#hannibal gifs

[rocktheholygrail]

Hannibal (2013-2015)

[diidona]

THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (1991) • dir. Jonathan Demme

[its-ate-oclock-somewhere]

romeo & juliet, act ii, scene vi

[thisisajdesing]

this is so *********** ** ******

[mcgregor]

will graham ⬥ hannibal — jorge luis borges, “the other tiger”

[isitbrooksnook]

I haven't watched S3 yet but no grown man runs away with someone who's "just a friend."

Fucking GAY

Hannibal S2E13 Mizumono | S3E04 Aperitivo

[cece693]

ABSENCE MAKES THE BEAST DESPERATE

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader synopsis: You needed to attend a work conference, simple right? WRONG. Not even minutes after the front door closed, your husband, Hannibal, feels your absence and becomes dramatic as a result.

There are two kinds of silence in the Lecter home.

The first is cultivated: classical music drifting like smoke through the air, a simmering reduction whispering from the stovetop, knives kissing wood in rhythmic, reverent ceremony. This silence is artful. Composed. It is the kind Hannibal curates with intention, with care. He thrives in it. Polishes it like fine crystal.

The second silence is different.

It is not designed, but inflicted—a yawning, unbearable quiet that expands through the halls like a scream locked in its own ribcage. It lives in the empty chair at the dining table. In the untouched piano keys gathering dust. In the left side of the bed, cold and undisturbed. It lives in Hannibal, now hollowed and echoing in your absence.

The door had barely closed behind you when the world tilted off its axis. The house, too attuned to its occupants, seemed to sag inward. Hannibal noted the difference instantly: the walls no longer vibrated with your soft humming, no idle footsteps wandered through the rooms, no shared laughter tucked itself into corners. Even the kitchen—once the heart of their evenings—felt abandoned.

No half-drunk coffee cooling on the counter.

No spare coat hung by the door.

Just silence.

He inhaled deeply, as if scent might restore what was lost, but the air held nothing. And that absence, that hollowness where you had been, stirred something in him that felt uncomfortably close to panic.

Within the first hour of your departure, Hannibal was in your closet. His fingers ghosted over your jackets like a priest thumbing rosary beads, desperate for salvation. Every stitch, every crease, smelled like you. When he pressed your favorite sweater to his face, the sigh that escaped him was almost obscene in its hunger.

He did not eat dinner that night.

Of course, he prepared it—he still had his rituals. A perfect cut of lamb, rosemary crushed slowly between thumb and forefinger, wine decanted and left to breathe. But it was a hollow performance, a stage set with no actor, no audience. He plated two servings by habit, then stared at the second one like it was a tombstone.

You weren’t there. So Hannibal didn’t eat.

Instead, he sat in your chair by the fire, wearing your old university sweatshirt—the one with sleeves too long, the fabric faded from years of devotion. It clashed horrendously with his pressed trousers and house slippers, but he wore it like armor. Or mourning garb. He curled into it, burying his nose in the collar like a creature trying to remember spring.

Time passed, but it no longer had meaning.

He watched the clock more than he read. Each second ticked like a needle stitching your absence deeper into his chest. It was grotesque, this longing—an ache so profound it made him nauseous. He, who had once held human hearts in his palms with surgical precision, found himself unraveling over the shape of your absence.

By the second night, Hannibal had abandoned even pretense.

He moved your pillow to his side of the bed, curled around it like a beast mourning a lost mate. One of your hoodies joined the growing collection of garments strewn across his lap and shoulders like sacred relics. He tucked your scarf into his collar and dabbed your cologne beneath his ears.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Only your return could reanimate him.

And you were due back tonight.

Hannibal had tracked your itinerary to the second—your flight, your drive from the airport, the weather conditions that might delay you. So when your car finally turned onto the long driveway and the lock clicked in the door, he was already there.

No warning. No restraint.

He collided with you like a tidal wave breaking against rock—desperate, powerful, breathless. His arms wrapped around you tightly, face pressed into the crook of your neck as though trying to merge into your skin. The inhale he took was ragged, the exhale like the gasp of a drowning man finding shore.

“You’re here,” he murmured, voice wet with relief. “You’re here.”

You set your bag down, causing Hannibal to cling to you tighter, the fine bones of his hands shaking slightly against your back.

“I wore your clothes,” he confessed into your skin, the words shamefully intimate. “I steeped your tea too long. I slept on your side of the bed. I didn’t eat. I��” he paused, almost wincing— “I wore your bathrobe to the mailbox. The neighbors saw.”

You pulled back, startled. “You what?”

“Your scent,” he said in a hushed, reverent voice. “It lives in the seams. I needed to feel you. You left me to rot in a mausoleum of silence. And for what? Business meetings?”

You exhaled an incredulous laugh. “It was a medical conference, Hannibal.”

“Worse.”

His hands slid down to your waist, refusing to let go. He was actually trembling a little. You’d seen Hannibal after surgeries, after murders, after long opera nights—never shaken. Never soft like this. “I’ve decided,” he said gravely. “You are no longer allowed to work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You will stay home. With me. I will provide for us. For the rest of our lives.”

“Hannibal—”

“I refuse to go another night without the sound of your breathing beside me. I couldn’t even sleep.” He pulled back slightly, eyes gleaming, a faint flush of something almost boyish in his cheeks. “I was like Orpheus in the underworld, except you didn’t look back.”

You laughed, incredulous. “You’re comparing a medical conference in Chicago to the descent into the underworld?”

“Yes,” he said, without hesitation.

And you kissed him—because how could you not? Because there was something unhinged and heartbreaking and utterly beautiful in the way he grieved you as if you’d died. The way your absence had peeled back his polished veneer and revealed a man undone.

He melted into the kiss like a starving thing, a low sound escaping his throat, hands tangling in your coat as if anchoring himself to life. You pulled back only slightly, brushing his hair behind one ear.

“Oh, my poor, miserable cannibal.”

[bowiespawan]

This is what the ravenstag would look like if it appeared in Handle With Care.

Sometimes I just want to draw cute critters 😩

[rocktheholygrail]

happy 10th anniversary of this episode to those who celebrate! 🥳🎉

[stagphotographer]

no comment

ooc: so down bad , I will never get over that scene

[suchawrathfullamb]

Heaven, when I held you again.

How could we ever just be friends?

I would rather die than let you go. Juliet to your Romeo.

[mcgregor]

WILL GRAHAM Hannibal • Amuse-Bouche

[bloodydancy]

Hannibal S2E05 Mukōzuke

[moth-hannibal]

You all need to see this deleted scene from S1!

https://youtu.be/aP44Ke4z5-Q?feature=shared

Takes place right after Will's escaped the prison transport vehicle; before we see him take Hannibal to Minnesota.

(Really, really shit quality GIFs, to convince you to actually go and watch the damn thing. Great scene.)

[scarletdreamers]

Do you have any opinions on how Hannibal is seen by some as a figure of masculinity, but others see him as a more genderqueer figure?

I love this question, and yes, I certainly do!

Hannibal is a very special case when it comes to gender(stereo)typical image. Some see him as the epitome of masculinity, while others consider him genderless of mind, outside his biological identification as a man. Why is that the case, and how can someone be both at the same time?

Let’s start off with masculinity. I think that the main reason he’s seen as a highly masculine figure by some is his looks. It’s simple. He’s a generally tall, muscled, broad-shouldered man. One could argue that Mads has one of the most masculine faces in the world. His bone structure is razor sharp. High cheekbones, a square jawline, very light lashes which made them almost invisible, thin lips. These things are all the exact opposite of features that usually identify as feminine. Aka big lips, round shapes, a soft expression, thick lashes, etc. Mads’ masculine presentation also counters Hugh Dancy’s, which kind of enhances it. Hugh Dancy has a very androgynous face, made masculine by his beard, but when he’s clean shaven he has male as well as female characteristics. He has a ‘’beautiful/pretty’’ face, which makes Mads lean more towards handsome or imposing. Hannibal also has an incredibly stoic face and expression. Stoicism is, within gender profiling, a concept associated with masculinity (as women are seen as more expressive and emotional). Mads, and with that Hannibal, has a very manly appearance, which is usually the thing people notice first. 

I think something that makes people perceive him as very masculine is the fact that Hannibal has a very dominant personality. He’s always the bigger person, the guide, the lead. He commands respect and attention. Dominance is, as we all know, also a ‘’masculine’’ trait on the gender wheel (which I, as a feminist, don’t necessarily agree with). It also has to do with the position and stereotypical role of the man in a sexual context. Especially because Hannibal is a very sensual character. He’s ‘’older’’, attractive, charming and mysterious. He’s a hedonist, I’d say. People who are attracted to him more likely think about him in a dominant position, thus making him traditionally ‘’masculine’’ to some. His habit of rarely showing emotion (only when he really wants to) has to do with control. Usually, those who see him as a very masculine figure, associate these personality traits with true manliness. 

Now the funny thing is that Hannibal’s ‘’surface’’ really is the only very characteristically masculine thing about him. By surface I mean his appearance and his social personality, the top layer of the personality he decides to display in public. When you dive deeper into his hobbies and emotions, he suddenly transforms into a more fluid character. Not really one gender anymore, but something above the concept.

Before talking about this, I’d like to point out his clearly ‘’feminine’’ side, like his clearly masculine side above. 

You could say that Hannibal’s emotional nature is feminine. Hannibal is, despite being able to control it very well, a deeply sensitive man. Way more so than Will, Jack, or even Alana, who is very clear and open in her emotions. He feels everything very deeply, understands things and feels them in his core. He cries, more than we often believe and see. He has no shame crying at the opera, he probably has no shame crying over other forms of art (poetry, visual arts, music, dance, etc). In season 3A he cries because of his situation with Will (whether it is because he feels betrayed or because he feels like he hurt Will/let him down). He’s never angry, but he cries and expresses his emotions through melancholy rather than rage. If we put female and male emotional stereotypes next to each other, anger (loudness, yelling, aggression) is considered a masculine outing of emotions. Whereas melancholy (crying, held-back, introspective, soft) is considered feminine. Hannibal and his ways of coping with emotions are traditionally way more feminine-leaning than masculine. 

There’s also the thing that in a classic ‘’playing house’’ setup, Hannibal would be the motherly figure. From a traditional point of view, at least. In this part I’m talking only about ingrained social perceptions, things I don’t necessarily agree with as someone who doesn’t support the concept of ‘’gender roles’’. It’s blatantly stereotypical and downright offensive to water a domestic male-male relationship down to traditional roles and the empty shell of the ‘’who’s the mother and who’s the father’’ question. But, as goes for everything, these ideals and stereotypes are so deeply ingrained in society we often don’t even know we unconsciously project these ideas on how we see, for example, relationships like Will and Hannibals. Will is the typical American dad. He likes to fish, likes to work with his hands, and would be emotionally distant if he had a child. He’s the one to sit down at dinner after a long day at work with a cold beer afterwards. Hannibal would be the one to cook, to make the schedules and do the planning, etc. Will is the raw, tough, rural type. Whereas Hannibal is refined, elegant, committed, and the type to serve. All he really wants is to please Will, however way that might be. Will would never be that kind of person. In this domestic scenario including Will, Hannibal would take on a more feminine role. 

It’s important to note that I think this is only visible to those who ever considered this specific setup. If you’ve never thought about what they would be like as a pair, this might have never been a factor in the perception of Hannibal as a character before. There’s people who think the most important thing about Hannibal is Will. His feelings for him and the way Will changed him. This usually leads to seeing Hannibal in a more genderqueer light because in the context of a relationship, Will would take the more masculine/fatherly role. For those who don’t think Will is the centre of Hannibal’s character, but who see him rather as one of many planets floating around the sun which all equally impact Hannibal’s life, this might not be the case. When focusing on Hannibal alone, separate from Will, he’s a more masculine figure. 

If you balance these two, his actions and feelings being more feminine, his appearance and character being more masculine, you get this strange mindset which ends up being neither of the two. This is why some/many people consider him mentally genderqueer or neutral. It’s not about him actually identifying as anything other than a male. It’s about the way both genders (and everything in between) are able to identify with him, because he doesn’t explicitly think like either. He thinks like himself, like Hannibal Lecter, not like a man or a woman. It’s a sign of intelligence, to have a mentality both men and women can relate to without having to abandon their own gender related ideals. He feels and likes things that make him Hannibal, not that make him either male or female. That’s why so many people are so fond of him. He both attracts and interests everyone. It’s part of his charm as a character.

Hannibal’s mind is genderless. His hobbies don’t have a gender code smacked on them. He likes art, cooking, reading and music. All universal interests many people (often of higher intelligence/status) have. He has style, as well in his clothes as his interior choices and other preferences, which everyone with good taste can appreciate. His reputation is that of a respected professional, a good host, an overly polite person and a good friend. All gender neutral. He’s attracted to men and women and doesn’t seem to have a preference, either. He’s very open minded. Progressive. Far beyond most of us. He appreciated beauty above all, and, honestly, who amongst us doesn’t? 

It truly depends on how well one understands and knows his character when it comes to whether someone views him as very masculine or genderqueer. For people who don’t look very deeply into him, he’s usually an ideally masculine man. For those who care to spit through his character a little deeper he’s borderless. His mind isn’t tied down to the societal construct of masculinity or femininity. He’s a man, but he’s so many things before that. Like a myth. His gender is the least interesting thing about him, and that’s why he appears as a more fluid figure. Hannibal doesn’t do borders and boxes. You could never confine him to any. This goes for anything, including the gender ideal he represents.