. There’s a dark figure standing before him, evidently the Tooth Fairy. And behind the figure is a yellowish-grey painting. You spend hours attempting to match the image to a work of art, before you finally identify it as The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun.  

From there, Jack and you attempt to do some research on the painting—but you don’t come up with anything substantial. After all, it’s difficult to ascertain exactly why the work of art appeared. Did the killer place it there purposefully? Does he see himself in it, somehow? The two of you trade ideas and brainstorm for a long time, before eventually coming up to a brick wall as your investigation shudders to a halt. 

In the coming days, you read all you can on the painting. You learn more about the artist, William Blake; and you read scholarly articles on the different interpretations of the work. But nothing brings you closer to the killer you’re attempting to track down. 

It’s only inevitable, you suppose, that you find yourself standing in front of Hannibal Lecter’s cell once more, the videotape in one hand and a newspaper article in the other as you brace yourself for whatever is to come. You can never truly prepare yourself for these conversations with Hannibal; you always leave feeling overwhelmed and emotionally drained. Keeping yourself afloat in his mind games takes a lot of energy, as does encoding the true meaning behind his often ambiguous phrasing. 

You greet Hannibal and he returns the sentiment, placing his book down and leveling you with an intent gaze. Something flickers across his face and he takes a slow breath. “You need to change your bandage,” he says moments later. 

You instinctually pull up your sleeve to catch a glimpse of the bandage you quickly plastered to the cut on your forearm. Sure enough, there’s a dark crimson stain slowly seeping through the fabric. You sigh and roll up your sleeve, not desiring to get blood on your shirt. You do the same with the other sleeve to make the choice look a little more intentional, before staring at Hannibal. He seems to be awaiting a response. “...Thank you,” you decide to indulge him, if only to ensure your later success. 

Hannibal nods. He clasps his hands and stares at you with an infuriatingly empty expression. Then, a polite smile works its way onto his face. That grin has a deceivingly sharp edge. Dread has made a home in your chest now. “I have something you need,” he says, acknowledging the tense truth that has been hanging in the air since you arrived. “You have something I desire. It appears a trade is in order.” 

Hannibal isn’t usually the one to initiate conversation so directly. That sends off a giant blaring alarm in your head. Yet you don’t really have a choice in the matter. Perhaps he even knows that, and is taking advantage of your desperation for more information. 

You grit your teeth and place a piece of paper in the tray. You knew Hannibal would demand something of significance from you, so you came prepared. The TattleCrime article Freddie Lounds wrote about Chilton and you—the trap you set for the Tooth Fairy—lies neglected in the vestibule nestled in Hannibal’s cell for several seconds. Then, as if snapped from a trance, Hannibal stares at it with interest. 

It’s now or never. Your hands are shaking at your sides. There’s no going back from here. You’re about to cross a line you cannot come back from. “Frederick Chilton was kidnapped by the Tooth Fairy,” you begin. Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth. You don’t want to utter the remaining words: he’s dead. And, somehow, it doesn't seem like you have to. Hannibal seems to comprehend your intended meaning, as he takes in the article set before him and evidently notices the way you drew attention to Chilton in the photograph.

His subsequent reaction is frightening. His lips turn upward, his eyes gleam, and you swear that Hannibal looks hungry . You take a cautious half-step backward, not feeling very secure despite the thick glass that maintains the barricade between you both. The scar along your face—the one he so carefully broke open again, to remind you just who you were up against— burns under his heated gaze. 

Hannibal is standing now; his faux disinterest has been abandoned. “You killed him,” he states, a note of some complex emotion in his voice. You feel sick to your stomach. You’re disgusted with yourself, disgusted that you thought it pertinent to tell Hannibal something that has been weighing so heavily on your conscience. He does not deserve to be privy to this information. He is not a confidant, nor is he your psychiatrist any longer. Hannibal is merely a criminal, a killer. And here you are, giving him information that could ruin your career and ensure that you never see the light of day again. 

“I… did,” you mutter. You don’t realize you utter that statement aloud until you see Hannibal’s gaze snap up to you with fervent intensity. You swallow past the trepidation burning your throat. Your fists clench at your sides in an attempt to abate your restless energy. “Is that enough?” You demand, exhausted with the silence that frequently dominates the air between you. 

Hannibal’s smile is lopsided and nausea-inducing—an indulgent display. “You don’t know your worth.” He says, his eyes glittering dangerously. The gravity of your actions is starting to catch up with you now. You were so desperate for information on the Tooth Fairy that you gave Hannibal unquestionably powerful ammunition against you. And there is no telling if—when—he will reveal it. At his remark, you remain silent. You did what had to be done. So why do you feel so disgusted with yourself? 

“Your turn,” you then remark, manifesting a smooth confidence that you certainly don’t possess. You cross your arms over your chest. 

“May I keep this?” Dr. Lecter asks. You know he’s not really asking—he’s just maintaining the pretense to give you the false notion that you actually have control in this conversation. You don’t have an ounce of control. He knows that, as he rips the newspaper cleanly along the edges of the photo. To your confusion, he doesn’t keep the article—just the photo of Chilton and you. When you squint, you realize that he’s ripped the photo down the middle, effectively separating you from Chilton. Hannibal then places the newspaper back in the tray. You bite your lip and warily wait for him to step back, before grabbing the newspaper. Surely enough, you’re cleanly ripped from the photo. Chilton and the text of the article remain. Hannibal places the photo of you on his desk, without breaking eye contact as he does so. Unnerved, you attempt to continue the conversation. It’s his turn to give you something, after all. 

“I’d like you to watch this tape,” you request. For a long stretch of time, there’s nothing to occupy the quiet air. Then, Hannibal hums in evident agreement. Equal amounts of relief and fear run through your chest. Before you can regret it, you’re tugging the hospital’s projector close to the clear partition around Hannibal’s cell and sitting down. Hannibal pulls up his own chair and sits at the edge of the boundary, watching as you set up the film. 

You press play and the staticky audio of the recording fills the space. Something churns in your chest as you are faced with incontrovertible evidence of your role in Chilton’s death. Suddenly distressed, you remember to turn and watch Hannibal. But the man’s eyes aren’t on the screen—he’s watching you instead.

Somehow, everything that occurred within the past few months (years) comes to fruition in a dizzying maelstrom of emotions. You can see flickers of your victims in the shadows lining the walls; you can hear their voices as you try and fail to listen to the videotape. Frederick Chilton joins the fray, his painfully familiar voice only stirring more emotion within you. 

Chilton was manipulative and greedy, sure. But that doesn’t mean he deserved to die. What made you the authority on such things? Your self-righteousness dictated that he somehow deserved that fate: being kidnapped and tortured, before being burned alive. 

It was just a hand on his shoulder… right? No. You knew what you were doing. That gesture was entirely tactical. You were more than aware that the Tooth Fairy would be scrutinizing the article and the accompanying image, looking for someone to blame. You made Frederick Chilton your scapegoat, because you were too cowardly to take responsibility for your cruel words. 

You’ve been hiding behind the looming threat of the Tooth Fairy. But in your hunt to catch a killer, you became one. You became the very same evil you dedicated your life to extinguishing. When was the last time you took a moment to truly contemplate your actions—to stare right back at the monster in the mirror? 

“You seem distressed.”

You blink past burning eyes and stare ahead at the wall, attempting to keep your composure. You’ve already seen the recording, but there’s something about the accountability of Hannibal’s gaze—the weight of his knowing stare—that makes the reality of your crimes set in. 

Before you can think of the consequences, you’re burying your head in your hands. Tears are slipping down your face; you’re curling in on yourself, in a futile attempt to just disappear. You know you shouldn’t be showing any kind of vulnerability in front of Hannibal, not when he can weaponize it so deftly. But your thoughts all came to a screeching halt when you noticed his eyes on you, as if attempting to discern your motivations. 

“Reportedly, the first kill is the hardest,” Hannibal states calmly. Is this his attempt at comforting you?  You don’t have time to contemplate the thought, before he’s continuing to speak. “But that wasn’t your first, was it?” The remark is casual and pointed all the same. Not for the first time, you feel anger rising within you at his detached observation. You want nothing more than to silence him, but you’re brutally aware of the precarious nature of this situation. One wrong word… and any intel Hannibal may have will slip down the drain. You have to navigate this very carefully, so you stifle any harsh words and remain silent. 

“You and I aren’t so different,” Hannibal then says. The fluorescent lighting above sends a drilling hum through your ears. You’re suddenly painfully aware of every minute sensation running through your body: the discomfort of the metal chair you pulled up for yourself; the goosebumps prickling along your arms, from the frigidity of the hall; the bloodied wound on your forearm, leaking through the bandage and occasionally throbbing to remind you of its existence. It’s all too much. Pushing aside all these feelings to comprehend Hannibal’s statement takes far longer than it should. 

“I’m not like you.” You say. The argument sounds flimsy, even to your own ears. You both know it. 

“You are,” Hannibal maintains. His gaze hasn’t left your form for several minutes. You feel like a bug under a microscope. It doesn’t matter where you crawl or how you writhe—he is still watching with rapt attention. “And it frightens you beyond belief.”

Something ticks in your jaw. “You don’t frighten me,” you insist. It’s a lie. Hannibal is incredibly unpredictable and that scares you. It scares you that, even with the years of history between you, you haven’t uncovered his motives, desires, or true feelings. You’re no closer to figuring him out than you were when you first met. Everything about him is a veneer. 

“But the darkness frightens you,” Hannibal remarks. His hands are clasped and he crosses one leg over the other, ever the picture of elegant composure. The air almost seems to buzz and ring through the silence. The glass partition between the two of you is rendered inconsequential under his gaze. “It beckons you ever closer. You are slowly but surely giving into it, answering its siren call.”

You grit your teeth. Truthfully, you don’t know what to say—and you don’t trust yourself to speak. Your voice will surely betray your true thoughts. As if acknowledging this, Hannibal inclines his head with a smile. “Your thread is worn thin,” he murmurs. “It will soon snap.”

You’re biting the inside of your cheek now, desperate for something to ground you to reality and keep you from lashing out. There has been a steady anger boiling within you ever since the two of you first met. It only grows in moments like these, when Hannibal pokes and prods at you. “I will be there when you break.”

“I won’t break.” You force the statement past your lips, in an effort that feels unusually difficult. “And that’s not something you can promise.” 

“Maybe not.” Hannibal acquiesces, that infuriatingly knowing smile rising on his lips once more. The sight never fails to unnerve you. 

“You’ve distracted me,” you realize aloud. Hannibal only raises a brow. “We were talking about the tape.” You glance at the television pointedly. 

“Were we?” Hannibal muses. You have to put conscious effort into suppressing your irritation. Hannibal knows exactly what he’s doing. This feigned ignorance is only wasting time. And while he has ample time to mess around with, confined in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, you don’t have that same luxury.  

“Yes.” You say persistently.

“What do you think, so far?” Hannibal asks. 

He’s trying to divert you again. You decide to let it happen. Sometimes, you get more information from him through his reactions. Hannibal is rarely the one to willingly divulge, after all. “I think the killer’s very purposeful in his actions,” you eventually settle for saying. You think back to the tape, to the darkness that creeped through the corners, to the demands the killer made of Chilton. “He is… seeking transformation,” You break off, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you remember what Frederick went through at the killer’s hand. “Especially when considering the painting displayed behind him—The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun, I think it was.”

“Yes, I’m familiar.” Hannibal hums. You resist an eye roll at that. You shouldn’t have expected any less from him. 

“I think the killer holds a certain reverence for that painting,” you continue relentlessly. “Perhaps he even sees himself in it.” It all makes a twisted sort of sense. After all, the killer doesn’t view himself as a man. He views himself as a god. 

“It sounds as if you have a good idea already,” Hannibal admits. He paces around his cell. To the untrained eye, it would appear as if he were restless or nervous. But you can see through the pretense of the gesture. You’re struggling to focus as you watch his constant movement—and, you begin to realize, that very well may be the point. “In which case, I have to wonder why you’re here.”

“It’s just an idea, unfortunately,” you remember to respond. “Jack is desperate for information—we all are.”

“Ah, Jack,” Hannibal says, a fickle smile rising on his lips. You can’t quite elucidate Hannibal’s thoughts on Jack. The two of them are far from friends, but Hannibal seems to hold a begrudging sense of respect for your boss. Jack, on the other hand, is unsettled by Hannibal—but with similar reluctance, he recognizes that Hannibal has expertise no one else may have. The two of them are stuck in a strange sort of truce—there’s almost a symbiotic relationship between them. “How is he doing? How is his wife?”

“Bella?” You ask confusedly. The emotion is leaking through your voice before you can stop it. Why would Hannibal be bringing her up? “Why do you ask?”

“He hasn’t told you?” Hannibal asks innocently. There’s an unspeakable malice lingering behind that polite mask of his. It’s clear he’s trying to provoke you. “Bella is dying of cancer.”

You stare at him in disbelief. That’s the first time you’re hearing of anything related to Bella’s health. Is it true? It must be... After all, it can be easily fact-checked: you could simply walk up to Jack and ask him. That wouldn’t be necessary, though. You know Hannibal is telling the truth. And despite the man’s hostile intentions, you can’t help but feel betrayed at the thought of Jack keeping secrets from you. Why wouldn’t he have told you? 

You force yourself to stay silent as you process what Hannibal just said, eventually managing to set it aside for future contemplation. When you finally break through the silence, you’re calm and composed. “That was a rather flagrant attempt at creating tension between me and Jack,” you state. “You’re usually more subtle.”

Hannibal lets out a choking sound. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the noise as a laugh. You’re not sure how long it’s been since you’ve heard him laugh. “Thank you,” Hannibal says, his eyes still sparkling with amusement. “I find that little amuses these days.”

You squint at him. Your conversation today is very disjointed and unorganized. You have to wonder if Hannibal is drawing it out on purpose. He must not get very many chances at socializing behind these walls. Perhaps he’s taking advantage of the opportunity. 

“I haven’t forgotten,” you feel the need to remind him, when he doesn’t exhibit any desire to continue the conversation. “I’d like to hear what you think.” I think I deserve that much, you don’t say. You meet Hannibal’s gaze head-on, nonverbally compelling him to speak.

Hannibal is quiet for a few seconds. “His Becoming is something beyond our explanation,” he reasons. “It can only be described as… a sort of consumption. I suspect his true self—or what little remains of it—will be eradicated upon the completion of the process.” You dissect his words in your mind, as one particular term catches your attention. 

Consumption. Consumption. Sure, Hannibal means it in a figurative sense. But what if the killer’s obsession were to manifest in a more literal sense? The only way for the man to complete his transformation would be through consumption. The painting would be a part of him, inextricably connected to his very being. 

You think you have the answer now. Reinvigorated, you gather your things and look to Hannibal, who has been patiently waiting for your response. “Thank you, Hannibal,” you finally say. It’s far easier than you expect to summon some gratitude. For the first time, you feel as if you’re close to the Tooth Fairy—or, more accurately, the Red Dragon. 

Hannibal smiles, something akin to pride gleaming in his eyes. You catch yourself smiling back and quickly stop; unfortunately, you suspect he noticed anyway. Sensing your eagerness to depart and return to investigation, Hannibal bids you farewell. 

“Goodnight, darling,” Hannibal says. A shiver rolls down your spine. “It is very hard to part with you, but goodnight.”

Feeling weirdly off-kilter, you bid him goodnight before leaving the institution. You resolutely pretend not to notice Hannibal watching you as you leave. And confined behind glass walls, Hannibal pretends not to notice how invigorated he feels after your conversations.

next chapter

endnotes: Hannibal's last bit of dialogue ("Goodnight, darling...") is from Carmilla.

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[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

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a/n: this is such a filler chapter, and it's also terrible, and i hate it.

While you knew the Odinsons, you didn’t know the full extent of their history. That is until you made it home from the dance, and your sister demanded you tell her about your rendevous with Thor. You were so exhausted you could barely get the answers she yearned for.

Lady Frigga, the mother of Thor and Loki, was originally a lady of the ton but married Odin, a Prince of Norway at the time. After Frigga’s passing, Odin moved the family back to London in honor of her spirit. You found it surprisingly romantic. 

You awoke late the following day, finding the night before's events tiring. Social situations constantly exhaust you. Going through your closet, you put on a green gown, ignoring any help that could be given to you. You resented having someone else dress you. You were so in your own head as you bounded down the stairs to your sitting room that you barely noticed the man taking up space on the couch. 

“Your Highness,” you bowed, eyes wide as Thor sat up to greet you with a bright smile. Your Grandmother was perched on one of the other setees, an excited sparkle in her eyes. Oh, how you wished to squash that gleam. 

“Lady Chilton, how do you fare this morning?” Thor asked, hands clasped behind his back. He was ridiculously tall, and you had to tilt your head to take him in. 

“Well, I wasn’t taken in my sleep, so I would hazard that I’m doing well,” I said, taking slight glee at the glare my Grandmother shot me. Thor let out a hearty laugh, though. 

“I’m glad you are still in our presence,” Thor answered earnestly. “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the races today?”

“Races?” You dared a glance toward your grandmother before looking back at Thor’s icy blue eyes. You clasped your hands before answering. “Absolutely. That sounds wonderful.” Thor perked up at your answer, as did your grandmother. 

“Splendid, do you need a second before we leave?” he asked. You shook your head no, letting yourself be ushered out with his hand on the small of your back. You didn’t bother looking back at your grandmother; you knew she would be ecstatic. 

Of course, the carriage that Thor showed up in was immaculate, and he helped you into one of the seats. You settled yourself, adjusting your skirt as Thor joined you in the carriage and closed the door. Your hands sat in your lap, anxiously twiddling your thumbs. 

“Have you been to the races before?” Thor inquired. 

“Heavens, no,” you chuckled, catching yourself. Your insubordination was going to get you in trouble someday. Thor seemed to find it charming, though, so he just laughed. “I prefer a good book.”

“So does my brother,” Thor sighed, glancing out the window. The sounds of the ton and nature were fast approaching, and the mention of Loki changed your mood. He was an enigma to you, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “We’ve arrived.”

You glance out the window, taking in the scenery. The races were held near the lake, with green pastures surrounding its perimeter. Many members of society were there, and the available men were already courting some eligible ladies. Pastel colors and parasols obscured much of the natural sites you would’ve loved to see. Still, maybe you’d have time later. 

A light conversation occurred between you and Thor as he led the way to the stadium. He was attentive to your words, asking probing questions that let you know he was listening. Unfortunately, you didn’t have much in common. Still, he was kind. He respected that you weren’t a ‘typical’ lady of the ton. If you had to marry, it wouldn’t be a wrong choice. 

The truth was, you had yet to learn how races worked. You had the general idea, but you had never attended one. Thor seemed excited, so you tried your best to adopt his enthusiasm. Unfortunately, your seat had to be next to his brother's. 

“What brings the fair lady out to join us today?” Loki coos, a teasing tone evident. You rolled your eyes as you and Thor approached. Thor left to place his bet, giving you a second alone with the raven-haired prince.

“Your brother invited me,” you smile, tilting your head. 

“Looks like you found someone who enjoys your wit,” Loki says, looking out over the fields slightly teasingly. You bristle, eyes narrowing. 

“If only you could find someone who enjoys yours,” you mumble. Loki looks at you through narrowed eyes, biting his tongue as Thor returns. 

“Apologies for the delay, m’lady,” Thor says, leaning down to your height. “Hope you were able to stay entertained.”

“Conversation could be better, but otherwise, I’m fine,” you glanced at Loki, raising your eyebrows in amusement. He crossed his arms, indifferent. Thor chuckled, leading you to your seats. 

The race was about to start, and all the horses and their riders lined up. At this point, the event was beginning to feel like a Venetian breakfast– way too long. Like all the other sensible ladies, you wished you had brought a fan to stave off the heat. That would mean conforming, though, something you never excelled at. You found yourself much more interested in the race than you thought. When the horses took off, you were on the edge of your seat. One would pull in front of the other, then fall behind. You found yourself rooting for the grey-dappled horse; something quiet about its demeanor drew you in. It would’ve won; you believed that if it wasn’t for the Palmano next to it that distracted your chosen horse enough that it ended up only placing second. 

“Oh, come on!” you exclaim, standing up in a huff as the stadium erupts in cheers or disappointment.  “That was–”

“Perposterous,” Loki finished your sentence, indignation in his tone. You made eye contact, resenting the way his green eyes made your heart skip a beat. 

“What’s wrong?” Thor asked, concerned but still joyful. 

“That wasn’t very sportsmanlike,” you mumble to him, brows furrowed. 

“Life isn’t always fair,” Thor says. “Sometimes what we think is right isn’t always.”

“Sounds like something that a man who just won a race would say,” Loki sighs, sprawling out in his seat. You hide a hint of a smile, refusing to acknowledge either brother's words. 

“You two are too similar,” Thor huffs, causing you to chuckle. Too similar or too obstinate, you couldn’t tell. You did know, though…you didn’t want to spend more time with Loki.

taglist: @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief

[bubbles-is-hardcore]

I feel like we don’t talk enough about how absolutely fucked Dr Fredrick Chilton’s fate is in Hannibal.

He is the “Cassandra” of the show! For those who don’t know the myth of Cassandra is basically about a woman who was cursed by Apollo to be able to see correct prophecies about the future but she would never be believed and suffer for it.

My man Chilton was telling everyone “prophecies” that ended up being true from the jump and no one believed him! Then he got absolutely bodied every season!

He called it that Will had the mentality and capacity to be a serial killer in season one. He got mutilated by another killer.

He told everyone Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper when Will was still in prison in season two. He gets framed as the Ripper and shot in the face.

He told Alana and Will that he thought the plan to goat the tooth fairy was a bad idea until they talked him into it in season three. He gets his lips ripped off and set on fire.

Every time that man spoke a fact, he got GOT!

AND HE SURVIVED IT ALL!

Let’s hear it for the MVP of the “Fuck Hannibal (derogatory) Squad” !

[notebookmusical]

books read in 2024!

books read so far: 99/100

— gr: http://goodreads.com/cossettereads — sg: https://app.thestorygraph.com/profile/cossettereads

as always, askbox + dms are open if have any questions or would like to chat about books! 🤍

⊹ indicates any (new) favorites of the month! previous months are under the cut!

november ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ

1) shoot your shot by lexi lafleur brown (arc)

january ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

1) beach read by emily henry (reread) 2) on palestine by noam chomsky & ilan pappé 3) valley verified by kyla zhao (gifted) 4) the wind at my back: resilience, grace, and other gifts from my mentor, raven wilkinson by misty copeland & susan fales-hill (gifted) 5) check please: year one by ngozi ukazu (reread) 6) check please: year two by ngozi ukazu (reread) 7) check please: year three by ngozi ukazu (reread) 8) check please: year four by ngozi ukazu (reread) 9) raiders of the lost heart by jo segura (gifted) 10) the frame-up by gwenda bond (arc) 11) everything i never told you by celeste ng ⊹ 12) forgive me not by jennifer baker (gifted) 13) ever after always by chloe liese (gifted) 14) the summer of bitter and sweet by jen ferguson (gifted) 15) the lily of ludgate hill by mimi matthews (gifted) 16) last call at the local by sarah grunder ruiz (gifted) ⊹ 17) the sun and the void by gabriela romero-lacruz (gifted) 18) a line in the dark by malinda lo (gifted) 19) biting the hand: growing up asian in black and white america by julia lee (gifted) 20) play it as it lays by joan didion

february ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

1) mister hockey by lia riley * 2) collide by bal khabra (arc) * 3) a curious beginning by deanna raybourn (gifted) 4) breaking the ice by k.r. collins * 5) if only you by chloe liese (gifted) * 6) anxious people by frederik backman ⊹ 7) the catch by amy lea (gifted) 8) weekends with you by alexandra paige (arc) 9) happily never after by lynn painter (arc) 10) klara and the sun by kazuo ishiguro 11) good material by dolly alderton 12) in the event this doesn't fall apart by shannon lee barry 13) the night ends with fire (arc) by k.x. song 14) the good, the bad, and the aunties (arc) by jesse q. sutanto 15) where sleeping girls lie (arc) by faridah àbíké-íyímídé 16) sophomore surge by k.r. collins * 17) lighting the lamp by k.r. collins * 18) glove save and a beauty by k.r. collins * 19) home ice advantage by k.r. collins * 20) power play by k.r. collins * 21) grounded by k.r. collins * 22) line chemistry by k.r. collins *

march ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

1) happy medium by sarah adler (arc) 2) a darker shade of magic by v.e. schwab (audiobook) 3) expiration dates by rebecca serle (arc) 4) divine rivals by rebecca ross (book club) 5) the siren by katherine st. john (gifted) 6) light in gaza edited by jehad abusalim 7) how to end a love story by yulin kuang (arc) // reviewed here 8) rising from the deep: the seattle kraken, a tenacious push for expansion, and the emerald city's sports revival by geoff baker 9) les misérables by victor hugo (reread)

april ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

1) the goodbye cat by hiro arikawa (reread) 2) the traveling cat chronicles by hiro arikawa (reread) 3) this is me trying by racquel marie (arc) 4) kill her twice by stacey lee (arc) 5) the pairing by casey mcquiston (arc) 6) swiped by l.m. chilton (arc) 7) lies and weddings by kevin kwan (arc) 8) the odyssey by homer (audiobook)

may ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

1) this summer will be different by carley fortune (arc) 2) the viscount who loved me by julia quinn (reread) 3) romancing mister bridgerton by julia quinn (reread) 4) the iliad by homer (narrated by audra mcdonald) (audiobook) 5) a novel love story by ashley poston (arc) 6) when he was wicked by julia quinn (reread) 7) a banh mi for two by trinity nguyen (arc) 8) the secret garden by frances hodgson burnett (audiobook)

june ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ

1) lessons in chemistry by bonnie garmus 2) the phantom of the opera by gaston leroux (audiobook) 3) you, with a view by jessica joyce 4) s. by j.j. abrams & doug dorst 5) the hunchback of the notre dame (audiobook) A

july ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ

1) firekeeper's daughter by angeline boulley (audiobook) ⊹ 2) born to run by bruce springsteen (audiobook) 3) it had to be you by eliza jane brazier 4) the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald (reread; annotated) 5) death on the nile by agatha christie (audiobook) 6) blue sisters by coco mellors (arc) ⊹ 7) juniper and thorn by ava reid (audiobook) 8) the villain edit by laurie devore ⊹

august ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ

1) a study in drowning by ava reid (audiobook) 2) just for the summer by abby jimenez 3) the match by sarah adams (audiobook)

september ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ

1) the glitch by leeanne slade (audiobook) 2) howl’s moving castle by diana wynne jones (traveling book club; annotated) 3) how to kill your family by bella mackie (audiobook) 4) everyone i kissed since you got famous by mae marvel (audiobook) 5) blue sisters by coco mellors (reread, annotation) 6) mott street: a chinese american family's story of exclusion and homecoming by ava chin ⊹ 7) confronting the racist legacy of the american child welfare system: the case for abolition by alan j. dettlaff 8) jane eyre by charlotte brontë

october ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ

1) anne of green gables by l.m. montgomery 2) intermezzo by sally rooney 3) razzle dazzle: the battle for broadway by michael riedel 4) designing broadway: how derek mclane and other acclaimed set designers create the visual world of theatre by derek mclane and eila mell 5) summer in the city by alex aster (arc) 6) rebecca by daphne du maurier (audiobook) ⊹

[ghoastixx]

Hey,

do you still write for Hannibal Lecter? If you, could you write a yanderw Hannibal x fem!nurse one-shot, where she was one of the few nice people in the hospital. She helped him/showed sympathy for the way Chilton was treating him. After he broke out, he searches for her, but she is still a little afraid of him.(maybe with nsfw?)

Hannibal x fem!nurse reader

Synopsis above

Notes: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!!! I'm so excited to write for this??? I am hyper fixating HARD on all of the Hannibal series right now.. movies, show, and I'm waiting to get the books. Currently I'm still on season one of the show. I'm so happy to write this!? I probably won't do nsfw in this because my account is a relatively safe place for minors, but I will do kissing and teasing etc. Just not straight smut. But thank you so much for requesting!??!?!

Author's note: I have never written for Hannibal before so I'm sorry if this isn't very well done. By the request mentioning he's already locked away and he gets out, I'm going to write this as "The Silence of the Lambs" time line, which is great because it's my personal favorite of the Hannibal movies.

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

You..are quite the interesting thing.. aren't you? You work in this hospital full of crazy people, you tend to them, hell you care for them. You treat them with humanity. Why do you do it? Don't you understand where you are? Who these people are? Maybe you're too innocent, little lamb. Or maybe you are just too stupid and naive to understand.

Hannibal thought you were interesting. He watched with sharp eyes as you worked, as he waited his turn in your presence.

"Come on Lecter, you're up." A guard mumbles as he walked him in. With the guards around and the doctor's muzzle on, his hands restrained.. no one viewed him a threat at the moment.

As he was walked in, his eyes fell on you again. You were putting away bandages and rags, working quietly.

"Ma'am," The guard spoke up, causing you to turn and look at the pair.

"yes, sorry- please sit him down on my table." You finished what you were doing as you walked over, the guard standing in the corner. Not getting in your way.

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter, am I right?" Your words were soft as they fell from your lips. Something he was not used to.

"Yes. You are?"

"Nurse L/N. You may call me Y/N. Less formal, but more comfortable." You smiled as you checked a clipboard. "So, you have hurt your arm, doctor? Can you tell me what happened?"

"Cut it on the tray passing notes with a detective."

"I see," You mutter as you lift his arm. Your skin is soft..if only he couldn't smell the metal of his muzzle.. he can only imagine what you would smell like...taste like. "I understand your 'room' is made of glass.. so your tray is pure metal.. yes, I see how this could cut you." The way you called his cell a room instead of what it was was curious to him.

"More of a cage than anything," He states as he watches you gather materials. "Are you going to stitch me up, nurse?" You hummed as you walked back over.

"Yes, hold together the wound. It will be less likely to get infected.. But you probably already knew that-" You answered sheepishly. So you knew of his past and what he used to do for profession. You didn't diminish his knowledge. He liked that. "Please tell me if it's hurting you. I can give you pain killers." And you began. You worked with precision. You weren't sloppy with your work, it seems you actually cared about healing his arm.

"Thank you, nurse." he would say once you were done.

"You're very welcome, doctor Lecter. I will see you in two weeks to take the stitches out. Until then, the guards will supply you with painkillers to try and help with the irritation." Very polite.

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

He didn't think much of the encounter with you, not with agent Starling trying to get information out of him. Doctor Chilton had been holding the pain killers hostage, claiming he didn't deserve them as some sort of torment. He didn't have reason to think about the mere nurse.

That was until he heard footsteps coming down the hallway with coos and catcalls. Disgusting behavior, he thought. How they treated agent Starling was disappointing. This was his thought until he noticed that the woman who stopped infant of his cell was not agent Starling, but a nurse instead..You.

"Hello Doctor Lecter," your sweet voice was pleasant to his ears.

"Nurse Y/N," he remembered, "It has not yet been two weeks."

"Yes, I am very aware. But it was recently brought to my attention that Doctor Chilton has not been giving you the pain killers I proscribed. I am very sorry, Doctor Lecter. I was not aware until now," You spoke, as you pushed the pills into the tray with a small cup of water. He looked at them and then took a step closer to the glass, breathing deeply.

"You wear a sweet scented lotion, flowery perfume. Citrus shampoo." You looked up at him a little sheepishly.

"Ah- yes. I like..sweeter smells.. I suppose." Hannibal looked down at the pills you had come all this way to give him before he took them. They were mediocre, of course. Not enough to overdose on.

"Thank you, nurse Y/N. You are a very kind soul. Tell me, do you know why I am in here?"

"Well- yes, doctor Lecter. I am aware."

"Then why have you treated me with such kindness?"

"You're still a human, are you not? You have done despicable things, but I would not feel right letting you suffer under my watch."

As you left, he heard the disgusting things thrown at you from men down the way.

He decided right then that you were worth keeping around.

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

Hannibal waited patiently to see you again. You never came back with the pills again, they were now delivered regularly by a male guard. The two week mark came by when he was allowed to see you again. He asked you questions as you worked. He wanted to get to know you. Wanted to know what made you tick. And blessed you.. you answered every question oh so sweetly.

You, of course, didn't think much of these interactions at all. You were in you apartment one evening, pouring some water in a glass. It had been a particularly tense day at the hospital since the Buffalo Bill attacks were so avid in your mind. Everything had been fine until you had gotten a phone call stating Doctor Lecter's escape. You were worried of course. He was a dangerous man, who knew what he could do and would do to people while he was roaming the world, free of his cage?

These thoughts plagued your mind as you watched the water flow into the glass. You pulled yourself away from your thoughts when you heard a chair being pulled out from behind you. You turned around, quickly turning the water off, to see Doctor Lecter, wearing civilian clothes and his mouth still stained red.

"Hello, nurse Y/N." His accent as charming as ever. He smiled as he watched you pale, shrinking back, pressing yourself against the sink. "Now now- do not scream. I am not here to hurt you."

Thinking quickly, you threw the glass of water at him as you turned to the phone, picking it up and dialing with trembling hands. Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist rather gently, pulling the phone away and throwing it to the other room. It fell with a smash. He was covered in the water you had thrown as he looked at you, "Can't have you calling for reinforcements. Not after I made the risky journey back to visit you."

"Please- please don't hurt me- I'll do whatever you want-" You were scared, of course you were. He put his hand on your cheek, caressing it.

"I'm not going to hurt you, angel. You have been so good to me." He leaned down and his lips brushed your face, which made you shiver. "It's alright to be afraid of me. I know." He mumbled as he touched your hair. Seemingly fascinated and love bombing you. "You're a good girl, are you not?"

You nod weakly. Terrified.

"Good. We'll make sure you stay that way. Yeah?"

You were his now. And there was no going back.

[thewriterg]

♡︎𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫?♡︎

Pairing(s): Jess Mariano x Afab!reader, Jess Mariano x Rory Gilmore

Summary: Jess was your escape for a long time especially with your sister being the towns golden girl but then he gets very up tight and personal about who you talk to I mean you aren’t even together. Right?

Word count: 600+

Request: PLEASEE do a jealous/possessive jess mariano imagine —anon

Warning(s): Jealousy, arguments, mention of violence, and Language

A/n:—GIFs aren’t mine— Happy Thanksgiving/Holidays! I Hope i can put out another story today based off the holiday but no promises very busy day today stay safe and eat good Writers!

Jess blocked a lot of things out of his mind that included your sister Rory Gilmore twisting her hair and batting her eyelashes at him while he worked behind the counter of his uncle’s restaurant as his eyes darted to the clock

The past four times he had looked you had at least twenty minutes until you were let out of school you were switching to Chilton soon and Jess was still trying to fighter out how to deal with the fact

He walked through the court his semi smile he didn’t realize he had on his face dropping when the sight of you and some guy talking to each other caused his jaw to clench

He walked through the court his semi smile he didn’t realize he had on his face dropping when the sight of you and some guy talking to each other caused his jaw to clench

You were handing him something a folder it looked like and before Jess could intervene the guy was already walking away giving you a wave which you returned happily a little too happy for Jess’s liking

You turned around meeting eyes with Jess before you slowly jogged over to him with a bright smile on your face before you came I to contact with his chest wrapping your arms around his waist

“That guy you were talking to, who is he?” Jess questioned interrupting you before you could even begin your sentence as you furrowed your brows retrieving your head from the comfort of his soft band Tee at the hostility in his voice and you suddenly realized how stiff he was under your touch before you dropped your arms to your sides

“He’s just a new friend, whats up with you?” You questioned your head tilted as you looked up at the brunette

“Why was he talking to you?”

“He was asking for some notes he missed Jess. Why does it matter?” You took a full step back now Jess not being the only one tense as you both stood in the middle of the court yard most students already starting their ways on their destination

“He only wants to put his grubby little hands on you like the rest of the guys in this town” Jess stated in a matter of fact tone before you scoffed turning on you heels and beginning to walk away

“You know I’m right Y/n that’s why you’re so damn mad” Jess was hot on your heels to the point you couldn’t even turn around without bumping into him

“Does he even have a girlfriend?” At that you stopped in your tracks you weren’t even together so why the hell should he even care?

“Why do you care!?” You turned around sharply and if It weren’t for Jess having a decent balance you both would’ve went tumbling over You didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh but Jess was testing your patience

“Why were you so jealous when me and Shane kissed at the fair!?” He shot back at you before you could start to walk away again

“Jealous!? You don’t even exist to me!” You found yourself shouting at the brunette jabbing your a finger into his chest the townspeople sparing you both whispering glances and if he were surprised his face sure did nothing to show it

“You’re mine and you know it Y/n. If I see that punk talking to you again you won’t recognize him the next time you see him” Jess had grabbed your wrist as it thrashed against his hold not enough to hurt you but it was still firm to get his point across

“Did that make you feel better huh? Go somewhere and fuck yourself Jess.” You seethed before successfully snatching your hand away from his hold storming off

Jess decided against following you giving you a chance to clear your head before he turned on his heel walking the other way deep down you knew you both belonged to each other it was just a matter of time before you stopped denying it

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds: Chapter Eleven Roti

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Death, Malpractice, Hallucinating, Gun shots, Mental Breakdowns, Seizure.

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

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

Twisted Minds Masterlist

HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

Hannibal ENTERS carrying KUDAL, an Indian curry of sheep intestines, lovingly displayed in a sculpted banana leaf. “Dr. Gideon is a psychopath. Psychopaths are narcissists. They rarely doubt who they are.” Hannibal says as he enters, with Chilton trailing behind; “Tried to appeal to his narcissism.”

“By convincing him he was the Chesapeake Ripper.” Hannibal says, Dr. Chilton realizes he’s gotten himself into trouble. “If only I had been more curious about the common mind.” Chilton says as he looks out the frosty window. “I have no interest in understanding sheep. Only eating them. Kudal. A South Indian curry. Made from sheep, of course. Bathed In a Coconut-coriander-chili sauce.” Hannibal says as he serves Dr. Chilton a morsel from the platter. “Feels like a last supper.” Chilton says as he takes a seat at the dining room table. “You’re not the only psychiatrist a patient has accused of making them kill. Poke around a psychopath’s mind, bound to get poked back.” Hannibal says as he takes his own plate and sits down at the head of the table.

“What would you do in my position?” Chilton asks, “Deny everything.” Hannibal replies simply and blatantly. “I thought psychic driving would have been more effective in breaking down his personality.” Chilton says with a slight smirk. “Psychic driving fails because its methods are too obvious. You were trying too hard, Fredrick. If force is used, the subject will only surrender temporarily.” Hannibal and Dr. Chilton enjoy the beautifully prepared meal. “Once a patient is exposed to the method of the manipulation, it becomes much less effective.” Hannibal continues.

“When Dr. Gideon began to suspect he was being pushed…” Chilton trailed off and Hannibal continued for him; “...he pushed back. The subject mustn’t be aware of any influence. The only motivation one needs is loneliness or mild depression.”

ROAD - PRISON TRANSPORT VAN CRIME SCENE - DAY

Behind Will is the PRISON TRANSPORT VAN, it’s doors open, spattered with blood and debris. Will closes his eyes. A PENDULUM It swings in the darkness of Will Graham’s mind, keeping rhythm with his heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. FWUM. His eyes are closed. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings behind Will, wiping away in its wake the LOCAL COPS and FBI AGENTS. FWUM. The PENDULUM swings again and the AMBULANCE and PARAMEDIC are gone. FWUM. FWUM. He opens his eyes and walks BACKWARDS toward the Prison Van. BACKING into the Prisoner Holding area and sitting down. FWUM. The doors close behind him taking us to:

PRISON TRANSPORT VAN - DAY

Will sits where Gideon was sitting. The PENDULUM swings across the BLOOD-STAINED walls and doors, lifting the blood. FWUM. The PENDULUM swings and the pool of blood on the floor has vanished. Will glances at the bench next to him to see a small torn piece of flesh and a smear of blood. FWUM. Gone. Will glances up to see the PT OFFICER sitting opposite him and the NURSE sitting on the adjacent bench. “All I need is to get one hand free.” They watch Will, who glances at the bench next to him where the small torn piece of flesh and smear of blood once were. Slamming his hand into the bench, Will dislocates his own THUMB and quickly slides his hand free of the cuff. The PT OFFICER sees this and moves to stop him as Will quickly pops his thumb back into place. The PT Officer lands a blow to Will’s head, before Will pulls him to the bench in a choke hold.

The NURSE attempts to intercede and a vicious battle ensues. But Will kicks the Nurse back, pins the PT OFFICER to the roof of the van with his leg shackles, choking the man out. The man falls to the floor dead allowing Will to flip the Nurse onto the floor of the van. He takes THE FREE HANDCUFF and DRIVES deep INTO the Nurse’s neck. Will pulls on it and the man’s throat is ripped out in a gush of blood that sprays the inside of the back door windows. The vehicle lurches to a stop and suddenly, the BACK DOORS OPEN, blinding Will momentarily, then... Will SPRINGS.

ROAD - PRISON TRANSPORT VAN CRIME SCENE - DAY

Will steps out of the back of the Prison Transport Van where JACK CRAWFORD is waiting for him. “Does Abel Gideon still believe he’s the Chesapeake Ripper?” Jack asks, as he looks at what Gideon did.

“Abel Gideon’s having a difference of opinion regarding who he is.” Will says, “This is either Kabuki or some dissociative identity disorder.” Jack says carefully as Will glances back at the bloody Prison Transport Van. “Whoever did that, was not in the same state of mind who did this.” Will says cautiously, Will and Jack are staring at: A HUMAN HEART Topped with a sprinkling of snow, it glistens in the sunlight as it slowly spins. PULL BACK to reveal it is hanging from the branch of a tree. Tied in place with a length of ARTERY. To reveal the heart is not the only organ suspended from the tree’s branches on varying lengths of human vein. Its branches are full of LIVERS, KIDNEYS, LUNGS, SPLEENS, ETC. The bloodless corpses of the PT Driver, PT Officer and Nurse ring the base of the tree, propped up in sitting positions. BEVERLY KATZ, JIMMY PRICE, and BRIAN ZELLER work the crime scene as Jack and Will approach. LOCAL COPS and FBI in b.g.

“He took a uniform, police radio, two nine millimeter handguns, pepper spray, taser and handcuffs.” Beverly Says as Brian Zeller studies an incision in the Nurse’s throat where The carotid artery was crudely removed. “It’s what he didn’t take.” Will says as he looks at the tree of organs. “Hung the organs from the branches with veins from the victims.” Beverly says as she inspects the organ tree. “Long ones are saphenous veins and those there look like popliteal.” Zeller says as- “He even tied little bows with them.” Jimmy says as he looks closely at the tree of organs. “Pretty impressive for an arterectomy performed with the contents of a first aid kit. And a dipstick.” He says as he bags the dipstick as evidence. “The Chesapeake Ripper wouldn’t have left the organs behind.” Will says Grimmly “If Gideon isn’t the Chesapeake Ripper, he’s certainly trying to get his attention.” As Jimmy Price leans in, takes a photograph...

“Local PD’s picked up a foot trail leading out of the woods. Boot soles were consistent with what we found at the crime scene.” Beverly says as she points to the area, “How fresh were the tracks?” Jack asks

“Two, three hours old.”

“Which direction were they headed?”

“Back to Baltimore.” Off Jack’s concerned expression --

BSHCI - CHILTON’S OFFICE - DAY

Chilton sits glibly behind his moat of a desk. “I suppose this is my fault, too.” Will and Y/N stand before Chilton – “You did dodge a bullet. Gideon’s escape foregoes a trial. And a very public humiliation for you.” Will says as we walk into the room. “Now you’re hosting a private one. Next you’ll be accusing me of arranging his escape.” Chilton says with a bitter tone in his mouth.

“Nobody’s making that accusation.” I say gently, “If we’re assigning blame, Dr. L/N, you’re due your fair share. You planted the suggestion I was unethically manipulating Gideon.” Chilton says as he slightly shoots death stares at me. “According to Gideon, you were.” I say as I cross my arms, “After you told him I was. You thought I was manipulating him? He was manipulating you. All this litigious lather you’ve worked up gave him the opportunity to escape” Chilton says as his voice rises with anger. “You were pushing him” I say calmly and gently. .

“He gave me informed consent to treat him. Said he was grateful for my help understanding who he is.” Chilton says with narrowed eyes, “What did you help him understand?” Will asks as he ever so subtly places his hand on the small of my back; which helps ease the tension in my body. “He wasn’t insane when he killed his wife. Killing her drove him insane. He disassociated from the previous murders he committed. I didn’t convince him he’s a serial killer. I just reminded him of the fact.” Chilton says as he stands up at his desk and approaches Will and I slowly.

“Gideon is not the Chesapeake Ripper although he may have thought he was while under your care, Doctor.” Will says with an almost- no not almost Exact hatred in voice towards Chilton. “Whether he is or he isn’t doesn’t matter right now. If he thinks he is or even if he’s confused on that issue, he will kill again.” I say with a foreboding tone in my voice. Dr. Chilton rocks back in his chair.

“I hope he doesn’t for your sake. Can’t imagine how you’d sleep with that on your shoulders.” Chilton sneers cockily as if he was untouchable, oh how i wanted to smack that smirk off his face. Instead I smack him with words. “How did you sleep after Gideon killed your nurse?” I say with a raised and angry yet composed tone. Will strokes my back softly, trying and succeeding at calming me down.

“They thought he was unconscious. The attendant left the nurse alone for three minutes. And in those three minutes Dr. Gideon did horrible things. I am less responsible for that nurse’s death than the attendant’s small bladder.” Chilton says with another Cocky ass smirk, oh how i hate this man. Will tries to focus the conversation away from blame: “What does Gideon want?”

“Last thing Abel Gideon said to me was he intended to tell everyone he’s the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“He just wasn’t intending to do it in court.” Will says this as he considers the extent of what that means...

B.A.U. - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

The room has been transformed into a command center for the Gideon Manhunt. Area MAPS and INFO about DR. GIDEON have been pinned to the walls for reference. Multiple PHOTOGRAPHS of GIDEON are on display for reference. ROWS and ROWS and ROWS of FBI AGENTS listen intently to Jack’s brief: “Transplant Surgeon. Convicted first degree in the murders of his wife and her family. Institutionalized at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where he murdered a nurse and claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack explains to the agents. A man apart, Will leans against the wall at the back of the room, observing the other AGENTS as they listen to Jack.

“Dr. Gideon escaped this morning after killing two police transport officers and a hospital attendant. He is armed and dangerous.” Jack continues, Will winces at the BUZZING overhead lights, a bead of sweat makes its way out of his hairline down his cheek. JACK’S VOICE begins to VIBRATE at the same frequency of the BUZZ. “He’s believed to be at large in the greater Baltimore area.”

The AMBIENT NOISE of Will’s circulatory system provides an organic hum, his HEART BEATING FAINT AND FAST. Will wipes the sweat from his brow, glancing up. THE ROOM IS FILLED WITH ANTLERS. They are mounted to every surface of the walls, branching out from the chairs where Agents once sat but are no longer there. WILL IS HALLUCINATING.

JACK CRAWFORD - SLOWER MOTION He’s the only other man in the room. Jack speaks M.O.S., the twisting antlers pushing into FRAME like thorny branches, wrapping around Will’s point of view. Jack looks at Will, his voice cutting through the bramble: “He will kill again.” Will is snapped from his schism by a sharp WORD from Jack.

WE ARE BACK TO REALITY.

The briefing has ended and the VARIOUS FBI AGENTS are moving into action. Jack Crawford standing on the other side of the room, conferring with FBI AGENTS. He glances at Will. Will resets to NORMAL, his mind resuming synch with the room. He nods to Jack, who registers Will’s odd state with unease.

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT

“A thicket of antlers. All I heard was my heart dim but- but fast, like footsteps fleeing into silence.” Will says as he stares at the ground. “Have you noticed if these hallucinations occur at a particular time of day?” Hannibal asks as he observes Will from across from him. “Usually later in the day, at night.” Will responds as his eyes begrudgingly look into Hannibals.

“Are you more sensitive to light than you used to be?” Hannibal hesitantly asks, “Maybe. Yeah.” Hannibal internally debates how to broach the next subject: “Have you heard the term Sundowning?”

“Sundowning?”

“It’s a state of confusion experienced at the end of the day. When there are more shadows. It commonly occurs in the elderly.” Hannibal explains as he places his hand in his pants pocket.

“Is it a symptom of dementia?” Will asks with a confused look. “It can be.” Will stares at Hannibal, then averts his eyes. It’s a truly terrifying suggestion to consider. A silent moment, then: “People with dementia have all sorts of sleep disorders and disruptions. They can experience episodes of hallucinations, sleep walking.” Hannibal describes the symptoms, but he knows Will does Not have dementia. “I don’t know how to gauge who I am anymore. I don’t feel like myself. I feel like I’ve been gradually becoming different for a while. Now I just feel like somebody else.” Will says as he starts to open the floodgates of what he fears most. “What do you feel like?” Hannibal asks gently.

“I feel... crazy.” Will finally admits, but this is what hannibal wanted all along. “And that is what you fear most.” Hannibal suggests “I fear not knowing who I am. It’s what Abel Gideon’s afraid of, isn’t it. He’s like a blind man. Somebody got inside his head and moved all the furniture around.” Will says softly and grimmly.

“I imagine Abel Gideon would want to find the Chesapeake Ripper to gauge who he is. And who he isn’t. Will, you have me as your gauge.” Will is dimly comforted...

B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY -

Jack is with Will Graham. Zeller, Price and Katz are present with the bodies of the PT OFFICER and MALE NURSE on trays that have been slid out of open morgue drawers. “Gideon didn’t leave a manifesto. We confiscated all correspondences he got from outside admirers. We’re going through everything now”. Bev says as shes looking through them. “Any secret communiques or coded messages written in bodily fluids or anything else, we’ll find them.” Jimmy Says confidently.

“You won’t find anything. Whatever Gideon’s up to is all in his head.” I say as i walk in with A monster in hand and the looks of someone who hasnt slept. A CLOSED MORGUE DRAWER Will notices a trickle of water streaming out of the seam. Brian Zeller sorts through ORGANS in STERILE bags, wrapped in narrow cords, until he finds two containers of gray matter.

“Not much left in these heads. All the organ removals were postmortem. Including transorbital lobotomies.” Zeller says as he looks at all of the bagged organs. Jimmy removes the Dipstick from an evidence bag. “Dipstick lobotomy.” Jimmy says with a grimm but funny look.

Will watches as the TRICKLE OF WATER from the morgue drawer forms a PUDDLE that’s pooling around his feet.

“It wasn’t technically a lobotomy. Didn’t remove any of the brain, just scrambled them.” Bev says with crossed arms. “Went in through the top of the eye socket and whisked it around.” Zeller says as he stands next to Bev. Will realizes that no one else has noticed the pool of water. He glances back and it’s no longer there. “Why remove every other organ in their bodies completely in tact and then scramble their brains?” Jack asks crossing his arms, Will tries to shake off his hallucination, adding: “That’s what they did to him.”

“That’s what who did to him?”

“Dr. Chilton and every psychiatrist and Ph.D. Candidate who attempted any kind of therapy. Poked and prodded. Gave him tests. Told him who he was, who he wasn’t.”

“I want a list of every doctor, every therapist, anybody in any kind of psychiatric field who ever had a conversation with Gideon.” Jack orders.

“Y/N L/N will be on that list.” Will says causing my breathing to hitch as all eyes are now on me. Will’s concerned Look at me…

F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL - DAY -

Will Graham swims upstream through the crowd of EXITING FBI TRAINEES leaving the lecture hall. Y/N L/N stands behind the desk looking through her papers as he gathers them up. “Are you my protective custody?” I ask my partner and lover, “You heard?”

“I heard I get an armed escort until Gideon is apprehended.” I say with a soft smirk, “You’ll have a real FBI Agent, not a teacher with a temporary badge.” Will says which causes me to slightly frown. “Too bad. Would have been fun cozying up with your dogs in front of the space heater. Not that I don't do that most days.” It’s a flirtation, but a mild one.

“Don’t need protective custody to cozy up with my dogs. Or me for that matter. I'm yours to cuddle with anytime.” I smile sweetly, and touch his cheek and reacts. “You’re really warm.”

“I tend to run hot. They say stress raises body temperature.” Will says, reaching his hand up and strokes my cheek and I revel in the soft and tender moment. “You should take some aspirin honey.” I say softly as the doctor and big sister in me comes out. Will shakes the bottle of aspirin in his pocket. “Way ahead of you.”

“They’re going to kill Gideon, aren’t they?” I say more than ask, I look down as I lean on Will’s desk.

“Whatever happens to him, has nothing to do with you.” Will says as he takes my face in his hands, and places a tender kiss to my forehead. “Gideon’s not completely responsible for his actions if he was subjected to an outside influence.” I say softly.

“Like Dr. Chilton telling him he’s the Chesapeake Ripper?” Will raises an eyebrow, “Like me telling him he’s not in a state of mind to know who he is.” I can’t help but hold myself slightly accountable. “What do you think will happen if he finds the Ripper? Do you think the ripper would turn him into Art?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper will kill him. He took credit for his work. Ripper would consider that rude.”

DR. CARRUTHERS’ OFFICE - NIGHT -

Paul Carruthers is dead, tongue hanging out of the hole in his throat, lying across his collar and tucked into his waist coat and fastened with a decorative tie pen. Although the stands are still present, the IV BAGS of BLOOD that once hung on them are now inside an ice-chest cooler on the desk. Jack Crawford and Will Graham are studying the body. “Dr. Paul Carruthers wrote an article for the Journal of Criminal Psychology describing Gideon as a pathological narcissist who suffers from psychotic episodes.” Jack says

“Let’s hope he got some satisfaction from being proved right.” Will says as he stares at the body, “This isn’t just about getting the Chesapeake Ripper’s attention.” Jack replies as he also stares at the body. “Gideon’s mind has been dissected by psychiatrists, and as a surgeon, he’s applying his own skill set.” Will says as he takes a closer look at the dead man’s tongue. “Gideon gave him something better to do with his tongue than wag it.” Jack eyes Will.

“That’s not what killed him.” Brian Zeller looks at the cannulae inserted into Paul Carruthers’ arteries.“Arterial cannulae. Drained him until his heart stopped.”

“Got a little on his collar.” Jimmy Price examines the bags of blood. “There’s four-and-a-half liters of blood in here. Packed in ice.” Jimmy pulls a note out from under the cooler and reads: “Please deliver to the Red Cross.”

“That’s considerate.”

“He’s peacocking for the Ripper.”

“This is like flowers and chocolate before a first date.” Will notices Paul Carruthers’ hand is on the computer mouse, forefinger poised to click (if it had any life in it). Will taps the CONTROL KEY and the monitor illuminates. The TATTLECRIME.COM website HOME PAGE is already on the screen. The HEADLINE READS: “CHESAPEAKE RIPPER ESCAPES.” It’s splashed across a PICTURE of the TWO TREES hanging with organs. The CURSOR is directly over the REFRESH CIRCLE ARROW. Will pushes Paul Carruthers’ dead finger hover over the mouse and CLICKS the refresh. The latest home pages LOADS. The headline story reads: “CHESAPEAKE RIPPER RIPS AGAIN.”

“How is this already news?” Beneath, the EXCLUSIVE HEADLINE is a picture of PAUL CARRUTHERS, tongue-tied, blood bags still hanging. “Somebody from Baltimore PD must’ve taken a picture with their phone and sold it to Tattlecrime.”

“Took the picture before the blood was on ice. Gideon was still here.”

“He has Freddie Lounds.”

B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY -

PAUL CARRUTHERS’ grotesque, BLOODLESS body lies on a gurney. across to find an identically injured corpse. Jack, Will, Y/N and Brian Zeller are gathered around dead CARSON NAHN, thirties, throat cleanly sliced, tongue pulled through, resting on his upper chest. “Dr. Carson Nahn. He’s the Psychiatric Attending at Western General. Interviewed Gideon for the same psychopathy survey I participated in two years ago.” I say as i look at the body infront of me

“Total frenectomy. All of the webbing under the tongue, even the connective tissue into the throat has been cut free and pulled through for the... desired effect.” Zeller says as he gestures to the tongue 'necktie’. “Still no word from Dr. Chilton?” Jack asks, “He hasn’t answered his phone since yesterday and didn’t show up to work this morning.” I glance at Will, both of us assuming the worst.

“Gideon wants to lure the Ripper. He’s going to offer up the man who disrespected both their identities.”

“Every detail of Paul Carruthers’ murder meticulously described in Freddie Lounds’ article has been faithfully re-created except one…” Jack pulls back the sheet covering Carson Nahn’s shoulders REVEALING one of his arms has been recently amputated. “What’s different about Carson? Why amputate his arm?” I ask, but deep down I know. “Freddie write anything about this?” Jack asks Zeller. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Abel Gideon didn’t kill this man. The Chesapeake Ripper did.” Will says it, the thing i knew deep down. “You said the Chesapeake Ripper would want to kill Gideon for taking credit for his work.” I say softly as I move to be next to him. “Gideon’s not alone anymore. The Ripper won’t risk exposure. So he’s telling us how to catch him. Actually, he’s telling you.”

“Where was the last place you saw a severed arm, Jack?” I ask and turn to look at him

F.B.I. S.U.V. - NIGHT -

Traveling. Will sits in the backseat with Jack Crawford. F.B.I. AGENTS up front. Jack studies Will as he glances out the window at the street lights intermittently flashing past. “I want you to wait outside.” Jack tells Will and quickly looks at him. “I think that’s probably best.” Will says as he is gazing out the window at the dark sky. “You look like hell, Will.”

“I feel like hell. Actually, I feel fluid. Like I’m... spilling. I must be coming down with something. Hope it’s not contagious.”

“This. What we do. Can weaken your immune system. If you allow it.” Jack says. “If I allow it?” Will says with confusion tainting his voice. “Keep this all in perspective. Keep yourself in perspective.” Jack says with knowing words. “I am in a haze at the moment.”

“You seem over-whelmed. You’ve got to take care of yourself, Will.”

“Build up my resistance?”

“Just don’t let yourself go. As much as you can, let the rest of it go. You take too much of this with you.”

“It’s hard to shake off what’s already under your skin.”

OBSERVATORY - NIGHT -

The F.B.I. S.U.V. approaches. ON WILL GRAHAM His eyes are closed. He listens to a POUNDING RAIN outside his head. He slowly opens his eyes and WE ARE...

F.B.I. S.U.V. - NIGHT - SLOW MOTION-

Will sits with JACK CRAWFORD and THREE OTHER FBI AGENTS. Sheets of water pour over the windows indicating a heavy rain outside. The SOUND DROWNS OUT ALL OTHER SOUND. Jack Crawford and the other FBI AGENTS EXIT the vehicle, quietly shutting doors as they move across the field.

- WILL’S FEVERED P.O.V.

Pouring rain outside. Will watches the distorted images of JACK CRAWFORD and the FBI AGENTS stealthily moving off. He finally unbuckles his seat belt and gets out. Will steps out of the vehicle and there is no evidence of the heavy rain fall he witnessed when he was inside.

The LOUD SOUND OF RAIN is abruptly absent. There are TWO OTHER F.B.I. S.U.V.s parked on the road, FBI AGENTS moving toward the Observatory from each of them, following Jack Crawford and the others. ON WILL GRAHAM He casts a foggy look to the nearby tree-line. Something’s moving in the forest. It’s THE BLACK STAG. BACK TO WILL He moves, drawn toward the treeline, heading away from --

OBSERVATORY - NIGHT

The FBI team slowly and stealthily approaches the Observatory. JACK CRAWFORD stands by the door to the Observatory. He hears a LOW MOAN. The big TELESCOPE DOORS are opening. He looks at an FBI SWAT OFFICER. Jack nods. The SWAT OFFICER pulls the door open --

OBSERVATORY - NIGHT -

Jack RUNS into the SPACE and sees MOONLIGHT streaming through the TELESCOPE DOORS REVEALING: DR. CHILTON The drip in his arm. He is reclining in the GURNEY. He holds HIS OWN INSIDES in his lap, a GROTESQUE BASKET OF ORGANS, like hellish fruit. Freddie Lounds works furiously, rhythmically pumping air. “He’s still alive.”

“Get medical in here! Now!” OFF the horrifying tableau of Chilton clinging to life...

OBSERVATORY - NIGHT -

From a distant vantage point, Gideon amongst trees, watching The FBI flood the Observatory. He sighs, disappointed. Jack Crawford EXITS the observatory and confers with FBI AGENTS. He watches for a moment, then recedes into the darkness.

FOREST ROAD - NIGHT -

Will stumbles out of the trees and stops short. THE BLACK STAG It stands at the side of the road, motionless, staring back. They watch each other for a still moment. Will slowly un-holsters his gun. He raises his weapon at the Stag, his finger tensing on the trigger.

GIDEON’S CAR - NIGHT -

Gideon slides behind the wheel, glancing up in the REARVIEW MIRROR to see Will Graham sitting in his back seat. He’s in a flop sweat, the gun still in his hand pointing at Gideon’s back through the backrest of the front seat. “I was expecting the Chesapeake Ripper. Or are you him?” Gideon glances over his shoulder at Will’s drawn gun.

WILL GRAHAM’S - FEVERISH P.O.V.

Gideon is now GARRET JACOB HOBBS, his eyes cloudy and dead. “Turn around. Don’t look at me.” Will looks grey, sweating, swaying. The gun unsteady. Gideon looks at Will’s state. “You’re a little peaky, Mr. Graham, if I’m allowed to say so. I may be crazy, but I believe you’re sick.” Gideon says. ‘Garret Jacob Hobbs’ stares at him from the REARVIEW MIRROR. “Who is your doctor?” Will’s eyes droop, but then he shakes it off. Wipes sweat from his brow with his free hand.

“Drive.”

HANNIBAL’S HOME - MUD ROOM - NIGHT -

Hannibal has opened his door on ABEL GIDEON and a pale and sweating WILL GRAHAM, holding a gun on Gideon’s back. Hannibal backs inside, allowing Gideon and Will to ENTER. “Will, what are you doing here?” Will closes the door behind him, keeping the gun on Gideon. Only he looks exactly like GARRET JACOB HOBBS to Will.

HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT -

Garret Jacob Hobbs sits at the head of the table. Will Graham stands between Hannibal and Hobbs. “I didn’t know where else to go. I’m... I’m having a hard time thinking. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know what’s real.” Will says as he points his gun at Gideon, who remains silent, observing Hannibal’s navigation of the situation; “It’s 7:27 PM. You’re in Baltimore, Maryland. Your name is Will Graham.”

“I don’t care who I am. Tell me......if he’s real.”

“Who do you see, Will?”

“Garret Jacob Hobbs. Who do you see?” Will asks as he is worried about losing himself. “I don’t see anyone.” The admission throws Will into more confusion. Will fights the welling tears, terrified of his madness. “He’s. Right. There.”

“There’s no one there, Will.” Will shakes his head, glancing over and seeing GARRET JACOB HOBBS staring quietly back at him. “You’re lying.”

“We’re alone. You came here alone. Do you remember coming here?”

“Please don’t lie to me.” He screams at Hannibal, tears stream down his Fevered face. “Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. You killed him. You watched him die.” Will holds his head, trying desperately to hold on. “What’s happening to me…!” He cries out terrified and desperate. “You’re having an episode. I want you to hand me your gun.” Will shakes his head through confusion, shudders, goes still. “Will?” Hannibal examines Will’s eyes, His pupils has Dilated Dramatically.. “He’s had a mild seizure.”

“That doesn’t seem to bother you.” Dr. Gideon says with confusion as to what he just witnessed. “I said it was mild.” Hannibal says as he removes the gun from Will’s hand, directing at Gideon. “Are you the man who claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper?” Hannibal asks him as he sizes him up and sits down.

“Why do you say claimed?”

“Because you’re not. You know you’re not and you don’t know much more about who you are beyond that.” Gideon is struck silent by that assessment. Hannibal sits opposite Gideon at the dining table. “A terrible thing to have your identity taken from you.” Hannibal says with a soft malicious tone. “I’m taking it back one piece at a time. You should see the pieces I got out of my psychiatrist.” Gideon says with a sadistic smirk.

“Y/N L/N was one of your psychiatrists, too. Is that right?” Hannibal says lowly, He wants no harm to come to her but wonders what Will would do if he put her in harm's way.

“Yes. Dr. L/N.”

“I can tell you where to find her” and so his curiosity or his idea of a experiment is set in motion.

HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT -

Will stares into middle distance and blinks. “Will... can you hear me?” Will slowly nods, disoriented. “Repeat after me. My name is Will Graham.”

“My name is Will Graham.”

“Raise both of your arms.” Will does as instructed, Hannibal studies them, then gently pushes them back down again. “Although you may not feel like it, I need you to smile.” Will does as instructed. “It wasn’t a stroke. You may have had a seizure. Tell me the last thing you remember.”

“I was with Garret Jacob Hobbs.”

“You have a fever. You were hallucinating. You thought he was alive. In the room with you.”

“I saw him.”

“He’s a delusion disguising reality. Don’t let that let you slip away. You killed Garret Jacob Hobbs once. You Can find a way to kill him again.” Hannibal places his car keys on the dining room table. “Where are you going?” Hannibal moves toward the door, shrugging on his coat. “I’m worried about Y/N. Abel Gideon is still at large. He mutilated Dr. Chilton. They found him clinging to life. Will…”

“Y/N.” Will stands but Hannibal gently pushes him back down.

“You’re in no state to go anywhere but the hospital. I’ll call Jack Crawford. Tell him where you are.” Hannibal EXITS and returns with the telephone, dialing, but Will is already gone. Hannibal hangs up the phone, content.

Y/N’S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Framed by the window pane, Dr. Y/N L/N works at her desk. This is GIDEON’s POV. He stands outside her window, some distance away, studying her. Will Graham standing behind him. “I don’t know if I’ll feel like myself again. I don’t know if there’s a self left to feel like. I spent so much time believing I was him it got harder to remember who I was when I wasn’t him.”

“Who are you now?”

WILL’S FEVERISH P.O.V. -

GIDEON In Will’s mind on fire, he appears to be GARRET JACOB HOBBS. “You.” Will is horrified by Garret Jacob Hobbs’ comparison. Gideon turns his attention back to Caroline in the window. “We’re both here. Looking at her. Just those kinds of people who are infatuated with those we care about.. So infatuated that it gets dangerous….You and I are already committed. Hard to be with another person when you can’t get out of your own head. “I want to get out.”

“We all want things we can’t have. If I kill her... like he would kill her... I wonder if I could understand him better, hear the cold drips in his darkness, and watch the world through his red haze.” He turns to Will and we REVEAL GIDEON is GARRET JACOB HOBBS. “I wonder if then you could finally understand who you’ve become.” Will stares at him and for a moment, seem clear headed.

Y/N’S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Y/N JUMPS at the SUDDEN sound of a GUNSHOT outside.

Y/N’S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Will is Sweating, breathing heavily. The GUN drops from his hand and drops the GRASS next to Gideon.

F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE - NIGHT-

Jack stares at pictures of Abel Gideon on his corkboard before pulling them down, along with the maps of his escape. “They’ll be sewing Dr. Chilton back together until morning. If he lives through the night.” Jack says to Hannibal. “At least Will remains in one piece. For now. His temperature is 105. White blood cell count is twice normal. They still can’t identify the source of the infection.”

“They will.”

“You seem confident.”

“Even with a 105 degree fever, Will brought Gideon down. He’s going to be fine. I told you. Will always comes back to being Will.”

“Will’s sense of self has not been constant or even continuous. How he thinks of what he does is becoming less and less evident. I would recommend you suspend his license to carry firearms." Jack glances at Hannibal -- that’s a serious recommendation. “Are you having a difference of opinion about who Will is?”

“I know who Will is. Will knows who he is. But our experiences shape us, Jack. How are Will’s experiences shaping him?”

HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT -

Y/N L/N sits on bed and watches over unconscious Will Graham, he’s hooked up to an IV and several monitors. She kisses his forehead softly as she scoot in next to him and rests her head on his chest.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

High Risk

PART TWO: SILVER TONGUED DEVIL

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Fem!Reader

WC: 3.1k words

Chapter Summary: In order to form a deeper connection with Hannibal, hoping to keep him complacent, Doctor Chilton allows you to have dinner with him…. Mostly unsupervised.

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, slight canon divergence (frederick is still head of baltimore state hospital), manipulation all around, some jealousy, corruption, smut, handjob, kinda audio voyeurism but not really?, also kinda exhibitionistic but not really??, some alcohol consumption, aaaand thats all i can think of rn but lmk if i missed anything!

————-

You waited outside of the double doors with a guard, patiently carrying Hannibal’s meal tray. He had a visitor, a mutual acquaintance of Doctor Chilton’s, and they were not to be disturbed.

You couldn’t understand why you had to be standing there, but you figured it was a power move on Doctor Chilton’s part. Reminding you of your place. 

Your eyes flicked up to the security camera in the corner, suspecting he was watching more than one of them at a time. More than half an hour had passed, the silence stretching on infinitely. The guard had briefly tried to engage you in small talk, but he had quickly realized it was pointless. You already knew what sort of questions he would ask if he felt like he had any leeway, and you were not in the mood for it.

Already there were rumors speculating the sort of favors Hannibal was asking of you. You’d felt the gazes on you, caught the murmurs behind your back. You couldn’t deny that the more animal part of you, the one that had no such regard for personal safety, hadn’t thought about him that way. 

A few times, he had slipped a folded piece of paper for you to find when you retrieved his meal trays. Always sketches of you, symbolic renditions meant to convey messages. His attention to detail was astounding. Almost… devoted, in a way. 

Every time you posed for him, you found yourself enjoying his focus more and more. The thrill of it all was narcotic, but you only hated that it had brought other people’s attention to you. 

The doors suddenly opened and a tall, well dressed woman stepped out. She was strikingly beautiful, with icy blue eyes and neatly styled dark hair. Her lips were painted ruby, which further accentuated her features in an elegant but almost severe way.

Doctor Alana Bloom was her name. You’d heard of her from both Doctor Chilton and Hannibal, but you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her in person until then.

“My, you’re a looker,” she said, inspecting you as if you were an insect under a microscope. “No wonder.”

You only smiled politely, internally seething. She could see right through you, smiling in return.

“He’ll charm the pants off you if you’re not careful.”

With that, she walked away, heels clicking down the hallway. The guard next to you let out a huff and you shot a glare in his direction.

He pushed off the wall and followed her, while you turned the other way and slipped into Hannibal’s cell room.

“Sorry, it might be a little cold,” you said as a greeting, making your way over to the slot. 

“You were waiting for me?” He asked.

“I was told to wait until you were done, yes.”

He noticed you were avoiding looking at him, though the displeasure itself wasn’t directed at him. He smiled a little to himself with satisfaction.

“Doctor Bloom is an old colleague of mine, but our history goes a little further than that,” he said. “A futile affair, that was.”

“No rekindling the flame then?” You asked before you could stop yourself. 

Of course that wasn’t what the visit was about, you knew as much. But you were still bristling from her words, and the smugness in them.

“No,” Hannibal said. “I’m afraid we are mutually uninterested, though we have some business left over.”

You hummed in thought, composing yourself. “I apologize for asking, it’s none of my business.”

“You may ask me whatever you want. I won’t mind telling you.”

You tilted your head to the side, where another camera was perched up in the corner. 

“We don’t have such liberties,” you said pointedly. “Though who knows? Maybe there’s an argument for our case.”

With that, a small, coquettish grin and a glance in his direction. Hannibal sat up straighter, licking his lips.  He glanced up at the camera, also well aware that Frederick was listening.

If anything, the two of you had been enjoying toying with him in any small way you could. It drove him crazy, but he mostly seethed in silence, knowing he was equally matched in this game.

“Perhaps dinner might be a good place to start,” he said.

“Oh yes, I would like that very much,” you said, exaggerating a wistful sigh. “But we shall see.”

————————————

“You know, you’re getting a little bold with all these requests,” Doctor Chilton said, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I know you have your methods of trying to get information out of him — or at least you think so,” you said, unbothered. “I mean, he has been much more forthcoming because of me, hasn’t he? I have my methods, too.”

He let out a sardonic chuckle. “Clearly. Others seem to think so, too, no?”

You didn’t give in to his goading, changing the subject instead. “Much luck with Doctor Bloom?”

“Some, actually,” he said, his sneer faltering. “But that shouldn’t really concern you. You’re still his favorite little doll to play with.”

And you mine, you thought to yourself, containing a grin.

“I’m aware,” you said instead, raising an eyebrow. “So it’s not too unreasonable to have dinner with him, especially with the glass still separating us.”

“Oh, but you’d be so much more useful if you were up close and personal. I could put you in one of the interrogation rooms and keep him handcuffed... But the problem is, he asked for total privacy. No cameras and no audio recordings,” he countered. “I cannot possibly do both. You know that’s not how it works.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, but you already knew what the obvious answer was.

“No cameras, then,” you said. “I would say that’s fair, no? You might not care for the video footage, anyway, not without sound.”

He narrowed his eyes but nodded in assent, knowing it was the best he would get. The ghost of a self-satisfied smile was on your lips, pleasure at getting what you wanted dancing in your eyes. 

As long as the rest of the team was getting the information they needed, by whatever means necessary, he supposed he couldn’t grouse too much. Regardless, that didn’t make him any less annoyed at being backed into a corner.

“You get an hour and a half tops,” he said with finality. “Work your magic. And wear something nice, why don’t you?”

————————————

The table had already been set for you when you arrived. A mediocre attempt at something romantic, with a few little tea lights and a half-dead flower in a plastic cup. You supposed the guards couldn’t be bothered with such nonsense, but it was also more mockery on Frederick’s part. 

But at that very moment, you couldn’t care less. In fact, you found yourself… excited for the night's events. 

It was nice not to wear your uniform for once, your nicest black dress in its place. It was nothing too special, but you only wore it on certain occasions, such as dates.

And while this may be the macabre version of a date, it was a date nonetheless.

You’d styled your hair differently, put on a little make up and even wore perfume, which you were rarely able to do. It was liberating in a way, as if granting you permission to step out of bounds a little more. You wouldn’t waste such an opportunity.

Your heels clicked softly on the linoleum floor as you slowly paced the room, anxiously waiting. You glanced down at your watch, and right as it hit eight o’clock, the door opened. Hannibal was led in by a guard, his hands cuffed in front of him. He smiled at the sight of you, his eyes roaming up and down to better appreciate you. 

Your heart immediately started racing, both from nerves and giddiness. You focused solely on him as he was led to the table, the situation becoming less surreal by the second. Despite the fact that he was in his usual jumpsuit, you could tell he had meticulously groomed himself as best as he could. 

Another guard came in to place two trays on the table, but the food wasn’t from the cafeteria. Apparently, Hannibal had been allowed to cook a two-course meal, dessert included. There was even some wine, but you had to settle for plastic cups instead of glasses. Not that either of you seemed to mind, too busy sizing each other up. 

It felt strange, not seeing him through a thick panel of glass, but it was even stranger to sit right across from him. You only had to reach out your arm and you’d be able to touch him… if it wasn’t forbidden, of course.

“I’m surprised Doctor Chilton did not join us for dinner,” he said as the guard cuffed him to the table.

“He’ll be here in spirit,” you said, briefly nodding at the two guards before they stepped out of the room. “But I think it’s better this way, don’t you agree?”

“Much better,” he agreed, pausing a moment until the door finally shut. “You look beautiful, by the way… And you smell good enough to eat. Just as I thought you would.”

You grinned at his dark sense of humor, suppressing a shudder as you crossed your legs and leaned back. “Well, flattery will get you anywhere.”

“And wine?”

He grabbed the already uncorked bottle of wine and raised his eyebrows. You nodded and he poured for both of you. 

“We shall see,” you said, taking the cup from him and holding his gaze.

“Well, a toast to our very gracious host,” he said, raising his cup. “For making all this happen.”

You tapped your cup against his with a soft cheers before taking a sip. He proceeded to give you a detailed explanation of what you would be eating, nearly putting you in a trance. His voice had a hypnotic quality to it, managing to soothe your nerves. Without really noticing, the two of you were leaning forward, the conversation taking on an almost intimate quality – even if the subject matter was anything but. 

Before he touched his food, he encouraged you to try first. He watched you eat, his amber eyes lingering on your lips as you licked them. You had never tasted anything so complex or refined, but knowing it was put together by him made it even more of a delicacy. You let out a pleasured hum, barely holding back from getting another bite.

“My compliments to the chef,” you said, taking another sip of wine instead. “It’s almost enough to convince me to eat anything you cook.”

He chuckled. “Oh, if we were not within these four walls, I would have made a whole feast just for you. I’m sure Frederick has told you of my dinner parties.”

“But then it’s likely we wouldn’t have met outside these walls,” you said, not wanting to talk about Doctor Chilton. “Unless, of course, you frequent this sort of place.”

“I am not unfamiliar, I will give you that,” he said. “But our meeting has been the only good thing about this whole situation, and for that, I am grateful.”

You put a hand on your chest, teasingly pretending to be touched. “How sweet, are you going to quote more Byron for me next?”

He laughed, finally digging into his food. Conversation flowed with surprising ease as you continued to eat. Perhaps it was partly due to the wine, but it also helped that you were eager to listen to his thoughts on things. You were well aware of his intelligence, and it was stimulating to finally talk to someone that had so many layers to uncover.

By the time you got to dessert, he was bold enough to spoon feed you the first bite, awaiting your reaction. The taste was just as amazing, but you were more interested in the gesture. The way he was gazing at you with ardor, kindling your insides – A hunger of a different kind. 

“Tell me something,” he said, clearing his throat. “If it weren’t for Frederick, would you have accepted an invitation to dine with me?”

“Depends, if you’d played your cards right, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it would’ve been possible.” You tilted your head to one side slightly. “But you’re much too valuable, are you not? They have to keep you happy.”

“You certainly have.” 

You let out a huff of amusement, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand. Briefly, you thought again of all the rumors circulating about the two of you. This time, though, it didn’t really seem to matter all that much anymore. They’ll keep talking anyway, so why not just do whatever the hell I want?

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you always manage to get what you want?” 

He shrugged as if he couldn’t help it, making you chuckle. “What’s your secret, hmm? How do you do it?”

“You aren’t able to come any closer, are you?”

“Of course not, Hannibal.” You pretended to scoff. “We’ve got to keep our hands to ourselves, too.”

There was a devilish grin on your face as you slowly got up from your seat. You slipped your shoes off and brought a finger to your lips to indicate silence. It was titillating, truth be told, to be straddling the fine line between reckless abandon and caution. Especially when you were clearly leaning more towards one side.

“Pity,” he said, watching your every move, smile mirroring your own. “I would have liked to whisper it in your ear.”

You slid onto the chair next to him and he turned his body to face you. You looked down at his jumpsuit, locating the zipper, before looking back into his eyes. He slightly dipped his chin in assent, and you reached a hand up to his chest.

“Tell me something else, then,” you said, dragging it down slowly so as not to make much noise. 

“Like what?” he asked, holding his breath as more and more of his body was revealed. 

His blood was quickly flowing south, the consequences of this becoming apparent as the zipper reached the end of the line. Your mouth fell open in both surprise and eagerness, exhaling a shuddery breath. He kept his hands off as you carefully eased his erection out of his underwear, fingertips brushing the velvety underside.  

“Anything at all,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you? I want to hear your ideas on love.”

You stood up and slid your panties down your legs without lifting your dress too much. You watched him swallow hard as you sat back down, letting the fabric fall on his lap.

“For the mess,” you whispered in his ear, your body pressed close to his. “And a little souvenir for you to keep after.”

He nodded, spine straightening as you planted a kiss just beneath his earlobe. You held his gaze as you spat in the palm of your hand and reached down to curl your fingers around his shaft. His hips immediately bucked into your grip, and you heard him suck in a breath.

“Love, hmm?” He cleared his throat. “You want to know what makes me tick?”

“Absolutely,” you purred, hand moving up and down slowly, wrist flicking slightly when you reached the tip. “Though I may already have a few ideas...”

As much as you wanted to tease him, elongating his pleasure, you didn’t have much time to spare. Your faces were close together, but you fought off the urge to kiss him. His breathing became more labored as your hand continued its rhythmic movements, the heady scent of you – and of your arousal – enveloping him.

He’d had his fantasies about you on many late nights, but your actual touch was another thing entirely, better than what he could have imagined. And knowing he was affecting you in the same way… the chain of his handcuff rattled against the table a little as he strained, trying his hardest not to touch you back. He would want you to be loud, anyway, and that was not an option there.

“W-well, I certainly like to be surprised,” he said haltingly. “And I admire boldness. But to love in itself is a bold a-action, wouldn’t you agree?

“I wouldn’t know much about that,” you said, slicking his pre-cum around the head of his cock with your thumb. “But I do know how to be a lover.”

The light graze of your teeth on his earlobe made his body jerk, his cock pulsing in your hand. You picked up the pace, his chest heaving as his hips almost involuntarily rocked to meet each stroke. Your lips moved to his jaw and down to his neck, and you listened to him babble about something else, trying to fill in the silence. 

Your attention was on his body’s reactions and you could tell he was dangerously close to the edge.  You silently warned him not to stop talking as his cock began to twitch, and you had only seconds before you quickly had to cover your hand with your discarded panties. He bit his bottom lip as he spilled all over the fabric, little noises of pleasure stuck in his throat, one hand gripping your arm. 

You smiled against his skin, lavishing his neck with some more attention as he faintly sighed your name. And when he was done riding out his high, you turned his face towards you and planted a small kiss on his lips as if to reward him. 

He was panting, still lost in the dizzying aftershocks of his orgasm, but you helped clean him up some and zipped his jumpsuit back up, your panties still hidden within. You glanced down at your watch, seeing you only had twenty minutes left. 

You slipped back to your side of the table as if nothing was amiss, but the devious glint in your eyes was undeniable. He was lost and he knew it, already wanting – no, needing – more. So much more. Luckily, it was as you had said; He’d always been good at getting what he wanted.

“I’ve had a really good time tonight, Hannibal,” you sighed contentedly, already aware you would be carrying this with you for the rest of the night. “You sure are good company.”

“As are you,” he said, his voice calmer, though something was lurking underneath. “Perhaps… we might arrange for it to happen soon.”

A thrill danced over your skin at the prospect of it. “Perhaps. Only if you’re on your best behavior.”

------

[t3acupz]

ok I have to ask because I'm so curious. Do you ship brownham in a "two hawks" serial killer couple way, or a Will is manipulating Matthew way, or a pwp way, or a doomed by the narrative way or...? I just want to know your headcanons XD

There’s so much to say about brownham that I get emotional about it.

Essentially, what happens in canon isn’t that great for Matthew. Will emotionally manipulates Matthew, and uses him to try and kill Hannibal. For Will, Matthew is just a pawn in his chess game against Hannibal.

But I like to approach this ship from Matthew’s point of view. He is someone who has been hiding his true self from everyone for most of his life. He’s spent time in a mental asylum for unknown reasons. He fakes a lisp and changes his mannerisms to appear as an unassuming orderly at the BSHCI. We can only assume his backstory and what led him to act this way but he’s clearly desperate to be known. Truly known. And in truly knowing someone, we love them.

I love that we get a small shot of Matthew in 2.01 Kaiseki (bringing Will his dinner) because it shows that he’s been with Will since the beginning of his imprisonment. Matthew spent months studying Will, silently watching him from the shadows. Listening to his conversations with Chilton. I’m sure he’s heard Will denounce Hannibal as the real Chesapeake Ripper plenty of times. Matthew read Will’s file and studied the Chesapeake Ripper’s murders just so he can come up with a plan to free Will by creating an alibi for him.

This scene in 2.05 Mukōzuke is so great because of the symbolism. Matthew opened Will’s enclosure, and watched him exit the cage with complete adoration. That was exactly what Matthew had planned by killing the bailiff. He wanted to set Will free. He knew that Will was an empath; someone who could finally understand him and not think he was depraved or insane.

Matthew is wearing all white, a symbol of purity. He wants to be Will’s savior, his guardian angel. He talks about hawks and how their folly is their solitary nature. He’s so in love with Will that he will make them go against their natures just to be together.

I’ll talk briefly about the pool scene. Water is one of Will’s motifs in the show, and Matthew thus became an extension of Will. He swam faster than Hannibal and then outmaneuvered him with the tranquilizer dart. He could’ve just let Hannibal drown and that would’ve been the end of it but he wanted to mock Hannibal. He wanted to show Hannibal how much he hurt Will and in doing so, compared Hannibal to the traitorous Judas. He needed Hannibal to know that he was killing for Will, and at Will’s request. It was Matthew’s way of saying, “Yes, I won and I killed you for my man.”

Matthew wasn’t shocked in the slightest when Hannibal told him that Will wasn’t a killer. It didn’t faze him at all. He also wasn’t the least bit fearful to be facing the actual Chesapeake Ripper. A man known for killing dozens of people in gruesome and horrific ways. He had Hannibal tied up and bleeding out and did it all while being adorably jaunty. That’s an amazing power move and something completely unforgettable for me when watching this show.

So the way I view the ship is in canon-divergence. Matthew succeeds in killing Hannibal, and Will is freed from the BSHCI when new evidence comes to light to prove that Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. Will returns to Wolf Trap and takes time off from working for the FBI to deal with the trauma of everything he went through. Initially, Matthew gives Will space by just dropping of care packages but eventually starts to help with chores around the house. Finally, Will invites Matthew to talk candidly about what transpired. It begins as unrequited love but evolves into real feelings from Will when he finally accepts the love he deserves.

I don’t picture them becoming serial killers because Matthew’s only known kill was the bailiff and that was done out of love, unlike Hannibal who killed for pleasure and to consume his victims like they were nothing more than livestock. Will had two paths - embrace the darkness within himself with Hannibal or follow a lighter path with Matthew (I enjoy both).

[cannibalgenders]

Imagine they announce a Hannibal spinoff, everyone is excited to see Mads and Hugh again maybe Clarice possibly Jack

When it comes out is a 4 hour long legal battle for the copyright over "Hannibal the Cannibal" between Freddie Lounds and Frederick Chilton the case is called Freddie v. Freddie there's not even visible murder just legal jargon

You laugh but this is actually my ideal spin-off. I hope it’s edited and directed with the sort of gritty, realistic drama as The People vs OJ Simpson and it’s a miniseries with hour long episodes detailing the intricate petty ways in which both of them have attempted to monetize their horrific experiences,

I hope their are recreations of each side of the story, everything they’re both lying about, by the original actors, but acting wildly out of character because it’s CLEARLY Bullshit that Freddie/Chilton are making up to strengthen their case.

I’d start talking to my patent attorney dad again just to screen this with him in one torturous marathon.

We get to the end. Tense silence falls on both of us. My father is tied up and I occasionally remove the duct tape from his mouth so he can explain a legal issue. Type face texts scrawls along the bottom of the screen. “Havana Cuba- 2023’. It changes to a rather meta shot of two people watching the court case on a couch. Will and Hannibal’s hands brush as they both reach for the bowl. Inside, we see a single uncooked lip.

End.

[sebeth]

Who's Who In The DC Universe: Batman of Earth-One and the Batman of Earth-Two

Batman of Earth-Two by Dave Gibbons & Batman of Earth-One by Dick Giordano

Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman had versions on Earth-One and Earth-Two, mainly due to being members of the Justice Society and the Justice League. Other heroes like the Flash (Jay Garrick/Barry Allen) and Green Lantern (Alan Scott/Hal Jordan) were separate individuals using the same identity on different earths while the Trinity were always Bruce, Clark, and Diana.

The easiest way to cover the Batman entries would be to start with the similarities:

Both Batmen are named Bruce Wayne and hail from Gotham City

Parents were named Thomas and Martha Wayne

Both have an uncle named Philip Wayne

Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered by Joe Chill after leaving a movie theater. A traumatized Bruce witnessed the murders.

Bruce spent his formative years developing his mind and body to perfection.

Bruce adopted the Batman identity. A large bat crashing through a den in Wayne Manor inspired the creation of the Batman.

At first Batman had a rocky relationship with the police but later formed a partnership with Jim Gordon

Bruce took the recently orphaned Dick Grayson under his wing. Dick later became Robin the Boy Wonder.

And now, the details unique to each version:

Earth-Two:

While Thomas was shot by Joe Chill (causing his death), the shock of seeing his death caused Martha to have a fatal heart attack.

Bruce was placed under the guardianship of his Uncle Phillip who raised him to adulthood.

Bruce moved back into Wayne Manor after coming into his inheritance.

Batman carried a gun in his first few cases but soon gave it up.

He was a charter member of the Justice Society and the All-Star Squadron.

He maintained his playboy image until the late 1950s, when he married Selina Kyle (Catwoman).

He semi-retired the Batman identity once he reached middle age and became the Gotham City Police Commissioner upon Jim Gordon’s retirement.

Bruce and Selena had a daughter named Helena.

Selina died at the hands of a former criminal colleague, inspiring Helena to become the Huntress. Bruce gave up the Batman identiy entirely after Selina’s death.

A year after the debut of the Huntress, Bruce donned the Batman uniform for the final time. He died aiding the Justice Society, saving Gotham from a super-powered criminal.

Relatives unique to Earth-Two Bruce: Selina Kyle (wife), Helena Wayne (daughter), and Karl Kyle (brother-in-law).

Earth-One:

Relatives unique to Earth-One Bruce: Lord Elwood Wayne (uncle, deceased)

A young (pre-murders) Bruce Wayne admired a costume Thomas wore to a party. It would later inspire the creation of the Batman uniform.

Joe Chill was acting under the orders of Lew Moxon. Moxon was seeking revenge against Thomas Wayne as his testimony had sent Moxon to prison.

Bruce way placed under the care of his uncle Philip. Philip was a world-class traveler, so Bruce spent his formative years under the guidance of Philip’s housekeeper, Mrs. Chilton. Unknown to Bruce, Chilton was Joe Chill’s mother.

Bruce served an apprenticeship under Harvey Harris (the world’s foremost detective) while training to be Batman.

Frustrated by laws that seemed to help criminals more than their victims, Bruce left law school.

As on Earth-Two, Bruce took Dick Grayson under his wing. The difference being that Dick’s costume was inspired by the one Bruce wore while serving as an apprentice under Harvey Harris.

Bruce left his playboy image for a time and devoted himself to running Wayne Enterprises and building the Wayne Foundation into one of the world’s foremost philanthropic organizations. He later relinquished his day-to-day involvement in the organizations to devote more time to being Batman.

Bruce has recently become the guardian of Jason Todd, a young circus performer whose parents were murdered by Croc. Todd has since become the new Robin.

Batman, a founding member of the Justice League, has recently resigned due to a philosophical dispute over law and justice.

He has recently formed a new team called the Outsiders.

The next few entries are of Batman’s utility belt, the Batmobile, the Batplane, and the Batboat. Mostly drawings with some basic information.

Everybody knows Batman. Ask any non-comic book fans to name a superhero, and you have a ninety percent chance of the person responding with Batman. He’s had a bazillion comic books where he is the focus and has made millions of guest appearances in other comics. As for non-comic book media…he’s easily the most featured hero of all time. No one else comes close. Batman has starred in radio dramas, multiple movies and tv series, along with many cartoon series and animated movies. And numerous video games. Not to mention all the merchandising.

Whether you love or hate the character, if you were to make a list of the top 100 super-heroes of all time, you would have a hard time justifying not putting Batman in the #1 spot.

I love certain versions of Bruce (the bronze age, BTAS/DCAU, Justice League International, Young Justice cartoon, Wayne Family Adventures) and despise others (the majority of the 2000s).

As for the actual Who’s Who entries:

I miss the Bruce – Selina marriage. The cop-out during the King run was lame. And infuriating if you spent money on all the tie-in issues (which I did not).

I wish Helena would be born during curing continuity (I know adult Helena is running with the JSA but I want baby Helena just for the interactions with her bat-siblings).

If the “Bruce was placed under a housekeeper’s care while his guardian travelled the world” bit was canon in the post-Crisis era it would have been a great element to add to the Bruce-Tim Drake bond.

I don’t like the Dick’s costume was inspired by Bruce bit. Dick’s Robin indentiy is inspired by his parents only.

I hate Jason’s pre-Crisis origin. “He’s exactly like Dick but with red hair but we’ll dye it black” – that’s the best you could do, DC? Seriously?