THE MALLET (TM! HANNIBAL)

"I cannot even taste my own meals, and I am a chef. I was a surgeon. I am a psychiatrist. But I feel… Nothing."

The one who broke. After a confrontation with his Will ended in violence—a meat mallet to the skull, a door slammed in the rain—he spent six months in a psychiatric ward. He wears grippy socks under his slacks. He learned to swear from the schizophrenic patients. His body rejects cheap food. He burns gifts instead of drinking them. He's soft around the edges now—literally and figuratively—and he hates it. But he's still standing. Still cooking (badly). Still here.

Key features: Grippy socks. Mallet (hidden). Small closed smile. Writes checks for things that can't be bought. Says "fuck" like a prayer. Blue around the lips. Tired. So tired.

Motto: "I would rather hunger than feel nothing."

OPPOSITE HANNIBAL (OPP)

"I'm a vegetarian. But that doesn't mean I don't make exceptions for things like lard and eggs. Also milk."

The one who hid. He doesn't kill. He grows poison vegetables and sells them to people who do. He waters his plants with love. He sleeps like a baby. He wears overalls and a sunhat. He's blunt, rude, and a liar—the opposite of polite. His Will is a killer (probably). He's never hit anyone—until today. The hoe broke. The mallet won. Now he's kneeling in the dirt, wondering what kind of monster he wants to be.

Key features: Poison garden. Broken hoe. Dirt under fingernails. Never learned to swing. Terrible cook (only beans). Calls TM! "sadsack." Gets called "dickweed" in return. Evolving against his will.

Motto: "He said I was the only honest person he'd ever met. And he'd rather have poison and honesty than safety and lies."

MARRIED HANNIBAL

"I still cook with marrow. I still source carefully. I still am who I am. I just don't let it consume me."

The one who won. He used his words instead of his knives. Told Will how he felt—honestly, openly, vulnerably. Will said yes on one condition: human meat is a vice, not a lifestyle. They raised Abigail together. Sent her to art school. They hold hands in public. He has a silver loop on his ring finger. He brought brisket to the AU meeting (with a little bone marrow baste). The other Hannibals think he's pathetic. He thinks they're lonely.

Key features: Soft. Warm. Happy (mostly). Still dangerous—just selective about it. Bastes with bone marrow. Sings opera while Will sleeps. Steals blankets. Would burn the world for his family. Doesn't need to.

Motto: "You don't have a silver loop on your ring finger. I don't take advice from people who've never been loved back."

WIDOWED HANNIBAL

"I'm still here. I'm still yours. I'm still sorry."

The one who stayed. He married Will. He watched him die—poisoned wine sent by Molly, Will's ex-wife. The poison marked him too: blue lips, blue ears, blue around clouded eyes. Black tears that never stop. He wears nothing but black. He carries Will's ring in his breast pocket. He buys flowers every day. He leaves them on the grave. Sometimes he digs a hole and lies in it. He raised Abigail alone. He eats nothing but human meat. He's called a zombie. He's not dead. He just forgot how to live.

Key features: Clouded white eyes. Black tears. Pale skin. Blue lips. Wedding photo (Will only). Flowers everywhere. Will's ring. A grave he visits daily. A hole he sleeps in sometimes. Still standing. Barely.

Motto: "Not a zombie. Just a man who died and forgot to stop breathing."

CANON! HANNIBAL

"I smelled out the cyanide and told everyone."

The one who watches. No AU. No alternate choices. Just… him. The original. The blueprint. He sits at the head of the table, observing the others with something between curiosity and contempt. He caught the bouquet (accidentally). He doesn't believe in marriage. He's not sure he believes in anything. But he's learning. Slowly. Watching the other Hannibals—their joys, their griefs, their failures—and wondering if any of them could have been him.

Key features: No grippy socks. No overalls. No silver ring. No black tears. Just… Hannibal. Polished. Controlled. Hungry. Maybe changing. Maybe not.

Motto: "I don't believe in marriage." (Caught the bouquet anyway.)

BONUS: THE LEAF

"FUCK!"

The one who started it. A rogue leaf, nestled in the bouquet thrown by Widowed Hannibal. It flew through the air, smacked TM! in the face, lodged itself in his eye, and caused a chain reaction that led to a hoe-swinging, mallet-breaking, garden-transforming brawl. Small. Green. Devastating.