Monstrous appearances

Monstrous Appearances

A short fanfiction written by sphekso
Illustrations by me, +Elisabetta Palmeri 

Summary:Will approaches Hannibal and Alana in a new form... A werewolf. Hannibal is predictably calm, but Alana panics and wants to understand this new side of Will. Either way, they both attempt to tame him. Can either of them reach through?

Notes: Despite the presence of Werewolf!Will, this story isn't part of the canon Exoterism storyline. It's a sort of "what if"... what if Will had his first transformation much much later than how we see in the webcomic? And what if Will was even a little... different than usual? So, it's a completely different universe, but we hope that you all will enjoy it!

 ***

Alana shot back on her heels, crawling back to the wall as far as she could. “What… What are you?” she demanded.
The man—or thing—she asked couldn’t respond. He just growled and slowly approached her, his muscles rippling under his dark brown fur.
Hannibal stepped toward the monster. “Will,” he said. “Will Graham. I know who you are.”
The monster turned to him and snarled. It seemed… hurt?
“Calm yourself, Will. I understand you.”
The wolf-thing started to growl, then drew back in small cries.
“Hannibal? What is this thing?” Alana demanded.
“Hush,” Hannibal said. “Give him his own time to come around.”
The monster staggered back. It crowed a howl at no one in particular, throwing its head back to scream, then looked back to the two humans in its sight. It ignored Hannibal, but snarled at the sight of Alana.
“Please, Will, calm down,” Hannibal said from the sidelines.
“Will,” the monster groaned. It was barely a word, but Hannibal understood it. He’d been waiting for a word like that.
“Yes, Will,” he said. “Calm down. Calm yourself for us. You don’t want to hurt Alana, do you?”
With that, the monster shrank back. It looked back and forth between them, clearly unsure how to proceed.
“You… You’re Will, aren’t you?” Alana ventured.
The monster whined a little and pushed itself back against the far wall.
“Will Graham?” Alana asked. She stepped toward the monster.
“Alana!” Hannibal snapped. “Be careful!”
She shook her head. “He just doesn’t know who he is,” she said. “I’ll remind him…”
The monster roared as she approached him, but didn’t make any moves to flee. 

Its furry legs and arms remained braced against the wall.
 “Will?” Alana pressed. She moved still closer to the monster. “You’re Will?” She was close enough now to almost touch the creature.
It howled a genuine howl, like she’d touched it to its very core.
“Careful, Alana,” Hannibal urged. “It might be Will, but it’s still…”
“I don’t care,” Alana snapped. “Will! Will Graham! Are you in there?”
Against all odds, the monster relaxed and reached its head toward Alana.
She stifled her fear and reached out to pet the monster’s head.
It cooed appreciatively, and in the sensation of touch, it began to warp. Understandably, Alana staggered back, and reality seemed to shift around the monster she’d touched. She—and Hannibal—couldn’t describe what happened in human terms, but after the dark gust of wind, the creature before her became a man. And that man… She knew that man. It was…
“Will Graham,” she muttered.
“Where am I?” Will asked. He was naked and confused. Seeing Alana looking down at him, he rapidly covered his crotch with his hands.
“Will?” she ventured.
“Where… How did I get here?” Will asked.
“That’s not important,” Hannibal intoned. “What’s important is that you’re here with us now, and that you’re not going anywhere. Isn’t that right, dear Will? You’ll stay with us?”
Will was confused—and even scared, maybe terrified—but he knew he was safe with Hannibal, and especially with Alana. “Can someone… get me some clothes?” he asked. He was still childishly holding his hands over his crotch.
“Shit,” Alana muttered. “Of course. Hannibal, can you get him some pants?”
Hannibal chuckled. “I can. But I doubt you mind so much, do you, Alana?”
Alana scowled at him. “He’s in trouble. How can you ask that? He was just a… A thing. Find him some clothes, Hannibal. Forget your old rivalries.” She paused, searching Hannibal’s face. He seemed almost… Unsure? Which was unlike him, to say the least. “Hannibal,” she said. “You know I’m with you. I just want to see him taken care of. I’m yours.”
Hannibal smiled. “Very well, then,” he said. “I’ll take care of him. Will?”
Will shook his head hard. “What’s going on?”
“You were lost,” Hannibal said. “But I think we can help you be found. Would you like that?”
“Lost?” Will wondered. “Well… If Alana’s with you, then…”
“I’m with him,” Alana said.
“Yes,” Hannibal added. “She’s with me. So what do you say, dear Will? Will you let us take care of you?”
“How… Why… What am I?”
“It’s not important,” Hannibal said. “What’s important is that you’re in our care.”
“Your care…” Will trailed off. “Alana’s in your care, isn’t she? Then I’m on your side. I’m on Alana’s side.”
“Good,” Hannibal replied. “That means we can get started.”
“Started with what?” Will asked.
“Your training,” Hannibal said with a grin. “As soon as you change again.”
“Change?”
“Hannibal, isn’t this a little much?” Alana asked.
Hannibal scoffed. “He is what he is, Alana. The only thing we can do is guide him along his path.”
Alana sighed, but didn’t resist.
“So Will… The next time you change, I’ll be here.”
“There’ll be a next time?”
“Oh, yes,” Hannibal said. “A next time, and many times after that. So… Don’t you want to do it in an orderly manner?”
“I guess I do,” Will said. “But…”
“But?” Hannibal asked.
“Can you find me some clothes?”
Hannibal laughed. “Of course, But you’ll only tear through them later.”
Will didn’t seem to care. He still had both hands pressed to his crotch. He didn’t care about Hannibal’s eyes, but there was Alana. He cared very much about what Alana thought about him. Still, she’d seen him as a monster, so what could she care about seeing him as a naked human? He sighed and let go.
Alana wasn’t as sure as he was. She blushed and turned away. “Hannibal?” she asked.
“Yes, dearest?”
“Take care of him, alright?”
“Of course,” Hannibal said. “I wouldn’t dream of anything else.”
“Thanks.” She began to walk away, then paused and looked back to Will. “I liked him once. Maybe loved him. But that was before you.””
Hannibal smiled at her. “Oh, I’m aware. But that was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Before his incarceration, and before… This.”
“Whatever this is,” she muttered.
“He’s changed. It’s some kind of wonderful, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, turned, and walked away.
Hannibal didn’t say a word in her absence. The silence said everything that needed to be said.
For his own part, Will didn’t have a word to share.
He just wanted some clothes.

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Whiskey and a Three-Piece

A short fanfiction written by sphekso
Illustrations by me.

“What’ll you be having?” the bartender asked.
“Something strong,” the woman replied, slouched on her stool. “Anything strong.”

One look at her face, and Hannibal could tell she was in trouble. He tapped the counter and said, “Geoff? Put it on my tab.”
She looked over at him for a moment, then back to the bartender. “Whiskey?” she asked.
Geoff grunted and took out a highball glass. He filled it partway and slid it across the counter. “You having some troubles?”
“You could say that.”
Hannibal thought about moving over a stool to sit next to her, but decided against it. She probably wouldn’t take kindly to a man invading her personal space. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Alana,” she said. “Yours?”
“Hannibal.”
“That’s a funny name.” She didn’t look at him. She just sipped her whiskey.
“I could say the same about you. I don’t think I’ve ever met an Alana.” Hannibal tapped the bar again. “I’ll have what the lady is having.”
Geoff shrugged and poured Hannibal a drink. Just as he was finishing, Alana drained her whiskey in long gulps and said, “Leave the bottle.” He set the bottle on the counter with a soft clink. “Thanks.”
“Your troubles must be extreme,” Hannibal observed.

“How do you figure that?” she asked. She gave herself a refill.
“How couldn’t I? It’s two in the afternoon. You’re either an alcoholic or in dire straits, and you don’t strike me as the former.”
She raised the glass to her lips and took a swallow. “And you don’t strike me as the type to drink in an Irish pub. Not wearing that suit.”
Hannibal straightened his tie. “Never judge a book by its cover, Miss…?”
“Bloom, and I’m not a miss.”
“Mrs. Bloom, then. Tell me, what brings you here today? Perhaps I could offer some aid.”
She squinted at him as she took another drink. “What makes you think you can help?”
“I’m a psychiatrist,” he said. “It’s what I do.”
“Well then, Dr. Hannibal, go ahead and analyze me. But let me drink a while, first.” Silence, and more whiskey. Then: “My wife left me. What’s your advice?”
Geoff turned his back to them and busied himself washing glasses.
“My advice is it’s never a good plan to drink away your sorrows,” Hannibal said. Alana opened her mouth to protest, but he added, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to stop you.”
She nodded and dumped more whiskey into her glass. “I’m used to drinking away my sorrows,” she said. “Though it’s usually beer. No beer today, though.”
“What happened between you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Why do you care so much?” she asked.
“Forgive me. Sometimes my curiosity runs away with me.” He glanced at the clock. Close to two-thirty now.
She shook her head. “We fought. I left, and when I got back she was packing her bags. There’s not much else to say.”
“What did you fight about?”
She downed the rest of her drink. She was in deep, and fast. She’d be sloppy before long. “She cheated on me. With a man.”
“Does it bother you more that she cheated, or that it was with a man?”
“The man part doesn’t matter,” she said. “I don’t discriminate, either.”
“Is that so?” Hannibal asked. He took a chance and moved a stool closer. She didn’t object, so he pulled his glass to his new spot and settled in. “It’s a shame, really. I’d never cheat on a woman so beautiful.”
She wobbled back a little on her stool and gripped the counter to steady herself. “Are you hitting on me?”
“No,” he said. “Nothing so base.”
“Then what’s your game?”
“I don’t have a game,” he replied. “But you’re about to be very drunk, very soon. You should slow down on that whiskey.”
“Don’t tell me what I should do,” she said. She poured another two fingers and sipped.
“Drive here on your own?” Geoff asked, turning his attention back to them.
Alana blinked at him. “Yes,” she said. “Why?”
He stuck out his hand, palm-up. “Keys.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“You’re swaying, if you didn’t notice. Now, keys.”

Geoff was right: she was softly swinging back and forth on her seat. She made a little harrumph, then, defeated, fished around in her purse. She dropped her key ring in his hand. “Happy?”
He grunted again in response.
“Shall I call you a cab?” Hannibal asked.
She shook her head. “I need more,” she said, glassy-eyed. She tipped back her head as she took her next swallow, throwing off her center of balance and threatening to send her tumbling. Hannibal pressed his hand into the small of her back and eased her upright again. “You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered.
“I know,” he said. “So, where do you intend to go now? It’s the middle of the day, and you’re incredibly drunk. Were you planning to sleep it off on the pool table?”
“I don’t need a cab,” she said. “She didn’t take a cab. She took her car. I don’t want to take a cab, either.”
“You’ll have to,” Geoff said. “Unless you’re going home with him.” He jerked his head in Hannibal’s direction.
Hannibal favored her with a smile. “That’s always an option.”
“It is?” she asked. “How can I be sure you won’t…”
“Won’t what? Take advantage of you? I haven’t the slightest idea why you would think that of me. I’ve been nothing but helpful.”
Alana went for the bottle, but Geoff took it away before she could reach it. “You’ve had enough,” he said, and returned it to its place behind the counter.
“You’re rich, right?” she asked Hannibal. Her blinks were heavier now.
He patted her hand. “Quite.”
“Is your house big like mine? What’s it like?”
“It’s beautiful, much like you,” he replied. “I could show you, if you’d like.”
She tugged a lock of hair in front of her face and looked at it curiously. “Alright. Okay. You’re an attractive man. I’m an attractive woman. You have an attractive home. So why not?”
Hannibal reached for his wallet and placed a hundred dollar bill on the bar. “That should cover our drinks.”
“And then some,” Geoff said. “I’ll give you her keys.” He took them out of a drawer and tossed them to Hannibal, who deftly snatched them out of the air. “Hannibal? Take care of her. She looks like a nice lady. A little lost, is all.”
“You mustn’t worry so much,” Hannibal told him. “Come now, Mrs. Bloom.” He rose from his stool and guided her to a standing position. Her swaying worsened on two feet. “Can you walk?”
“I… I don’t think so,” she replied. “I think… I think I need more whiskey.”
“I have plenty at home. You’re sure you can’t walk?”
She took a few clumsy steps forward before tripping over her feet and reeling backwards. Hannibal grabbed her before she hit the floor. “Definitely not,” she said. She grinned a stupid-drunk grin. “You really are attract—“ She hiccupped. “—Attractive,” she finished.
“You’re not thinking clearly. Here, if you can’t walk…” He hefted her up on his back, and she wrapped herself around him and nuzzled her cheek into his neck.
“Real romantic,” Geoff said. “Now get outta here before you run off my patrons with that suit of yours.”
“Don’t I always?” Hannibal carried Alana to the door without even a hint of effort. Alana was a feather on his back as he exited the bar.
“God, it’s so bright out,” Alana groaned. In truth, it was overcast. “Where are we…” She paused, searching for words. “Going! Where are we going?”
“To my home. We discussed this.”
“Oh,” she said. After he’d gotten her into the car, she asked, “Are we going to sleep together?”
He sighed. “Not with you like this.”
“What if I want to later?”
“Am I to be your rebound?”
“If you want,” she said, and hiccupped again.
“When you’re sober, I can be anything you want me to be.” He kissed her forehead lightly. She stirred in her seat and raised her head to meet his lips with her own. He didn’t stop her. Once she was satisfied with the kiss, he pulled back and said, “Now, let’s go for a drive, shall we?”


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Closer - Hannibloom fanfiction

Closer
a Oneshot by Sphekso (@SamCuddleston on twitter)
 
Closer, he thought, head cocked, peering at her from across the table.
She leaned forward, cabernet in one hand, her other hand gripping the edge of the tablecloth.
Good girl.
“Hannibal?” she inquired, the three syllables sloppily strung together. It would be a wonder if she could still stand.
“You’re deep in your cups, Alana,” he replied.
She drew back into her chair. “Are you judging me?”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. “Would you like another?”
“Only if you stop looking at me like that.” She took one last sip, and the dregs of her wine disappeared down her throat.
Like I want to eat you?
“How do you think I’m looking at you?” he asked, tipping the bottle over her glass.
She blinked and shook her head in an attempt to steady her vision. “Like you want something.”
“I do want something,” he said, a mild but playful lilt to his voice.
“That something being…?”
He decided to ignore the question. “How was the meal?”
She took a generous sip of her fresh wine. “Fantastic, as ever.”
“A chef is always pleased to hear a happy review,” he said, but he didn’t have any designs on impressing her with the food. Not tonight.
Come now. Closer.
She leaned in toward him again. He could see sweat beginning to slick her brow.
There we are.
“Consider yourself reviewed, then,” she said. She tightened her grip on the tablecloth. “What’s going on here?”
“Going on? I’m not sure I follow.”
“With you. There’s something going on with you.” She looked him straight in the eyes, hers watery and doe-eyed, his steely and unreadable.
He swirled his own wine under his nose and took a sip. Then: “A mentor is merely seeing his mentee for the woman she is, rather than the girl she once was.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
“A mentor and mentee? Hannibal, that’s… you’re…” She blinked at him as the cogs slogged against each other in her mind. “You flatter me,” she said.
“Flattery is a funny thing,” he said. “It can mean many things. It can spring from half-truths and falsehoods, or it can be more… realistic.“
“There aren’t any half-truths at play here,” she said, slurring the ‘s’ in ‘truths’.
Sure of ourselves, aren’t we?
“No,” he said. The slightest hint of a smile curled itself across his lips. “There aren’t.”
She nursed her glass. “What does this ‘mentor’ think about the woman he sees?”
“He thinks she’s lovely.”
She set her wine on the table. “I… I think I’ve had enough for now. My thoughts are running away with me.”
“Perhaps you should continue,” he said. “I don’t begrudge anyone a little indulgence every now and then, and your thoughts intrigue me besides.”
“Maybe…” she bit her bottom lip.
“Come now, Alana. Finish your glass. There’s no sense in letting the wine go to waste.”
The alcohol resumed its travels to her belly.
That’s right. Drink up.
“And what does the mentee think of the mentor?” he asked.
She averted her gaze. “You know I’ve always had a high opinion of you.”
“Professionally?”
A beat passed before she answered. “And otherwise.”
Playing coy?
“Well,” he said, his smile flattening. “I think I’d like to hear exactly what that ‘otherwise’ entails.”
She released the tablecloth and held up one finger until she’d finished draining her glass. “Oh,” she began, and ran her now-free hand through her hair. “I’ve had thoughts. Thoughts about you…” she pointed at him, and then herself, “and me.” A giggle rose in her throat, but she managed to stifle it. She was a grown woman, after all.
“Together?”
She nodded once in response.
“Why didn’t you act on these thoughts?” he asked.
“You seemed unobtainable.”
“I’m not unobtainable. Not for you.”
She studied him. “What kind of game are you playing here, Hannibal?”
“I’m not playing any games,” he said, a little off-put by her scrutiny.
“Then… are you saying you want me?” she asked, refocusing her sight on him.
“That’s my intention.” He raised himself from his seat.
“What are you—“
Hush now.
He rounded the table to stand over her seat, and extended his hand. “Come,” he said.
She blinked at him again.
Dear God, is she drunk.
“Alana, dear, you don’t want to sit at this table forever, do you? Take my hand.”
She reached for him, and he helped her to her feet. They were close now, mere inches apart. “What do you want with me?” she asked.
“It’s more of a question of what I want to do to you than what I want to do with you.”
“Then what do you want to do to me?” She quivered a little.
He clicked his tongue. “Are you nervous?”
“Should I be?”
“I don’t think so, but I won’t deign to tell you how you should feel,” he said.
“Answer my question, then.”
He placed his hand at the small of her back, and she ceased her shivering. “If you’ll permit me, I’d like to kiss you.”
Her eyes widened, then fluttered shut. She nodded slowly.
He leaned down until his lips nearly touched hers.
Closer.
She closed the distance to engage him.
“Bed?” he asked when they parted.
“We shouldn’t…”
He kissed her again, and repeated, “Bed?”
She sighed, her breath hot against his cheek. “Bed.”
Good, good girl.



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