hello, doctor gordon.

[bloodypuzzle]

I AM THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD — & I AM THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT.

an independent & highly selective roleplay blog for Dr. Lawrence Gordon from the Saw franchise. written by Dawn. dash only. due to the nature of the content in the films and thusly on this blog, no interaction will take place with any mun under the age of 21. trigger warnings for this blog include — blood, gore, medical gore, murder, dismemberment, torture, horrifying imagery, self - harm, kidnapping, physical assault, & abuse.

regulations. medical file. wiki page. headcanons. threads. verses. tags.

[bloodypuzzle]

Mutuals, feel free to hit the heart for something from Lawrence !! I have been rewatching the Saw films, and he is kicking around up there again.

[leneemusing]

BLOOD RELATED PROMPTS

requested by my bestie 

WORDS: 

“  is that your blood?  ”

“  woah—  hold up you’re bleeding.  ”

“  your bandages— you’re bleeding through them.  ”

“  shit,  i think i pulled my stitches.  ”

“  i’ll make them bleed for this.  ”

“  a little blood never never hurt anyone.  ”

“  why the fuck is there blood on the carpet?  ”

“  your nose is bleeding.  ”

“  you can make me bleed all you want,  i’ll never scream for you.  ”

“  you don’t understand,  i had to do it.  i had to kill them.  ”

“  stop fussing— this isn’t my blood.  ”

“  i did what was necessary.  ”

“  why are you bleeding?  what happened?  ”

“  who hurt you?  why is there blood all over you?  ”

“  i think you’ll look quite pretty when you bleed.  ”

“  who did you kill?  whose blood is that?  ”

“  i’m not usually a sadistic sort of person,  but i will take pleasure in spilling your blood.  ”

“  i don’t actually enjoy killing.  it’s messy.  the blood gets everywhere.  it’s just necessary sometimes.  ”

“  it looked kind of beautiful in a fucked up sort of way.  blood on snow.  the kind of thing you usually only see in stories.  ” 

“  i can’t get it off—  i can still feel it on me!  ”

“  just calm down.  breathe.  i’ll take care of this.  ”

“  hold still— you’ve got blood on your face.  ”

“  why is there blood on your knife?  ”

“  oh,  it’s just a little bit of blood.  don’t nutsack out.  ”

“  i’m going to drain every ounce of your blood.  nice and slow.  like you deserve.  ”  

“  i’ll kill anyone who ever makes you bleed again.  ”

“  your/their blood is just too pretty to keep inside.  ”

“  there’s something fascinating about blood.  it’s captivating. ”

“  blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb.  ”

“  you made me bleed on my shirt—  i fucking loved this shirt!  ”

“  leave me alone,  it’s shark week and i got blood on my sheets.  ”

“  should i be concerned about why there’s blood in the sink?  ”

“  do i ask questions or do i just help you clean up all this blood?  ”

ACTIONS: 

[ ALONE ]  for sender to show up on receiver’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ ARRIVE ] for receiver to show up on sender’s doorstep covered in blood. 

[ CLEANSE ] for sender to find receiver trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ DISCOVER ] for receiver to find sender trying to clean blood off themselves. 

[ AID ] for sender to help receiver clean blood off themselves. 

[ ERASE ] for receiver to help sender clean blood off themselves. 

[ ESCAPE ] for sender to find receiver after they’ve killed someone. 

[ SEEN ] for receiver to find sender after they’ve killed someone. 

[ HELP ] for sender to clean up the aftermath of receiver’s crime. 

[ ACCEPT ] for receiver to clean up the aftermath of sender’s crime. 

[ FOUND ] for sender to discover receiver covered in blood. 

[ EXPOSE ] for receiver to discover sender covered in blood. 

[ ATTACK ] for sender to stab or shoot receiver. 

[ WOUNDED ] for receiver to stab or shoot sender. 

[ BROKE ] for sender to punch receiver hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ INJURE ] for receiver to punch sender hard enough their nose bleeds. 

[ WITNESS ] for sender to see receiver get hurt enough to bleed.  

[ WATCH ] for receiver to see sender get hurt enough to bleed. 

[ RETALIATE ] for sender to make receiver’s attacker bleed. 

[ DEFEND ] for receiver to make sender’s attacker bleed. 

[ SURVIVE ] for sender to realize receiver is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

[ FABRIC ] for receiver to realize sender is bleeding after getting through a fight. 

[bloodypuzzle]

It's been a little bit since I posted one of these, so !! here is my most up - to - date muse list. ♡ Also known as : where in the world to find Dawn.

Lawrence Gordon [ Saw ] — @bloodypuzzle

Jacob Hel [ OC ] — @evilsontherun

Harmony Cobel [ Severance ] — @thisiamowed

[prayerdevil]

Diana cooed up at Lawrence. The oncologist grimaced as he shifted her into the crook of his arm. She was barely a day old, so small and wrinkled and new -- but she felt like a cinder block at times, pulling on his fresh incisions. Still, he refused to put her down. To call him obsessed would be an understatement.

Lawrence looked up at the sound of Matt coming into the room, accompanied by the rich aroma of bagged lunch that wasn't hospital - made. "Welcome back, darling," Lawrence said softly. "You only missed a bad diaper ; a nurse was kind enough to change it for me." Lawrence's stomach growled, and he smiled tiredly. "You truly are my hero for that. I now have more than enough experience with the cafeteria to pity my own patients here." The flash of his teeth emphasized how his grin deepened at the double - edged humor. // @bloodypuzzle

It was amazing how easily Lawrence and their daughter’s presence seemed to calm Matt down. He could argue that he had a good reason for being frazzled—being a new father would do that to anyone—but when his lover was the one who got sliced open, Matt thought the least he could do was to be a steady pillar for him to rely on.

Cane tapping on the floor, Matt made his way to the side of Lawrence’s bed, and once he felt the side of his table with the back of his hand, the container was set atop it.

“You know I’ll take any excuse to spoil you.” Matt sat at the edge of Lawrence’s bed, feeling briefly for his cheek before leaning over to kiss him gently. It was a careful manoeuvre; he didn’t want to jostle the infant too much.

“And Diana… including changing her diapers.”

Pulling back, Matt's fingers traced the shell of Lawrence's ear. “You two were okay while I was gone?”

[bloodypuzzle]

Lawrence couldn't help but chuckle into the kiss. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the pain medicine coursing through his veins, maybe it was the overwhelming love in him at getting to meet their daughter properly for the first time — but he had not felt this light ( or giddy, frankly ) in many, many years. The oncologist's blues stared at Matt, surprisingly alert in spite of the dark circles beneath them and chirping monitors near his bed. He smiled tenderly.

"We were fine," Lawrence replied. "Aside from that diaper, it was honestly boring. She ate more ; I am amazed at the appetite she has. There's . . . nothing to her. If I was not subject to the after - effects, I would doubt she was really getting it all in." He laughed again, breathy and soft.

"Speaking of food — do you want to hold her while I eat, Matt ?? " Lawrence turned his head in order to rest his face against the heel of Matt's hand. [ try to eat, ] he failed to say. He was back to the nausea due to the cocktail of drugs in his system, but his team claimed that would pass. "Her bassinet is beside you, otherwise."

[prayerdevil]

@bloodypuzzle, plotted starter.

Once before, when Matt had been missing Lawrence miserably and Foggy had gotten sick of his moping, he’d stated that their arrangement had rules for a good reason. Foggy, of course, had only thrown his hands in the air and said something along the lines of—

“This is why you don’t fuck someone else’s husband!”

—and Matt, because he loved him, had laughed, said “I know, Fog”, and then proceeded to have rough sex with Lawrence that Thursday.

To anyone with a brain, this was obviously a problem. Though Matt was perfectly capable of getting things done without seeing Lawrence for a spell, that didn’t mean he wasn’t constantly thinking about him. The worst thing about being able to hear at such a wide radius was resisting the urge to just find the man whenever he had free time; knowing himself to tend towards clingy, Matt did his best to resist employing that reality.

But, Christ, it’d almost been a month. And the rules of their arrangement certainly included making it clear when one or the other wished to stop.

They’d never made a strict timeline of when to contact each other. Matt, ever the spoiled child, simply got so used to the frequency of their meetings that anything longer than that made him want to crawl out of his own skin. Unfortunately, texting Lawrence again when he’d already sent three messages over the last few weeks was too mortifying to consider. So Matt had to opt for Plan B.

If only Foggy could see me now, Matt mused as he walked to the nearest Starbucks to Lawrence’s hospital. This was breaching some kind of boundary, he knew—they hardly ever saw each other professionally, save for that time Matt convinced the police to drop their accusations of Lawrence being the Jigsaw Killer—but the state of limbo was killing him. That and, in all honesty, Matt just missed him.

He caught Lawrence’s voice before he even entered the establishment, head turned ever so slightly to have his ear face the front door. Matt heard him state his order and raised both brows at the concept of Lawrence Gordon drinking a Frappuccino. When he entered, and the scent of coffee and city and people and food and goods and everything washed over him, a light twitch of the nose had him zeroing in on Lawrence alone. He heard that familiar walk, heard the movement of his clothes as he sat, heard the cushion sinking…

And, walking up to Lawrence’s table, the bottom of Matt’s cane pressed firmly in the floor as he stood by it.

“Hey,” he said, like Lawrence’s presence wasn’t electric. The hairs on his arms stood on end, even, getting to hear his heartbeat again. Getting to scent him again (and though his head tilted slightly in wonder at a noted difference in Lawrence’s profile, Matt didn’t dwell on that too long).

“Is this seat taken?”

[bloodypuzzle]

Lawrence slid into his seat, placed his silver briefcase on the table belonging to the booth he had claimed, and keyed in the code. The lid popped open. Before the oncologist's fingers could reach in, though, he was stopped by a shadow cast over the cheap wood. His lips parted — and then the other's voice slammed into his senses. So calm, so normal, as if Lawrence hadn't been actively hiding from Matthew Murdock for weeks.

Slowly, Lawrence looked up, blues narrowed. His mouth hovered open, and the hand halfway into his case fell limply against the locking mechanism. Smooth fingertips landed on the edge of the papers he would have pulled out initially. They were Lawrence's notes : all of the pages copied out of medical journals ; line after line of handwritten research ; informational flyers provided by his new specialists ; and so on. He had been pouring over them often in this particular Starbucks, locked away from the world for hours after his appointments at Angel of Mercy were through. On the days that he needed to conduct a surgery, his briefcase lived in the locked drawer of his office desk. Alison was convinced he didn't carry one anymore.

"Hello," Lawrence said first. He cleared his throat. Too loud, and the sound of it ( like a gunshot suddenly through the tense silence ) made him grimace. "This is . . . unexpected."

[ unexpected. ] What a simple, safe word to cover the swell of emotion that Lawrence felt. He was angry, mostly — this was a clear violation of the rules of their long - standing game — but also comforted by the sight of Matt. Lawrence had missed him, even if it would be difficult for him to say at the moment. The oncologist swallowed back his shock. To leave Matt standing there would just draw attention to the pair of them.

"Sit," Lawrence issued. "All of them are free." His eyes moved back to his briefcase. "The other bench is one step ahead of you and to the left."

Thin fingers extracted a pill dispenser, opened the capsule that marked the present day, and dumped the contents into his opposing palm. Lawrence took the vitamin B6, prenatal supplement, and two anti - nausea aids with a drink of his beverage. He then returned the dispenser and retrieved a small yellow bag of individually wrapped items that resembled cough drops. Another something to help with his miserably sensitive stomach. Lawrence popped one into his mouth and pushed it into the soft flesh of his cheek.

Sharp, potent ginger mixed with the overly - sweet chocolate syrup and whipped cream of the Frappuccino. Not long ago, this combination would have made Lawrence sick for days — now, ironically, it was all that kept what little food he managed during the day to stay down.

Lawrence sighed softly, a gesture that could easily be dismissed for a noise of relief after a long day, and leaned back. The cool bottom of his drink was pressed briefly to his trousers. A ring of moisture appeared on the dark blue, expensive material of his suit. "You must have had a client in the area," Lawrence finally said. "This store is rather off your beaten path, isn't it ?? " His smile was thin, barely stretched across his teeth.

[bloodypuzzle]

「 @macrodatum sent from here 」 :

[ absentminded ] sender casually takes receiver's hand in public, laces their fingers, and doesn't let go -- buying baby things, romcom AU :]

Lawrence stopped in front of the row of cribs, each a pre - constructed example of what was in the nearby aisle of boxes. The store had done its best decorating them with stuffed toys and colorful bedding. A chuckle left the oncologist as he approached a sturdy - looking piece made of dark wood ; it had been dressed by an associate in star - themed padding — rightfully, a cartoonish green alien plush sat inside.

The oncologist pulled out the innocent - looking fellow. One hand drifted back to belly ( which a thick sweater like the one he wore used to hide ), rubbing gentle circles into it through the black fabric. Diana nudged against the familiar motions. "Hello, little invader," Lawrence murmured.

He put the alien back as Mark approached, triumphantly carrying two cups from the chain in the front of the store. Lawrence tried desperately to ignore the smell of Mark's coffee. Only fruity beverages with a splash of coconut milk were appropriate for him, at least for a few months more. "Thank you," Lawrence said, accepting his from Mark. His eyes drifted to the crib again, to the alien that was obviously askew, and narrowed thoughtfully. One swallow of his drink, then the bottom of the cup landed on the swell of his stomach, propped up there while Lawrence's nails tapped on the plastic.

Lawrence felt Mark's fingers capture his unoccupied hand. He squeezed them instinctively ; though he was too proud to admit to it verbally, Lawrence was ( as always ) grateful for the company. The warmth of Mark's hand in his own was comforting, and Lawrence opted to leave their digits entwined as long as Mark desired it.

"She seems to like it. The height looks fine. We could practice with the . . . " Lawrence cleared his throat. " — other extraterrestrial threat present." He glanced over at Mark and raised a brow. "Are you certain that you can build this ?? " Lawrence's ' this ' really referenced any of the large furniture for the nursery. Usually, the oncologist paid to have it done for him — but he would not take the glory from Mark if he desired it.

[asilidae]

Study of an autopsy

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE 5 LOVE LANGUAGES *  adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of action prompts

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

i'm very grateful for you.

you're very important to me.

you make me want to be a better person.

you're doing a good job, you know.

i can tell you're trying your hardest.

you constantly impress me.

what's going on? tell me everything.

i'm here to listen to you.

i love you so much.

you know you matter to me, right?

i don't know what i'd do without you.

you were right about everything.

if it matters to you, it matters to me.

i believe in you.

PHYSICAL TOUCH

[ caress ] sender soothes a nervous receiver by stroking their hands up and down receiver's arms

[ absentminded ] sender casually takes receiver's hand in public, laces their fingers, and doesn't let go

[ shoulder ] sender listens to receiver speak and sets a hand on their shoulder while doing so, offering comfort

[ behind ] sender comes up to receiver from behind and wraps their arms around them, hugging them close

[ smack ] sender gives receiver's butt an affectionate smack as they walk past them

[ dinner ] at dinner, sender reaches across the table and takes receiver's hand

[ check ] sender reaches out to touch receiver, expressing concern for them

[ cuddle ] sender and receiver snuggle

RECEIVING GIFTS

i saw this yesterday, and i had to get it for you.

this reminded me of you.

you said you didn't have one... so i figured i'd get it for you.

i hope you like it. i picked it out just for you.

i loved making this for you.

i know you had a rough week, so i hope this makes you feel better.

it's all for you!

[ birthday ] sender brings receiver a present on their birthday

[ just because ] sender surprises receiver with a gift

[ grateful ] sender gets a present from receiver and expresses their utmost gratitude

[ flowers ] sender brings receiver a bouquet of their favorite flowers

[ candy ] sender gifts receiver with their favorite candy

QUALITY TIME

i'm not going anywhere. i want to stay here with you.

why don't we spend some time together?

i'd rather be alone with you.

let's plan a vacation.

feel like taking a walk? the weather's nice.

i just want to be with you.

this weekend is all about us.

can we plan for some alone time?

[ walk ] sender and receiver go for a comfortable evening stroll

[ bake ] sender and receiver bake something together

[ decorate ] sender and receiver attend a painting class together

[ relax ] sender and receiver relax on the beach

[ craft ] sender helps receiver with a project they've been working on

ACTS OF SERVICE

let me get that for you.

i'll take care of it! i've got it!

you go and sit down. i've got this covered.

i've planned our entire trip. you don't have to lift a finger.

everything's all taken care of!

sit back down! i'll clean up!

i know it was stressing you out. that's why i took care of it.

i'll help you with that.

i watered your plants.

[ breakfast ] sender brings receiver breakfast in bed

[ blanket ] sender notices receiver is cold, so they bring them a blanket and drape it over their shoulders

[ jacket ] sender offers receiver their coat

[ soup ] knowing receiver is sick, sender brings them a bowl of hot soup

[ coffee ] sender brings receiver their favorite coffee order

[bloodypuzzle]

「 @valkguard sent from unprompted 」 :

“ is it strange for you? being here, i mean. ” of course, angela is referring to lawrence once again being on an overwatch base. the organization is reformed with new faces, but some of the old guard still lingers as well. those who knew lawrence gordon before everything happened ; those who knew him as a doctor, a member of the team, rather than simply jigsaw. right now, there’s an agreement in place : the others let him stay, regardless of his crimes, due to what he means to angela. still, she can’t help wondering how all of this is for him. her hand reaches out, fingers brushing at the strands of hair on lawrence’s forehead : a habit she had even long before they ever became this. “ … you do understand that if you ever want to leave, i will not stop you, correct? ” angela likes having him here — hell, she wants lawrence here — but if it all ever gets too complicated for him, she won’t argue.

Lawrence's eyes flicked up as Angela neared. He closed his book immediately, set it to the side, and gave her his full attention. The infamous figure often read in a chair on the other side of her office while she worked — it passed the time, certainly, but it also served as a form of protection. If one of his former teammates walked in, he could not be accused of looking over Angela's shoulder or attempting to learn sensitive information. There was a game being played here ; Lawrence had orchestrated enough of these torturous gauntlets to recognize when an inferior one was being fashioned against him. While he wasn't terribly fond of such silent rules [ and infernal politics ], he remained a willing participant.

He accepted the brush of her fingers through his bangs with a smile and appreciative murmur. When she was finished, he reached out for her : one arm wrapped around her waist while the other grasped her outermost thigh. Lawrence guided Angela into his lap carefully, mindful of her present condition.

"I would never lie to you," he said first, palm sitting on her leg. His words were a little too smooth for someone who had brazenly hid his true nature from her before, but they were laced with such deep affection that it was obvious he hoped Angela would forgive that detail. " — it is strange, as you said, to sit at my enemy's table and sup with them." The pig's head, situated neatly on top of his sweater, seemed to take on a momentary but sinister spark of life.

"However, it would take nothing short of my death to pull me away now." Lawrence chuckled lowly, fingers sliding up Angela's body until they reached her middle. He applied gentle pressure there, and the curve of his mouth broadened.

[ Hello, Joy. ]

"It is my duty to be here, wherever that may be — for both of my girls," Lawrence said, teeth flashing as his lips peeled back into a gesture much like a grin. " . . . and my pleasure."

[il-mostrc]

Touch held significant importance for Lawrence, a fact that Hannibal discerned early in their relationship. In their previous lives as mere schoolmates, devoid of what they held now, Hannibal had never observed such intimate gestures. However, everything transformed once the unspoken boundary was crossed, and he embraced the deep longing that had welled up within Hannibal since their initial meeting within the stark white walls of academia. Even here, he felt as his hand sprawled across his collared shirt, he felt the soft pats that were uniquely characteristic of Lawrence. The tender brush at the corner of his lips was an unmistakably intimate gesture, something that bore the unmistakable signature of Lawrence alone.

Hannibal gave a soft laugh at the thought of Lawrence pulling out his phone to take pictures of the meals. Typically, such gatherings were constrained by a strict budget, which certainly did not extend to elaborate catering. He was not at all taken aback by Lawrence's enthusiasm as he burst through the door, clearly not prioritizing the unpacking of his car. No doubt, he would uncover an assortment of dubious junk food lurking in the cabin compartment—a predictable treasure trove. Hannibal resigned himself to delivering a mild scolding, knowing well that his attempts to steer Lawrence away from such nutritionally void options were often in vain, for he was acutely aware of the grip these vices had over him.

Particularly, his culprits were the ubiquitous Starbucks cups.

"Am I to hold my tongue with what I might find?" As they moved through the kitchen, Hannibal's hand gently slipped down to grasp Lawrence’s elbow, guiding him towards the counter for a moment of respite. "Your friend Jeff," he teased lightly, positioning himself behind the culinary workspace to continue his preparations. "He may have been rough around the edges, but he's unmistakably smooth now."

He set about placing the pâté into small bowls—now preparing two servings instead of one. To accompany the pâté, he filled another bowl with fresh arugula and frisée greens, their peppery notes providing a perfect counterbalance to the dish's rich essence. He sliced thin radishes, their crisp texture promising a delightful crunch, and then artfully drizzled a tangy vinaigrette composed of nutty hazelnut oil and a splash of aged red wine vinegar. A sprinkle of toasted walnuts was added, enhancing both texture and flavor.

Following this, he carefully sliced a crusty baguette to accompany the meal, and for a touch of sweetness, he prepared a fig compote. Finishing the presentation, he adorned the dish with a garnish of pickled shallots, their vibrant acidity designed to cut through the richness of the pâté, offering a refreshing difference.

[bloodypuzzle]

Lawrence opted not to comment regarding what Hannibal might find in the E - Class. He had already planned to get rid of that later, discreetly, when he fetched his luggage. The oncologist leaned into his husband as they walked. It was easy to adjust his gait to such a familiar stance ; the sound of the cane, his prosthetic, and the soft noise of his sock all fell neatly into their usual rhythm for this sort of attachment.

Murmured thanks were given at the counter. Lawrence set aside his cane and pulled himself into the nearest chair. He sighed, sniffed, and leaned back in his seat to watch Hannibal work. Those pale hands folded atop his midsection — a Dr. Gordon - specific symbol of utter contentment. The smile on his lips was not full in shape but bore a sense of peace. Lawrence was truly just happy to be home and with Hannibal again.

At the mention of Jeff, his gaze sharpened, and a brow raised. "Mr. Ridenour," he said. Loudly, clearly, and with the same cadence that he recorded the infamous Jigsaw Killer tapes. Of course, each was later layered with the remnants of John's voice to make every game as correct as possible. Lawrence couldn't help but laugh, dark and low. "I never did you tell you his story, darling, did I ?? "

Lawrence cleared his throat. "He was a player that John selected a very long time ago — perhaps before even I was planned for. The drill chair that I have in my shop was originally designed for him, but there was unfortunate incident. Detective Tapp — the cop who stalked me for months — incidentally released him from the chair storming a front that John had made. As a result, John was not able to finish the game."

Another laugh ( clearly, Lawrence was amused with himself ). "I asked my dogs to fetch Jeff for me a few weeks ago. He lost a proper round of the game in the chair, which is how he came to be here." Lawrence waved a hand. "You know that much, however ; if I remember correctly, you watched it with me."

The oncologist's stomach growled once more. Lawrence's smile deepened and grew apologetic. "This looks and smells incredible, Hannibal. Are we eating here or at the table ?? Regardless, I will get the wine. — your preference, of course. Whatever you believe would pair best."

[bloodypuzzle]

「 @il-mostrc sent from unprompted 」 :

Lawrence's recent victims all were cast down the same way: into his basement and sprawled on the cold steel of the workstation. Here, he froze the bodies and sliced them using butcher's tools. This time however, his time would be spent on creating beauty out of death. A Valentine's Gift to his beloved. Opening the chest cavity, he superimposed four arms to hold back the flesh around it (sewn in the back), showcasing the ribcage and exposing the heart that had long since ceased beating inside. Sprouting from the rungs of the ribcage, with the absence of lungs underneath, were flowers of all kinds. Vibrant in color, though peppered among the roses of red, were gloriosa lilies, one of his favorites out of all the species of lilies out there. The torso was removed, along with the head. The true vocal point was the chest, bursting with the life of a bouquet of flowers. The Chesapeake Ripper had purportedly struck once more, or at least that was the narrative being fervently broadcasted by the evening news. On that particular night, Hannibal found himself drawn to the television, a rather unusual occurrence. His disinterest in this form of entertainment was well-known; he typically regarded television as a distraction devoid of intellectual merit. Nonetheless, the headline captured his attention, eliciting a knowing nod towards the screen as a subtle smile danced across his lips. It was a sinister Valentine, elegantly wrapped in a manner only Hannibal could conceive. Crafting such a macabre tableau would necessitate a return to the FBI; the prospect of doing so was a sacrifice he deemed worthwhile for the sake of Lawrence, even if it took time away from being home at a decent hour. The act would serve as a tribute to their connection, an homage to their love—the victims Lawrence granted him renewed into a gift.

Lawrence sat at the table, a grim specter in black and red. His robes spilled over his chair, brushing the concrete floor. Above, the industrial lights flickered. Their ill - colored glow lent a sterile feel to the subterranean chamber that Lawrence called his workshop — or, when he felt the need to tease, his lair. Around him were the parts he required to build his latest macabre device. This one was for a player that had previously escaped — but not by his own merit. Being rescued by the police was, in Lawrence's mind, not fulfilment of a game. He could only tolerate Jeff Ridenhour living free for so long, particularly when the man's early release was paid with John's blood.

Lawrence's laptop was open on another table, streaming the evening news. There was a wealth of potential in every broadcast, and he never missed a showing unless he was in surgery.

At the mention of the Chesapeake Ripper, Lawrence abruptly lifted his head. His thoughts spun : had Hannibal talked about turning out another piece ?? Yes, his husband possessed his secrets [ for their respective personas, they both held some tight even still ], but they usually conferred on these sorts of spectacles. A fantastic artwork released for public consumption ; a player hanging from a bridge with a puzzle piece carved out of their flesh ; a game room door unsealed and left ajar for an unsuspecting civilian to find. These were all instances in which Lawrence and Hannibal made sure to alert each other.

Lawrence grasped the head of his cane, hauled himself up, and limped closer. He hunched over the computer, pale skin washed out by the brilliant display. Gloved fingertips paused the broadcast and then touched the screen to zoom in. Slowly, his lips peeled back, exposing the white of his teeth and pink - red of his gums.

"Beautiful, darling," he murmured, finger absently stroking the glimpse of the still heart within the transformed chest.

As always, Lawrence was in awe. His was a very practical mind — good for science, good for this heavy - handed and mechanical method of dispatch — which would never understand how Hannibal saw such pieces in the corpses that Lawrence delivered to him. There was nothing like them. So elegant, so refined, so striking. The great masters of history couldn't compare ( no matter how often Hannibal attempted to introduce the oncologist to them ).

A wave of such strong emotion crashed over Lawrence that he was forced to close his eyes and inhale deeply. His mouth curved into a smile, and he sighed adoringly. " . . . just when I think I could not love you more, Hannibal," Lawrence murmured. "I will be home soon."

The image of his beloved's Valentine filled Lawrence with renewed vigor. He tapped the keys, allowing the broadcast to continue its coverage of his gift [ and their fearful speculation only added to his appreciation of it ]. Lawrence settled back at his place, blue eyes strangely soft. Before he continued, he sent out a series of short messages.

[ TEXT : HUSBAND ] : exquisite. [ TEXT : HUSBAND ] : dare I say, your most beautiful. [ TEXT : HUSBAND ] : yet, of course.

[swamplamp]

Adam: *speaks* Lawrence: 🙄🤦‍♂️

SAW (2004) dir. James Wan

[il-mostrc]

In the realm of groundbreaking advancements, it was customary for professionals to engage in conferences that showcased the latest innovations. While Hannibal occasionally attended these gatherings pertinent to his field, it was Lawrence (@bloodypuzzle) who participated in significantly more events. Hannibal had not anticipated Lawrence's return for at least another two days, leaving him to find comfort in the solitude of his culinary endeavors.

As he sliced through the liver pate (one of Lawrence's victims), he heard the door rattle and, in response, ventured towards the threshold with a knife in hand. When you're an apex predator with a long list of those you slew on the docket, there is a certain quality of being prepared for anything to adapt to.

However, an unexpected familiarity wafted through the air—the distinct scent of Lawrence's cologne, a luxurious fragrance uniquely sourced from Guerlain, an esteemed perfume boutique in Paris on one of their trips. Hannibal picked out the scents himself and gave it as a gift in their hotel room one evening. Upon inhaling the aromatic notes, Hannibal relaxed his shoulders, releasing them from their previous tension. He carefully set the knife down upon the polished countertop, his apron remaining immaculate despite the culinary commotion that had enveloped the kitchen.

“Lawrence, I wasn't—” Hannibal began to explain, momentarily taken aback by his sudden appearance. Yet, before he could complete his sentence, Lawrence enveloped him in a warm embrace. The unexpected nature of the gesture caught Hannibal off guard; his eyebrows arched in surprise as Lawrence firmly grasped the back of his neck while encircling his waist with an equally steadfast hold. Lawrence’s presence was always intense and assertive in-between these trips. Their lips met in a fervent kiss, imbued with an unmistakable sense of yearning. With each moment they parted, the desire only intensified, drawing them closer.

As they lingered mere centimeters apart, Hannibal felt the warmth of Lawrence's words murmuring against him. “I missed you too,” he replied, leaning in to rest his forehead gently against Lawrence's. The atmosphere shifted as the prepared dinner would now serve as seating for two. Hannibal felt a sense of relief; the lonely ambience of his home was dispelled with Lawrence by his side.

"Hungry?" A smile spread, a squeezing of his bicep. He was always eager to share what Lawrence stocked his fridge with.

Lawrence smiled as he stepped into their house. He removed his shoes carefully, hung up his coat, and sighed with contentment. It didn't matter that his bags were still in the E - Class, which had yet to make it into the garage. Something more important was on his mind : finding his husband. The oncologist brightened considerably at the sight of Hannibal. Suddenly, the long trip in the car to get home from last week's conference no longer bothered him. Lawrence immediately grasped Hannibal by the side of the neck and kissed him greedily. He needed him — like a man wandering parched through the desert who had found an oasis. Lawrence's red sweater pressed to Hannibal's front as the younger of the pair pulled his lover closer by his waist. "I missed you," Lawrence murmured when they finally parted, lips curving into a smile. " — shit, Hannibal. I missed you."

[bloodypuzzle]

Lawrence sighed at Hannibal's reply. [ I missed you, too, ] thrummed pleasingly in the oncologist's tired brain, wrapping around it like a security blanket. The hand on Hannibal's neck fell, retrieving his cane from the one wrapped behind the older man. Lawrence redistributed his weight, removing the portion of it he had placed against his husband, and leaned into his aid comfortably. Those fingers still on Hannibal's back slid up to his breast, where they splayed out over Hannibal's heart. Lawrence's black wedding band gleamed in the light of the kitchen.

"Starved," was all he could manage at first. The oncologist pressed a far more innocent kiss to the corner of Hannibal's mouth, to the place where that slanted smile he so adored often began. — pat, pat. Lawrence applied the all - too familiar gesture by his palm before clearing his throat.

"I took pictures of what they served for dinners," Lawrence continued, voice low between them. "I thought you might find it amusing." He chuckled, head slowly moving away from Hannibal's. Nevertheless, he remained physically fixed to him.

"I have to unpack the car yet," the oncologist confessed, blues meeting Hannibal's captivating brown color. Lawrence smiled, lips peeling away from his teeth. " — but I wanted to say hello first." Beneath his glasses, his gaze flicked over to the preparation being made in the kitchen. The smell of Hannibal's cooking made his stomach grumble softly. He hadn't stopped for anything more than chips out of rest stop vending machines along the way. Seeing Hannibal trumped everything.

Lawrence raised a brow. "Who are we having tonight, darling ?? "

[il-mostrc]

In these poignant moments, Hannibal found solace, etching them into the recesses of his mind when the world around him became overwhelming. It was a sanctuary, a mental crawlspace he could retreat to, enveloped by the warm, swirling steam rising from cups of tea and illuminated by the soft, inviting glow of Lawrence's boyish smile—a smile that lingered charmingly at the corner of his mouth. As he set his cup down, his gaze fixated on the deep, captivating blues in Lawrence's eyes, which he often found himself lost in, akin to a ship adrift on the vast sea.

“I fear I have subjected you to an excess of museums,” Hannibal remarked with a gentle smile, his fingers wrapping possessively around Lawrence’s forearm. “It has been far too long since I last stood within the hallowed walls of a cathedral. My once fervent interest in the collapse of churches has waned.” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling to where his fingers settled in the soft folds of Lawrence's shirt sleeve, gently exploring their way upward.

“Basílica de la Sagrada Família…” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, reverence blooming in his tone. “…Duomo di Milano…” His fingertips traveled further, reaching the strong contours of Lawrence’s bicep. “…La Cathédrale Saint-Pierre…” His gaze lifted from the fabric to Lawrence’s face once more. “…Sainte-Cécile Cathedral of Albi…” At this moment, his eyes drifted from Lawrence's expressive gaze to the curve of his lips, where the tea lingered, glistening softly against the warm hue of his skin.

While the concept of 'total retirement' remained a distant aspiration, Hannibal felt a profound sense of ease with Lawrence's decision to endeavor in a different path, setting aside the scalpel. He himself had embraced this transition years prior, having discovered a quiet peace and contentment in his choice. The realm of private practice suited him well; he was granted the freedom to dictate his own schedule and selectively curate the individuals who entered his life.

[bloodypuzzle]

Lawrence continued to sip at his tea while Hannibal spoke. Each glance and utterance, however, seemed the soften the younger man — in the way that only Hannibal could. The frown lines around his mouth and the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes ( more born from tension than age ) dissipated with how totally he relaxed. Even the memory of the ugly mark left on Hannibal from minutes ago did not appear to bother him as much [ though it lurked, like a festering wound, in the back of his mind ].

The oncologist set down his cup fully and used his free hand to capture Hannibal's wandering fingers. Murmuring appreciatively, he ran his thumb across his husband's knuckles, raised his captured prey to his lips, and kissed Hannibal's skin sweetly. Lawrence's blues remained fixed to his lover's handsome face. He lowered their joined hands back to the island and squeezed. Lawrence's thumb nail traced the little veins beneath Hannibal's flesh absently.

"An excess of museums ?? " Lawrence teased, stare peering at Hannibal beneath his glasses. It lingered on the cut across his lip. " — I did not think you believed there could be such a thing, darling." A light laugh.

"I must say : you are making retirement sound more and more appealing," the oncologist continued after a moment of quiet consideration. "A guided tour of such places . . . an even richer experience given your excitement, no doubt." Lawrence frowned thoughtfully, brows coming together. "It would not be difficult to write while we travel — at least, enough to keep my credentials current should I consider teaching later." Wisps of blond and silver drifted back over his brow.

"Hm . . . you could almost argue we would be taking a second honeymoon," Lawrence said with a lower volume. He applied light pressure to Hannibal's hand again. The oncologist wasn't sure why that almost too - saccharine sentiment needed to leave his mouth — or why it caused a fluttering in stomach, similar to the sensation he received every morning that he woke up holding the man beside him. "Humor me, Hannibal — if I do retire, how soon would you like us to leave ?? "

[bloodypuzzle]

「 PRIVATE STARTER FOR VAMPATRIARCH 」

Lawrence limped closer to the other man, dark overcoat and scarf folded over his arm. His identification badges bumped into his chest as he walked, gently hitting the silky fabric of his all - black suit and shirt.

"You must be the colleague that the hospital is buzzing about," Lawrence said, as charming but blunt as ever. He smiled, raised a brow, and extended his hand. The motion required him to lean into his cane to steady himself and, for a moment, his disability become apparent. " — Dr. Lawrence Gordon, Head of Medical Oncology. I was just about to order lunch up to my office ; consider this an invitation to join me, if you would like. It may shield you from the nurses for a while. I hear they're quite fond of giving new staff a hard time." Lawrence laughed, teeth flashing in the artificial lighting.

[il-mostrc]

Hannibal caught the disturbance before the cane even hit the floor to cement it. The dish was abandoned in the sink as he rounded the kitchen and found his way to Lawrence's side swiftly. "Lawrence," Hannibal started with a firm but gentle tone, "… you've overexerted yourself this evening."

Despite his own sustained injuries—an unfortunate aftermath of recent events—Hannibal recognized that Lawrence would require a more extended period for recovery. He reached for Lawrence's hand, his fingers intertwining with his partner's, and offered a gentle squeeze.

"I can manage the cleanup tomorrow. Allow me to draw you a bath. I shall wash your hair," Hannibal suggested, his voice laced with a soothing cadence. In this moment, his role was to alleviate the burdens weighing on Lawrence's mind and body, especially after the distressing encounter they had endured with their guests at the dinner table. Although the individuals invited had remained blissfully unaware of the internal strife Lawrence bore, Hannibal was acutely attuned to the subtle cracks that marred his companion's façade.

As he crouched beside Lawrence, Hannibal's other hand gracefully moved to sift through the silky blond strands of his hair, his searching gaze locking onto Lawrence's striking blue eyes. The events of the day unfolded in his mind like a film reel, how aggravated Lawrence was with the trip to the store. How he treated with a mixture of annoyance and frustration towards Lawrence's actions.

Guilt was starting to formulate. Hannibal didn't regret often, but when he did, he thought of formulas to reverse time in some capacity. This would have been one of those situations. Especially when Lawrence showcased vulnerability, which Hannibal felt he needed to remedy.

[bloodypuzzle]

Lawrence's hands moved when Hannibal captured one. He looked over after a moment, swallowing past a lump of something ( festering anger ?? frustration ?? pure, strange emotion ?? ) in his throat. Those blues fell behind his glasses, indicating that the oncologist was soothed by Hannibal's gestures.

Touch — Lawrence's thumb nail scraped across his husband's fingers. Suddenly, he turned his torso toward Hannibal and leaned in. Lawrence's lips pressed to his husband's brow, and his free hand curled around the back of Hannibal's neck. They shook still, in spite of his mental effort to stop them ; Lawrence felt them fluttering against the edge of Hannibal's hair. [ shit. ]

Here Lawrence was, slowing him down again. Lawrence closed his eyes, unaware of how tense the thought made his body.

"Alright," he said softly. " — stay with me, Hannibal. It makes me sick in a way that I cannot explain to see you walk away. I do not . . . " The last remark went unfinished, stopped by Lawrence's pride. All it permitted was an even softer "please" that was spoken against Hannibal's skin. Another kiss, another breath, another worry that the worst would happen if Hannibal vanished from his line of sight in their home. Lawrence wanted nothing more than to slice out of his crawling skin and retreat to the darkest corner of the room. Surely, an existence as little more than a pile of gore, aching with its love for the man in front of him, would feel less confining and itch less than his present body.

"A bath," Lawrence murmured, "and then I will clean your brand."