Work Text:
The sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains in Will Graham’s cluttered home office, casting a golden glow over the mismatched furniture, stacks of dog-eared books, and the occasional dog bed strewn haphazardly on the floor. On his desk, a laptop perched precariously atop a precarious pile of forensic textbooks and half-empty coffee cups. The laptop’s tiny camera captured a grainy image of his furrowed brow and wire-rimmed glasses slightly askew.
It was Tuesday, and that meant Introduction to Criminal Psychology 201 on Zoom.
Will sighed as he clicked into the session, muttering to himself. The list of participants filled up rapidly. Little boxes of students blinked into view, most of them looking vaguely uninterested, some with muted microphones and blacked-out screens, and others clearly logged in while still in bed.
“Alright, everyone,” Will began, glancing nervously at his notes. “Today, we’re going to talk about the psychology of violence and the criminal mind. Uh, specifically, how trauma shapes behavior.”
He squinted at his screen. “Can everyone see my—wait, hang on. I’m trying to share my screen.”
The students waited in silence as Will’s face loomed too close to the camera. He clicked furiously, muttering under his breath. A box popped up on his screen: “You are now sharing your entire desktop”—but instead of crime scene photos, the students were treated to Will’s desktop wallpaper: a chaotic collage of his seven dogs sprawled across various pieces of furniture.
“Oh, uh, that’s not—hold on. I think I... Did that work?”
“No, Mr. Graham, we’re still seeing your desktop,” one brave student chimed in.
Will sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Alright. Give me a second.”
Just as he was about to resolve the issue, a cacophony of barking erupted from somewhere off-camera.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Will groaned, reaching for the mute button. “One moment.”
He disappeared from view, leaving the students to stare at his empty chair. Moments later, he reappeared, cradling a wriggling, oversized mutt in his arms.
“This is Winston,” he said, his voice muffled. “He decided to bark at a leaf. As usual.”
The chat exploded.
[Student 1]: omg cute dog!!
[Student 2]: THIS IS MY DESIGN
[Student 3]: lmaoooo same Winston, same
Will glanced at the chat, sighed again, and rubbed his temple. “Okay, moving on. Uh, where were we? Right. Trauma.”
He attempted to share the screen again, this time successfully pulling up a slideshow of grisly crime scene photos. The sudden transition from dog pictures to vivid depictions of violence was jarring.
“Here’s a case study we’ll be discussing. The victim’s—oh, for the love of—Buster! Drop it!”
Will bolted from his chair, yelling off-camera. The students sat in silence as the sound of a scuffle drifted through the speakers, followed by the unmistakable clatter of something being wrestled from a dog’s mouth.
When Will didn’t return immediately, another face appeared on the screen.
“Good evening, class,” said Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who had been lurking quietly in the Zoom call, a serene smile on his face.
The students collectively straightened up, alarmed yet intrigued.
“As Mr. Graham is, shall we say, indisposed,” Hannibal continued, “allow me to fill the void. I find the intersection of violence and identity utterly fascinating. Shall we delve deeper into the psyche of those who commit such atrocities?”
Hannibal’s voice was rich and hypnotic, like velvet soaked in blood. He began to speak with the calm authority of someone who had not only studied psychopaths but had been one for a very long time.
“Violence,” he mused, “is not merely an act, but an articulation of the self. It is a language, unique to its speaker. Consider, for example, the concept of cannibalism...”
The chat erupted again.
[Student 4]: wait did he just say cannibalism???
[Student 5]: is this on the midterm?
[Student 6]: this guy’s lowkey terrifying but like... I can’t stop listening
When Will finally reappeared, hair askew and holding a suspiciously damp sock, he froze. “Hannibal,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”
“Merely assisting, Will,” Hannibal replied smoothly. “Your students seemed quite eager to engage in a meaningful dialogue.”
Will sighed deeply, dropping the sock onto his desk. “Please, don’t ‘assist.’”
The students, meanwhile, were fully invested in the spectacle.
[Student 7]: can he take over the whole class? pls?
[Student 8]: this is better than Netflix
Will glanced at the chat, grimaced, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, let’s refocus. Back to the slides.”
For the remainder of the session, Will did his best to regain control, but the students were clearly more interested in Hannibal’s chilling insights than his own halting explanations.
When class ended, Will shut his laptop with a groan and turned to Hannibal, who was now sipping tea in his immaculately tailored suit.
“You just had to hijack my class, didn’t you?” Will muttered.
“I merely seized an opportunity to educate,” Hannibal replied with a faint smile. “Your students seemed quite receptive. Perhaps you should invite me to guest lecture more often.”
Will rolled his eyes, rubbing his temples as one of his dogs pawed at his leg. “They’re going to rate this class on RateMyProfessor, you know. And not for me.”
Hannibal tilted his head, his smile growing wider. “Then I shall take it as a compliment. Though I daresay you’ll find their reviews... illuminating.”
The next day, Will made the mistake of checking the reviews for his class.
“This class is wild. 10/10 for Winston and the other dogs. 4/10 for technical issues. 100/10 for the guest lecturer who talked about cannibalism. Would recommend.”
“Professor Graham is cool but chaotic. The guy who took over halfway through? Straight-up terrifying but also kind of a genius.”
“Idk if I learned anything but I was thoroughly entertained. More Hannibal pls.”
Their overall rating: 4.3/5 stars
Will groaned, closing the tab and burying his face in his hands. Hannibal, of course, found it all immensely amusing.
“Cheer up, Will,” he said, setting a plate of something suspiciously well-prepared on the table. “You’re still the second most compelling presence in your own class. That’s quite the achievement.”
Will didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he took a sip of coffee and muttering to no one in particular.