#alana bloom

[rocktheholygrail]

[filmsdkye]

the scene where alana is like “i feel like I’ve been poisoned” and will’s like “we’ve all been poisoned” is funny in hindsight because alana is talking about how she was being fed human meat and cartilage beer for 8 months and will is talking about how he’s kind of in love with hannibal

[muffinmoonn]

guess we're doing hannibal 4komas now

[garnishedcarnist]

Happy fall, freaks

[suspiciouscrispybacon]

🏳️‍🌈

[theyaoimonster]

Will's greed SICKENS ME

[sirenja-and-stag]

Hannibal Gag Reel [25/?]

[cece693]

DRUNKEN DISARRAY

Hannibal Lecter x Gender Neutral Reader

synopsis: You left the house due to a disagreement between you and Hannibal—just a few days to clear your head and not make things worse. However, when you return, you find Hannibal...well, drunk.

You hadn’t meant for the misunderstanding to escalate the way it did. A careless word, a sharp retort, and the silence that followed stretched too long. Hannibal’s brand of composure often made you feel like you were the only one burning, so this time you left. For space, for clarity.

Three days passed before you returned to the house. However, the usual curation of Hannibal's world was missing the second you stepped inside. The air was thick with an unfamiliar scent. Whiskey. A half-empty bottle glinted on the side table, something he normally would never leave out.

And then you saw him.

Hannibal, in disarray. His waistcoat gone, shirt untucked, hair slightly mussed. He turned at the sound of your footsteps, and the mask he always wore was fractured.

“(Y/N).” he breathed, voice slurred at the edges. He stumbled toward you, and before you could react, his arms were around you, iron-tight, his face pressed into the crook of your neck.

You froze.

Hannibal Lecter did not stumble. Hannibal Lecter did not reek of liquor. Hannibal Lecter did not cling.

“I thought—” his words broke, then tumbled over each other. “I thought you would not return. That you would leave me. And I—” He pulled back just enough for you to see his eyes, glassy with both alcohol and something heavier. “I cannot abide that.”

You searched his face, surprised at the rawness there. “Hannibal, you’re drunk.”

A broken chuckle left him, soft and bitter. “Yes. Terribly human of me, isn’t it?” His hand cupped your jaw, trembling more than you’d ever seen. “But you must understand, space from you is unbearable. You are my tether. Without you, I unspool.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm and sweet with alcohol. “Forgive my foolishness. Do not—do not vanish from me again. My heart is not immune, no matter how I pretend.”

The sight was jarring. This man, usually a fortress of refinement, now laid bare in messy affection. His arms wrapped around you again, desperate, as if afraid you’d slip away.

For once, it was Hannibal who needed you to steady him.