#answer my prayers hannibal fandom

[artikals]

wait wdym hannibal is a 2013 series... I thought there was like, confirmed gay romance in it

[fancyoats]

Hannibal Tag

Tagged by @diemetzgermeisterin Thanks babe!

Books, Movies, or T.V. show: definitely the show

Favorite Character: Hannibal.  He’s got such an idiosyncratic world view, he’s so controlled but so vulnerable and lonely at the same time.  Such a great character.

Favorite moment of the entire franchise: In the stables when Hannibal cradles Will’s neck and whispers sweet nothings about caterpillars.  Also when they are eating fake Freddie for dinner and making heart eyes at each other. Also the ortolans.  Also when they meet again in the Uffizi Gallery like old lovers.  Also the montage where Hannibal is preparing for the dinner party in Fromage with the rolodex and the organs and such.  I could keep going, really, there are so many favorite moments.

Favorite quote of the entire franchise: “With all my knowlegde and intrusion I could never entirely predict you. I can feed the caterpillar and I can whisper through the chrysalis, but what hatches, follows its own nature and is beyond me.”

Fight scene you’d want to see on NBC’s Hannibal: I’d like to see one legged Bedelia and burned up Chilton sass each other.  

Alternative theme song to NBC’s Hannibal: I get feelings from Drawn to the Blood by Sufjan Stevens:

I'm drawn to the blood The flight of a one-winged dove How? How did this happen? How? How did this happen? The strength of his arm My lover caught me off guard How? Head of a rabbit How? Head of a rabbit For my prayer has always been love What did I do to deserve this? With blood on my sleeve Delilah, avenge my grief How? God of Elijah How? God of Elijah As fire to the sun Tell me what I have done How? Heart of a dragon How? Heart of a dragon For my prayer has always been love What did I do to deserve this now? How did this happen?

Favorite book from the series: I read the books a super long time ago, so I don’t feel like I can answer this one adequately.  Maybe it’s time for a re-read.

Favorite movie from the series: Silence of the Lambs

Favorite episode from NBC’s Hannibal: Su-Zakana:  “is your social worker in that horse?”  I still can’t even believe this whole thing happened.

Hannibal Season 4, yes or no: YES, obviously!  Especially if there is kissing!

Alternative hobbies to replace Hannibal’s cannibalism: I wonder if he would like to learn knitting?  Or embroidery?

Alternative animals for Will to collect: Maybe sheep so he could supply Hannibal with wool for his new knitting hobby.

Animal (mythical or real) you’d tattoo on your back like Francis Dolarhyde: One of those animals in the margins of medieval manuscripts that is like part deer and part fish and part lion but is really confused about its situation.

What brought you into the fandom; books, movies, or T.V. series: There were threads on Metafilter back when season 2 was going on and I was like “hmm, maybe this is actually a good show?” And so I started watching it from the beginning right when season 3 started and caught up furiously and basically binged forever and over and over that summer and have been lost to this fandom ever since.

Least Favorite scene from the entire franchise: When Mason takes Margot’s uterus etc.  It’s the worst.  So much evil and suffering.

Add Clarice to NBC’s Hannibal, yes or no: Maybe, but I don’t want Hannibal to love anyone but Will.  Any interest he would have in Clarice would be but a pale shadow of his obsession with Will.  

Favorite killer of the week: The organ harvester.  So hilariously inept!  

Hannibal invites you to a dinner party, you…: Go out to get a wicked good bottle of wine to bring as a gift.  

Your reaction to Mizumono (S2 finale): Will, babe, just run away with him, you know you want to, ugggggghhhh.... What?!??!....Abigail’s alive? Wait, are they going to kiss?  They are going to kiss! I can’t believe it, noooooooo they didn’t even kiss!!!!!  Noooo......they can’t ALL die, can they?  noooooooooooooooooo....oh look at that fucker ordering champagne

Your reaction to The Wrath of The Lamb (S3 finale): Will, babe, just run away with him, you know you want to, oh good, it’s happening....I wonder if they kissed?  Ok, good, drinking wine....nooooo....how can he be shot?  NOOO don’t stab Will!  His beautiful face!  Oh GOD it’s HAPPENING look at them working together.....wait are they going to kiss??  THEY ARE GOING TO KISS....noooooooooooooo not over the cliff no no no no no no no they can’t die they can’t die noooooooooooooooooo *opens AO3 immediately and reads alll the post-fall fic forever*

I’d love to hear from @heartturnedtoporcelain, @red-earth-rising, @tiggymalvern, @still-eating-the-rude, @sofancydancy, @purplesocrates

[fallenangelofmurderhusbands]

Death’s Beloved - A Hannigram Fic

((I can’t believe I am finally posting this somewhere. This is the first fic I have written for this wonderful fandom - and myself - and I hope you all enjoy it! Please let me know if you find any errors, or have any comments. Right now this is just a simple stand alone one shot, but if enough readers request, I may create a sequal. 

Special thank you to @spider-viking @goddessakinator @asswhippingspoon @skeleton-wearing-a-bikini and @fataldrum for being amazing betas and offering to help me out! Sorry if I missed anyone, if I did just let me know and I’ll add you in!

Enjoy you lovely fannibals! 

-ML))

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        It was time. He had fought against it for so long.

Will’s eyes flicked down to his wrist, unfocused and distant they scanned over the date and times marked there.

                    August 29th 2013 – 11:58 pm. August 29th 2013 – 11:59 pm. August 30th 2013 – 12:00 am.

        He knew what the black tattoos scrawling across his wrist meant –  everyone had a similar one. The first was when you would accomplish your lifelong goal, the second when you would meet your soulmate and the third when you would die. Luckily for him, all the times on his wrist were minutes apart. As for why it was unlucky, well, no one wanted to never be able to live with their soulmate. He’d tried his hardest to make his times change. As rare as it was, there were stories of some who’d managed the feat. He’d tried everything, from praying to attempting suicide, but it was always met with the same outcome – nothing. Prayers went unanswered, and he was always found and saved before death could claim him. He’d eventually stopped trying, letting destiny carry him to his fate, numb to the pity people tossed his way.

        Will believed it was easier this way – living alone, surrounded by dogs and acres of empty land. People were distracting, what with all the pity and sorrow clouding their eyes. He didn’t need them to feel bad for him. After his third and last suicide attempt in high school, he had accepted that he would never have a life with the person he was destined to love. Instead, he poured his life and love into his passions and dreams. Fishing and writing became his escape from work, people, and the harsh reality in which he lived.

Now he stood at his front door, key halfway to the lock, eyes on his wrist. Today was the day. August twenty-ninth. The inevitable was closing in, and all he could do was heave a sigh. Finally, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, unlocked his door, and went inside. His herd of happy dogs greeted him, causing him to remain by the door to properly say hello and goodbye to each one. It was the buzzing of his cell that eventually forced him to move, setting down his keys and pulling out his phone. Jack’s number glowed under his phone’s clock, the time mocking him as it slowly ticked away. 8:00 pm. Four hours, the voice in his head whispered. Too long. Will hit the decline button, ignoring the call. Not tonight, Jack. Of all the nights, definitely not tonight.

Despite his oncoming death, a small smile appeared on his face as he walked into his bedroom, gaze falling onto the moonlit writing desk on which rested a book. Published under a pseudonym, the book was Will’s first step in achieving his life goal to change the world and be remembered after his death. It hadn’t so much been his ego as it was fear of fading from existence that had created the goal.

But now, a sense of calm washed through him as he took a seat and slid his book from the center of the desk to the top left corner to make room for the last draft of his second and final book. He pulled it from the top drawer to his right – it was sitting carefully atop the stack of previous rough drafts. His first book had taken off, becoming a bestseller for four consecutive years, and remaining in the top five for two more. The time stamp on his wrist told him he would succeed (although it could be argued that he had already), but that his last book would be published posthumously. Aware and uncaring, of the fact he wouldn’t experience the joy of publication again, he nevertheless lost himself in a final editing session with a carefree smile. At least this book would have his real name on the cover. If you couldn’t escape your fate, you might as well embrace it. Will had learned that lesson long ago.

        As fate had decreed, when he set his pen down for the last time, final draft complete, the clock read 11:58. Deciding he had a moment to spare (and not wanting to meet his soulmate in the bedroom, of all places), he headed to the kitchen for a celebratory glass of wine.

A man appeared as his tongue touched sweet, red liquid for the first time that night. Will’s eyes widened slightly as he shakily set his glass back down on the counter, taking in the sight before him. Only slightly taller, but with an ethereal air of confidence Will could never hope (literally, now) to emulate, the man that stood before him sported an immaculate dark plaid suit and bittersweet expression with equal grace and naturalness. His silver-streaked hair had been combed back into smooth but slightly choppy swoops, and Will could catch a glimpse of piercing amber eyes from underneath their soft streaks. The man spoke first, voice warm but words sending a shiver down Will’s spine. “I am Death,” was all he said before sweeping forward to taste the unswallowed wine on Will’s blood-stained lips. The clock struck midnight as their lips met and the sweet kiss of Death stole his breath and his soul.

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Will woke up to darkness blanketing the room. Rolling over in the bed, he reached out for his bedside lamp and upon finding it, flicked it on. He sat up with a yawn, then felt his eyes grow wide when he saw he wasn’t in his room. The suite sized bedroom was magnificent – Roman in taste, with white marble walls and high ceilings. Furnished with what appeared to be ludicrously expensive possessions, Will found himself awestruck by the sight before him.

        Awe gave way to confusion and surprise, which clouded his mind as he hesitantly got out of bed with the intention of exploring. He noticed the balcony doors were open to let in a warm night breeze and, drawn to the view he’d seen, he walked towards them. He hesitated when he saw a figure standing with its back to him, but when calm instead of fear seeped into his heart, he found the courage to approach the man. Will was welcomed with kind eyes and a warm smile, which he returned effortlessly (to his surprise). Still unsure of where he was and who he was with, Will tried his best to review his memories, only to find he couldn’t recall them. A hazy barrier, which was slowly ebbing away to his relief, kept them at bay for the moment.

        “You are awake. I was curious as to how long you would sleep.”

Will smiled as he gazed at the starry sky, but his brows creased when the realization came to him.

        “You’re Death… and my soulmate…” His voice trailed off in a wary whisper as the now-dubbed Death nodded. “Where is the moon, Death?” He could feel his memories slowly returning to him as he gazed out at the infinite space.

        “It has yet to die. Therefore, it cannot exist upon this plane.” Death paused a moment before continuing. “Tell me, what was it like to die?”

The soft voice snapped him back to awareness, memories flooding in, but the last thing he remembered was the kiss. His confusion manifested as sassiness as he responded. “What the hell are you talking about?”

        “You do not remember?” Death pursed his lips at his love’s choice of language, but if he disapproved, he didn’t address it.

        “I remember you kissing me and then I woke up here. Are you telling me I died, then?” Even as he asked, the answer was made evident by his blank wrist. The dates and times only left if the act had been fulfilled. He was indeed dead.

        “Contrary to the epics of old, you could not join me here unless you were dead. So, in short, yes. You died as we kissed.”

        “The kiss of Death. I could kill you for being so cliché.” Will chuckled, relaxing a bit more in Death’s presence. Of course the man he was destined to spend eternity with thrived on cliché puns.

        “Darling, I am already dead,” Death chided halfheartedly, amused by the man’s fiery spirit which, even in the realm of the dead, had brought a spark of life. He would become a powerful reaper, Death realized, and the idea pleased him greatly. A gently kiss drew him from his thoughts.

        “Care to share, love? What were you thinking about?” The pet name slid off Will’s tongue before he could catch it, but he didn’t care. After years of running, he’d finally learned fate’s plan for him – to love and be loved by this man – so why shouldn’t he start trusting in fate and in Death?

        “You.” Death smiled down at him, wrapping him in a strong and surprisingly warm embrace.

        “What about me?”

        “Your future, specifically. You have the potential to become a very powerful reaper.”

        “Oh. So now I have to work for my husband?” Will feigned annoyance, though his words carried weight.

        “Alongside, not for. I would never treat you as anything but my equal. Speaking of which – please call me Hannibal. Death is merely a title. It is not my name. And we cannot keep calling each other pet names forever. Would a first name basis not be more appropriate, Will? We are soulmates after all.”

        “U-um, yes we are soulmates. And yes, we should be, Hannibal. Now, if you would be so kind as to answer my question love, how do I become this ‘powerful reaper’?” Will smirked defiantly.

        “It is a process –  a becoming, so to speak. But it starts with the taking of your first life.” Hannibal sighed at Will’s dramatics and focused on the question instead.

        “Well, what are we waiting for?” Will smirked again as he saw the fire dance behind Hannibal’s eyes. He said nothing, and for once, nothing was the only answer Will needed.

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        The bracelet around his wrist caught the moonlight as his hand shot up to grip the jaw of the man before him. He had smoke in his eyes and Death at his back as he sucked the soul from yet another victim. As a murderer of families, this soul had been condemned to Hell.

        Hannibal had been right – his love carried a spark of life within his soul, and this stopped him from being able to reap the souls of the innocent. Will’s splinter of life caused him to empathize with them until he was incapable of taking their vibrant life. Death loved this about him, and was always there to reap those that Will couldn’t – Hannibal would never force him to give up his gift.

        However, when it came to the souls condemned to Hell, Will was merciless. Often finding pleasure in stealing their spark of life, he once admitted to Hannibal that doing bad things to bad people felt good and powerful. Hannibal’s response had merely been to smile in praise.

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Now, many years later, Will Graham is still remembered. His last book has become a classic, the material helping to better the world even as years progressed. But he is also remembered by a different name. Mortis Cupitus. Death’s Beloved. His presence has found its way into mythology. Stories told in the dead of night describe the man who takes vengeance on those who have sinned. Some say he is made from smoke and justice, others say he is dark matter and starlight. But despite the variations and ambiguity within each account, one fact remains constant – the bracelet around his wrist.

        As the saying goes, the charm bracelet had been a celebratory gift from Death after his love’s first kill, and Death’s Beloved adds a charm to the bracelet for every life he takes. The jingling of the charms is the only warning you get that he is there, and the flash of moonlight on the bracelet as his hand rises to your jaw is the last thing you’ll remember seeing before he sucks out your soul.