Happy Birthday, Grace!! Ily And Hope You Have An Amazing Day

Six months have passed since Will pulled them over the cliff. Even in light of their progressing relationship, much of Hannibal still remains a mystery to Will. For reasons unknown, he’s begun to pull away.

A sequel to my housewife Hannibal fic!

obsessed with post-fall hannigram domesticity. cleaning blood from each others wounds. quiet naps next to each other. gentle hands in hair, loving and soft. gazes at each other just to marvel. strong winters where one comes back covered in snow, just to have the other pull their wet clothes off and tuck them in soft blankets, giving them tea to warm up. showering together after killing, not shower sex, but gentle touches, one holding the other to their chest. post-fall hannigram domesticity.

Guide Me Through Morass, My Love

Post-Fall. Hannibal wakes up in the Republic of Ireland with amnesia, and is mentally 18 years-old. He finds himself stowed away in a cottage bordered by farmland with a man who knows him intimately—a man by the name of Will. Falling in love and losing one's virginity beneath the scorching sun is not at all intentional, but it feels akin to being revived and bared and bound into new skin—a rebirth.

Here is chapter one of my newest fic (a two parter)!

i was not expecting the parallels (or the matching bangs) please this is so funny 😭

"all i wanted" is Hannibal's anthem in the bshci

Hannibal would definitely be a paramore girly pop.

careful? all i wanted? monster? i caught myself? that's what you get? brick by boring brick? misery business? decode? the only exception? ignorance? ain't it fun?

all on repeat.

hannibal lecter apologists rise up

when the objectively bad person has traumatic and honestly reasonable reasons for why theyre like that but it doesnt excuse their actions and only serves to make them more tragic as a character

came across this quote on tiktok:

"when you are not fed love on a silver spoon you learn to lick it off knives."

tell me that ain't Hannibal y'all 😭

me rn because you get me like no one else.

everything you said, specifically:

whereas, the speculative lens asks, "if we treat this character as real, how might we explore their motivations, contradictions, and inner life?" (aka pretty much the whole point of fanfiction!)

but let's take a step over to the speculative lens and consider that same line. it opens up an avenue for writers (and whoever) to explore Hannibal's vulnerability, psyche, and all of his contradictions in a way that feels authentic to our own human experience, EVEN IF it isn't aligned with the show's narrative goals.

instead of taking Hannibal's assertion at face value as a definitive truth, we get to explore how and why this idea that he's free from external influence would play into his own sense of self, as well as his carefully curated public persona.

both of these lenses are useful and good! they can and should co-exist with one another! and i think we all pretty seamlessly shift between the two lenses depending on whether or not we're in the mood for a larger thematic exploration or looking for an opportunity to personalize, empathize, humanize (etc.) the story in ways that the original narrative simply couldn't.

you are so right. fanfic authors are allowed to explore a character's vulnerability and possible trauma if it interests them. fanfics don't have to be cut and dry and stick to canon. i need some oomph to my angst and hurt/comfort.

if writing about a vulnerable version of Hannibal is wrong then i don't want to be right. i'm reading Hannibal Rising and it sheds light on how Hannibal's childhood was in fact impacted by what he went through. ignoring his trauma (something major that shaped his childhood) would make him the same as any other serial killer. Hannibal's childhood experience makes him unique and there is nothing wrong with exploring how that could possibly impact his day to day life as an adult. i'll be pondering and writing about Hannibal's vulnerability until the day i croak.

hey so can we talk about how characters in fiction are not autonomous individuals, but tools crafted to explore themes and provoke emotional/intellectual responses?

and more specifically, maybe also include how reducing Hannibal's actions to mere "evil" obscures his symbolic role as a disruptor of societal norms?

and maybe, MAYBE (if we have time), then carry the conversation into how focusing solely on Hannibal's morality erases the show's intended commentary on human behavior, repression, and connection?

please?

worrying you may have skin cancer because you've had a new weird spot on your body since february of last year (and it never goes away and is raised and definitely not a mole similar to other moles you've had your entire life) yet being scared to get it checked because medical debt is terrifying and the wait for an appointment is highkey long as hell is literally america core and i'm so tired of dumb out of touch bitches like conservatives and tr*mp and m*sk saying stuff like 'we're the land of the free and should be proud.' it's not free if you're not fucking rich. it's not free if you can't even go to a doctor when you really need it because insurance is fucking useless and not at all helpful in putting a dent in the insane medical bills you end up with. medical bills in america can be life ruining and that shit terrifies me. also if it is in fact skin cancer, i'd rather live in oblivion because treatment would be way too fucking expensive. so if i ever stop posting my fics one day out of the blue without announcing why its probably because i'm dead from possible skin cancer. god i wish i was born somewhere in europe or canada where healthcare is seen as a human right instead of viewed as a fucking privilege 😔

One of my weird headcanons that I feel like sharing:

Hannibal has a stuffed animal of Mischa’s that he purchased or made himself for her, and that she cherished very much. He somehow managed to keep it through the chaos following her death and his time in the orphanage, maybe by hiding it somewhere and retrieving it later. He keeps it with him all his life, the only thing of hers not buried in a grave. He can’t bear to look at it too often, but if he goes too long without seeing it he gets paranoid that it’s gone, disappeared like everything else that ever mattered to him.