Squit Game 2 Teasers Got Me Acting Unwise…….

When I was little, probably 7 or 8, I spent a summer working in the library at our church helping out the elderly woman who ran it. It was no bigger than a large broom closet but we had a notable amount of religious books for all age ranges as well as an extensive collection of cassette recordings of every Sunday sermon going back a decade or two. I'd sit in there all day helping her catalog the index cards and keep record of who had borrowed what. We wrote on index cards all day long and listened to the recorded sermons, which included the choir's worship service at the beginning. "Nearer, My God, To Thee" was always my favorite hymn by a long shot. I wanted to emulate listening to it on the tiny tape player in that little library for Perverts. It's a fond memory of mine, just wanted to share :)

dangerously yours

not feeling seen is gut wrenching. no wonder Will and Hannigram went psychos over each other.

BTS 2013-2023 PHOTO COLLECTION #2024BTSFESTA

said his love language was physical touch so i beat his ass

THIS is what shouldve happened.

Fic Snippet

Title: The Other Half of Me

Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Summary: He finds Hannibal, as he expected, sitting in front of the Primavera. He lays eyes on him for the first time since Hannibal gutted him and it feels like the world sharpens into focus, though he had been unaware of the blurry edges before this moment. Will stares at the expanse of Hannibal’s back and he aches.

~

Prompt - "So much about this feels like a dream."

A Dolce divergent inspired by two of Lisa's beautiful paintings [x]

~~~~

As Will walks through the sprawling halls of the Uffizi he still does not know what he is going to do once he finally finds Hannibal. Two desires still war in his breast, yearning and retribution at odds within him - conflicting feelings that have plagued him since his imprisonment, they followed him from his cell back into Hannibal’s office and they refused to leave him even when his blood spilled in rivers across Hannibal’s kitchen floor as he desperately clutched Abigail’s neck in his hand. Even having the thought of his own child taken away and his surrogate child stolen from him a second time haven’t extinguished his desire, nor did betraying Hannibal sate his wrath. He remains stuck in limbo, chasing the shadows of Hannibal and Abigail in his mind. 

He finds Hannibal, as he expected, sitting in front of the Primavera. He lays eyes on him for the first time since Hannibal gutted him and it feels like the world sharpens into focus, though he had been unaware of the blurry edges before this moment. Will stares at the expanse of Hannibal’s back and he aches. He walks forward slowly, limping a little, and watches the slightest tilt of Hannibal’s head - an acknowledgement of Will’s presence as he no doubt catches his scent. Will steps up to the bench and cannot control the urge to touch, to make sure Hannibal is real in front of him, and he lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. The warmth of Hannibal’s body is searing against his palm, even through the layers of clothing. Hannibal looks up at him and smiles, something soft and genuine, an expression Will has very rarely seen before and his heart twists in his chest. He sits beside Hannibal and can feel his eyes on him, he gazes back and simply absorbs Hannibal - both of them battered and bruised as they sit before the glorious painting. There you are.

“If I saw you every day, forever, Will, I would remember this time.” 

Will can’t help the way he smiles at the almost ridiculously sweet sentiment, yet he can feel the honesty of those words and read it in the softness of Hannibal’s expression and his tender amber eyes. He has no doubt that Hannibal truly means those words. He can feel the thorn of wrath and retribution ease, his anger and hurt melting as he, not for the first time, feels the urge to kiss the other man.

He sighs, “Strange seeing you here in front of me. Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven't been in years. I wanted to understand you before I laid eyes on you again. I needed it to be clear... what I was seeing.” He needed to find some clarity, to learn as much as he could about what made Hannibal the man he is and chase those pieces Hannibal kept so deeply buried. He needs to be sure that what he sees when he looks at Hannibal, that the emotions he perceives from him are rooted in reality and not a thread of his own deep yearning. 

“Where does the difference between the past and the future come from?” Hannibal asks, his voice low and the cadence reminds Will of the dark, quiet hours in Hannibal’s office and dining room. 

“Mine?” Will says softly as he looks at Hannibal, he has barely taken his eyes off him since he sat down, choosing to stare at him rather than the exquisite painting on the wall, “Before you and after you. Yours? It's all starting to blur. Mischa. Abigail. Chiyoh.”

“How is Chiyoh?” 

“She pushed me off a train.”

“Atta girl.” Hannibal remarks with mirth.

Will casts a glance to the sketch pad on Hannibal’s lap, a rendition of Zephyrus and Chloris etched onto the page, his own and Bedelia’s face stare back at him. He looks up at the painting and words slip from his lips, “You and I have begun to blur.”

“Isn't that how you found me?” Hannibal asks. 

“Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail's murder, every murder... stretching backward and forward in time.” It’s a strange and disquieting sensation, to feel so connected to Hannibal that they almost exist as one being, one soul separated into two bodies but forever tied. 

“Freeing yourself from me and... me freeing myself from you, they are the same.” In this moment Will knows Hannibal feels the same, it is just as difficult for Hannibal to sever their connection and Will wonders if he feels the same sense of being torn in half in his indecision. 

“We're conjoined.” Will says with a faint smile, “I'm curious whether either of us can survive separation.” As he says the words it finally clicks and his inner conflict falls quiet. Oh. I’ve been looking for you my whole life and I didn't even realise it. In the end it’s ridiculously simple. The core of it all just muddied by their actions, clouded by a cycle of reciprocated violence. He feels like laughing. 

“Now is the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration nor forgiveness keep you from thinking.” 

Will knows that Hannibal is half expecting him to attack, to react with wrath, and part of him wants to - a desperate and wild impulse to lash out to hurt and mark and scar. But despite that, despite everything, Will finally makes a choice. 

He reaches out, broadcasting his movements and his empty hands as he moves closer to Hannibal, the other watches him sharply and Will wants to smirk because he knows Hannibal does not know what he’s doing. He admits he enjoys the fact Hannibal can’t predict him and, in times like this, it works in his favour. Will cups Hannibal’s face in his hands, his thumbs lightly stroke over the sharp cheekbones he has admired since they first met. He delights in the way Hannibal’s eyes widen just slightly and the hitch of his breath. Unable to wait any longer, to deny himself any longer, Will moves.

He presses his lips to Hannibal’s unmoving mouth and sighs softly. Kissing Hannibal is nothing and everything like he fantasised. Hannibal is warm and his lips are soft, Will swipes his tongue across Hannibal’s bottom lip and hums quietly at his first taste. For a split second Hannibal freezes, the clatter of his pencil hitting the floor is loud in the loaded silence, then he is a flurry of movement. Large hands roughly grasp Will’s lapels to haul him closer and the previously still lips roar to life, Hannibal’s mouth turns hungry and demanding - teeth nip Will’s lips and a hot tongue slides into his mouth when he moans. The kiss quickly devolves into something passionate and filthy and uncoordinated in the desperation to be closer. 

Will pulls away a little to catch his breath, feeling giddy when Hannibal growls and curls his fingers tighter in his jacket, absolutely refusing to let Will retreat. His head feels light and the room takes on a soft glow, everything feels slow and heavy and illuminated with sharp colours, the universe shrinking down to their embrace. 

“So much about this feels like a dream.” Will whispers against Hannibal’s lips, the man presses small hurried kisses to his mouth and jawline. So many times Will has dreamt of this moment, of Hannibal and himself coming together not in violence but in passion, demanding hands seeking pleasure rather than pain, kiss swollen lips in place of blood stained teeth. He presses his forehead against Hannibal’s and stares into the older man’s eyes which have turned molten with desire, appearing almost red. Part of Will fears this is a dream, a hallucination conjured by his mind in his deep longing for affection from Hannibal. But the pinch of pain from his scrapes and bruises, the wet sensation of Hannibal’s spit on his lips, is undeniably vivid and gloriously real.

Hannibal pulls at Will’s bottom lip with his teeth, "Will, you have to know, now you have kissed me I am never letting you go." his voice has turned husky and Will shivers. 

He captures Hannibal’s lips and kisses him deeply, licking into his mouth to taste him and greedily drinks the moan that crawls up Hannibal’s throat and spills across his tongue. Will pulls back barely an inch and looks at Hannibal meaningfully and whispers, "Maybe that’s just fine."

@/hisethelcain. “i'd save you but the world's bent” twitter, 14 nov 2020.

So, about the "You made me chicken soup" scene. Most people find it funny and think Hannibal gets slightly offended, but the first time I watched it, I thought it was actually sweet.

Will wakes up to the smell of food, sees what Hannibal has brought and is genuinely surprised. Chicken soup is what you prepare to your loved ones when they're sick (like Reba does for Francis in season 3). He's not used to having people taking care of him. That's why he tells Hannibal "You made me chicken soup", and Hannibal is somehow taken aback by his reaction, and pauses before answering "Yes", in a total different tone. Like he understands the meaning his gesture has for Will. I don't think he's annoyed by the fact that Will is reducing his fancy dish to a simple chicken soup. That "Yes" is an aknowledging of his affection for Will to Will.

And he turns away, as if he'd been caught off-guard too.