ETHEL CAIN FOR ENFANTS RICHES DÉPRIMÉS A/H 24

Can we, for a second, think about the fact that Hannibal dressed Will before he carried him home through the snow?

Will is naked when he's about to get the face surgery from Cordell. We see a scene of him in the operation chair where he's shirtless, lower body covered by a hospital blanket. Hannibal, who cut himself free from the ropes that were holding him captive on Muskrat farm, who then killed a large sum of Mason's staff including trained security and surgeons, saves him before Will's face gets removed. This all happens off-screen. The next scene is Hannibal carrying Will (bridal style) through the snow. In this scene Will is dressed, including a jacket for the cold and all that. Imagine Hannibal, the violent beast we saw when he killed Mason's men, blood probably still on his hands, finding Will there. Unconscious, and then dressing him. Dressing someone is a very intimate thing, especially someone unconscious. It requires care and gentleness. That, and knowing how to handle a body and loving someone enough to dress them while they don't need to be. He buttoned his buttons for him, tied his shoes, put him in a jacket to make sure he wouldn't get cold - I mean, Hannibal himself doesn't even wear a jacket in that scene. There's blood and wounds all over Hannibal's face, he's exhausted and probably the one in the most physical danger, yet he takes care of Will before he takes care of himself.

This hits even harder if you think about why they ended up in Muskrat farm in the first place. In Florence, Hannibal tried to 'eat' Will. He tried to split his head open with a bone saw. That intense violence, the grotesque and desperate nature of those actions makes a perfect and sharp contrast to him saving Will after outside forces try to take their lives, which is a heroically gentle and intimate action. He didn't have to dress him up like that, he didn't have to carry him that way, but he did. Hannibal fails to kill Will in Florence, and with that he fails his last attempt to get rid of his feelings for Will. Or at least, to make his feelings bearable. He thinks that he can control himself better when Will is dead, so he tries to kill him but he fails. Not because he's stopped, but simply because he can't do it. If Hannibal wanted him dead, Will would have been dead. Mason's men only interrupted his theatrics. They gave him a reason to put away the saw and act like it was purely their fault, but then Will is in danger at the farm and Hannibal does everything in his power to save him and get him home safe and well. At home he takes off his jacket, literally lays him in bed and tucks him in. He covers Will with a blanket, he tries to write mathematical formulas to reverse time and cleans his wounds. That's why Will's rejection when he wakes up is so tragic and hard to watch. It breaks Hannibal, unbreakable and inhuman Hannibal Lecter. It simply hurts him enough to break his heart. It breaks him enough to give up everything he ever lived for and surrender to the FBI, which he spent a lifetime running from. He does this because when he decided to save Will, he realised he would never get over the things he felt for him. In Hannibal's mind, the worst thing that can happen is never seeing Will again. He finally realised that, after everything, and that's why he surrenders to the FBI.

Hannibal honey, you don't want to eat his brain. You just wanted him to love you.

It's subtle details like this that always stick to me afterwards. It's just another thought I had and I felt like sharing.

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."

— fatima aamer bilal, from being unwanted is a language

once i beat the depression and the burnout and the anxiety and the loneliness and the exhaustion and the guilt and the awkwardness and the apathy and the low income and the chronic illness and the impatience and the vulnerability and the creative block and the capitalism and the cruelty THEN you'll see

this quote is so funny to me because yeah no shit. why do you think we ship them babe????😭 why do you think we find their depth and complexity fascinating? why do you think we find the angst and the tension delicious? why do you think we want them covered in each other’s blood? why do you think we like rough and violent hate sex?

“maturing is realizing this is not the look of love” what’s next? maturing is realizing murders shown in horror movies are bad if applied to irl scenarios? maturing is realizing gore depicted in slasher films are not good if applied to irl scenarios?

maturing is realizing it’s fucking fiction and being able to separate that from reality 😭 you grow tf up and stop being chronically online please. or better yet, try watching nbc hannibal and figuring out why they call will and hannibal murder husbands.

maturing is knowing this is fiction and it’s hot.

i miss joel miller a little more everyday

opening up tumblr in the morning as if i’m an old man reading his newspaper

the fanfiction in my head is soooo good wish you guys could see this

actually the main reason i think gi-hun is a good person despite his flaws is because of this:

after all that happened in the first games and he was able to go home with the money to pay for his mothers treatment, he found his mother dead. any other person would be broken and would have likely ended their life at some point or become completely destroyed.

but what does he do? he picks himself up and once he realizes the games are still going on, he dedicates his life to making sure no one else has to go through this.

yet people want to complain about him not getting on that plane. yes his daughter deserves to have her father in her life, but her life isn’t threatened and she has a stable support system. he was willing to actively risk his life to save hundreds of others from death and trauma.

i dont care what yall say. gi hun has a good heart and doesn’t deserve some of the hate he gets.