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bryan fuller saying hannibal lecter is very much alive and hungry in 2024... well where is he? can we like- see him again pls? 👉🏻👈🏻

Listen listen listen

I have an idea

Hasbin hotel and scp

Just listen, imagine that some scp's they were killed and went to hell, which they are very unhappy about, especially 049 and 035, and these two will look for ways to get to heaven, stumble upon the Hasbin hotel, and everything will spin there

I've even come up with designs for these two (but I won't show you yet, maybe a little later)

Day 31 - Landmark

BACKSTAGE!!!

And now Mare has their colors!

She's so pretty 🥰

I found the answer to one question in A&Q SCP-049 and Snezka

ㅤ ㅤ "Oh, look at the sunset!"

To feel guilt, To be blamed

...

It's knuckles birthday! (that's what google told me)

Happy birthday for this silly goober!

Hannibal woke up a lot earlier than Will who was still sleeping soundly unbothered by the howling of the wind. Even though it was not the first time he was spending the night at Will's, the sounds of nature managed to frequently wake him up.

He left the bedroom quietly and headed towards the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

The sun was not yet up. The birds were quiet too.

He thought of making some breakfast later, to surprise Will when he would be up. It amazed him how happy this man would get in front of a plate of pancakes and bacon.

He opened the door and stepped onto the porch, followed by Will's dogs who were excited to go out. Holding his mug of coffee, Hannibal took a walk around the house and stopped in front of the forest.

He was not sure what he was looking for, but for once the whole nature fell quiet around him, as if his presence was noticed and slowly absorbed into the winter tableau.

He brought the mug to his lips and closed his eyes. He hummed to himself, enjoying the silence. Then something changed into the air.

The next second he returned inside and grabbed Will's shotgun. Still holding his hot mug of coffee he went again to his previous spot but this time he advanced into the woods.

It was a cold morning and he was not wearing adequate clothes for a walk in the forest in the middle of February. Winston followed him loyally. Even the dog was considering him a "city boy", like Will would often call him.

It went quick. A twig snapped. Hannibal grabbed the shotgun. Gestured to Winston to be quiet. Breathed in. Eyed the prey. Made a decision. And shot.

The noise woke Will up in an instant. The panic grew when he couldn't find Hannibal next to him. He rushed into the living room, looking for his shotgun.

It was not where it was supposed to be.

He grabbed his gun instead and rushed out into the snow, following the direction of the noise. His dogs greeted him and followed. Just as he was about to venture into the woods, he froze.

Hannibal, still holding a mug in his left hand, and dragging a deer with the other, was slowly making his way through the snow. Will's shotgun was hanging loosly on his back. A red trail in the snow marked his path.

Will was trying to find the proper words to describe his reaction which was anywhere between amusement, surprise and annoyance.

"Are you going to keep watching or are you giving me a hand?"

"I swear to God, you are the only person in the world who would go hunting while drinking your coffee. And in your underwear."

"It's yours in fact."

Will looked down at his boxers which were in fact Hannibal's. He walked towards him and helped with the deer.

"How many times did you shoot?" Will asked noticing two wounds.

"Once." Hannibal replied. "Someone else must have hurt her before. She was struggling. I decided that putting her down would ease her suffering."

The Chesapeake Ripper didn't want the deer to suffer a slow and painful death. On the other hand, Will could tell Hannibal was already planning all the ways they could cook the deer in.