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sailorbowie · 4 months

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thoughts on Bedelia x Chiyoh?

I can see a lot of potential in them having a dynamic considering their respective track record involving Hannibal in their lives. While I feel like that would be one thing they'd have in common, I don't think it would be the only thing that gets a conversation started between them.

Bedelia and Chiyoh are both very dangerous women in their own regards. Bedelia utilizes a sharp mind, and Chiyoh utilizes both a sharp mind and a dangerously good aim. Their outlooks on others could be read similarly, and they share a similar objective of survival through any cost. Regretfully, we don't learn more about Chiyoh beyond what we're given, and Bedelia's thrilling chapter ends with her at the dinner table, serving severed and being served.

So what if it had ended a different way?

What if Bedelia and Chiyoh's paths crossed in Florence? Or in the U.S.? Once they both get past their history with Hannibal over wine, maybe they could examine the other past the veil and maybe reveal themselves to one another. It could be gentle. It could be violent. I think maybe it could go in any direction. I think that's the beauty in their characters. While I don't feel particularly drawn to them as a romantic/sexual pairing I could see the appeal.

If anyone's inspired, I say go for it!

#vic speaks #vic talks #bedelia du maurier #chiyoh #hannibal nbc #bedelia x chiyoh #chiyoh x bedelia

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atomicpalacedragonpeach · 8 months

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Ok so, this might be a bit of a wild shot and maybe others have theorized this before, but I think bedelia and chiyoh are kinda mirror Hannibal and will in a really interesting way. Bedelia kinda projects herself as a victim of sorts who wants nothing to do with violence. She tends to reacts with horror whenever Hannibal does something violent, yet whenever she is manipulating Hannibal, she is pretty much constantly urging him to kill will, ie violent tactics. Chiyoh, on the other hand, has willingly isolated herself for who knows how many years so she wouldn't have to kill the prisoner. She could have just left him to die of starvation years ago and freed herself that way, but she didn't. It was only in self defense that she ended up killing the man who killed Misha. And she tells will of the train that there is a means of influence other than violence. And while I do think Will likes violence at this point, I think Chiyoh could mirror the part of him that is non violent towards those he thinks doesn't deserve it since he has that whole doing bad things to bad people makes him feel good thing going on.

And the fact that bedelia is kinda posh and refined and a psychiatrist while chiyoh is hunting birds while isolated in the middle of nowhere? I don't know, it's not perfect, but I find it really interesting how well two of the women that season three focuses on are so similar in some ways to will and hannibal. With bedelia choosing violence and chiyoh choosing other means other than violence.

#hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannibal x will #hannigram #will graham #bedelia du maurier #chiyoh

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cora-writes-things · 3 years

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Femslash February Day 19: Gold & Day 26: Silver

Fandom: Hannibal (TV)

Pairing: Bedeliyoh (Bedelia/Chiyoh)

Read the corresponding mini-fic, “Gold & Silver”: (AO3) (Wattpad) (FFN)

All posts: {Day 1} {Day 5} {Days 8 & 17} {Days 12 & 16} {Day 18} {Days 19 & 26} {Day 20} {Day 27}

Interested in joining #femslashfeb2021 with fanwork(s) of your own? Check out the prompts here!

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silentlambs · 4 years

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what if you read my chiyoh/bedelia fic? just kidding haha... unless? 😳

#it's short so ! nothing's stopping you #i think the most used name for them is #chiyodelia #hannibal #chiyoh x bedelia #my writing

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humanveil · 6 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hannibal (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chiyoh/Bedelia Du Maurier Characters: Bedelia Du Maurier, Chiyoh (Hannibal) Additional Tags: Season/Series 03, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:

Hannibal is caged. The world keeps turning.

#hannibal #femslash #chiyoh x bedelia #chiyoh/bedelia #writings #*

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bu0nanotte · 3 years

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Secondo - aka the ep where Bedelia and Chiyoh FLAYED Hannigram with the gay juju and we got two confessions veiled in poetic pretention

#mygifs #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal x will #otp #murder husbands #hannibal season 3 #throwback #parallels #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #chiyoh #bedelia du maurier #gillian anderson #idek #im drunk giffing #hannibal rewatch

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consensual-canibalism · 3 years

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quick little marlana head cannon:

margot was always afraid that no one would love her for her, she always thought they would love her for her money. so when margot proposed to alana she was scared alana wouldn't like the ring, she thought that maybe alana would want a bigger diamond or something like that. when she held the ring out to alana, she took the box in her hand and pulled margot up and kissed her, a super tender kiss, tearful, ya know the whole romantic shabang and alana set the box with the ring on the table behind her and they moved away from the table. ever sense then margot knew alana loved her for her and not for her money

also i feel like alana literally forgot about the ring until like an hour later because she is just so in love with margot and she isn't materialistic. she doesn't need a ring to prove her love

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fangirlforlife97 · 4 years

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Just finished my Hannibal rewatch a little bit ago!! Still one of my top favorite shows of all times, even if it is a rather dark and sometimes disturbing show. Fingers crossed that after all this time we'll finally get a season 4, especially because of all the talk surrounding Hannibal lately. Not to mention that if it did get saved after all this time and people started writing articles about it that more people my be tempted to watch it!??

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elissastillstands · 5 years

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Hello, that "After All Endings" is giving me the eye. What is it about?

ALANA

“He won’t think to look for us here,” she whispers into the dark, soft space between them. Margot is curled around her like a root of an old oak, wind-steady, sinking the fine strength of her arms and legs through the soil of Alana’s fear. “He–he can’t–”

Margot hushes her, stroking her fingers through her hair. “It’ll be okay,” she murmurs.

“Margot–”

“It will.”

Next to them on the bed, Alex stirs. He’s two now, almost three, still too young to know how nightmares can bleed into the waking day, and Alana will kill to keep him in such a world. She buries her head in the round of Margot’s shoulder, feeling the slight but titanic shift of her bones beneath her skin, the sweat which transfers onto her mouth, an impression of living salt on her tongue.

“I hate this,” Alana says into Margot’s skin. “I hate this, I hate him, I hate them, I hate–”

When she was a child, she loved stories about fantastic things, creatures beautiful and savage which lived in the spaces between stars, heroes and immortals and gods and angels. Now she has lived those stories, and she hates most how her sense of wonder is gone, how fantasy now makes her hard and tired.

“–I hate how they made me sick of fairy tales,” she finishes.

“This is Vegas, honey,” Margot says, laughing under her breath. Her fingers are warm on Alana’s spine. “There ain’t any fairy tales here.”

Outside their window, the lights of the strip glitter, blunt garish torches to keep the monsters at bay.

[More of the excerpt and thoughts under the cut.]

—–

MOLLY

Time moves on. Their dogs are given to adoption. She and Wally go to therapy–she’ll probably be seeing a counsellor for the rest of her life. Her friends from work bombard her with flowers and condolences and offers to spend time with her, and Molly smiles at them and thanks them for everything they do, and she shoves the flowers in the trash after they leave. She sometimes tears them apart, when she’s sure Wally’s asleep. It feels good, to destroy something. It makes her feel better than she’s felt in weeks.

Dr. Williams tells her not to blame herself for what happened.

“I’m not self-accusatory,” Molly tells the other woman with a brittle smile. “I’m angry.”

The doctor nods. “Anger can be good. Anger keeps you alive.”

She’s angry. She’s angry that she’ll never be able to own a dog again without thinking of Will. She’s angry that her baby boy has nightmares and panic attacks, and she’s now afraid of the shadows in her own house. She wants to scream and rage every time she looks on the news and sees breathless speculation about the serial killer and her ex-husband, whether they’re still alive, what they want with each other, where they are now. She sometimes hears her own name, and that makes her angrier than anything else.

Molly Foster, the victim, the helpless damsel, the duped outsider, and–God help her–the other woman. A side character in a story that gave her a scar and a broken heart and memories she’ll carry to the grave.

Why don’t they ever talk about how angry she is?

—–

REBA

“The people at the office sure do love you, honey,” her sister tells her.

“They’re very welcome for these. I certainly can’t eat all this by myself, even with your help,” Reba says, putting in a final pie in the oven.

She had decided to stay in her sister’s apartment for a little while after she was released from the hospital. Talia works as a real estate agent, having abandoned her dreams of becoming an actor after two years of failed auditions. Her place is nicer than anything Reba could afford. It smells like coffee and takeout and is filled with noises from the street, more than enough to banish the things bouncing around her head in the night. Her sister had offered time and time again for Reba to stay with her. Reba had refused for years, but she needs to be around people right now.

Plus, she’s a stress baker. Stress baking is only good around other people.

Reba loves baking. She had learned how to weigh out ingredients and gauge batters by feel on her grandmother’s knee. The smells of hot sugar and fruit buried are buried deep in her heart, the motions of rolling out dough ingrained into her muscles. It’s in her blood.

She’s not going to let the memory of a man drain the blood from her.

—–

BEDELIA

The candles are still luminescent in the gloom of the room, each one haloed and saintly, smudges of light in the haze of her vision. They drift with her, light reflecting in the ocean of her consciousness, rippling as she begins to sway. She can barely smell her own leg now. Her smell has become a faint, sour wind.

Any moment now. She’ll slip into the light any moment now–

“Oh, Doctor, you clever bird.”

Bedelia forces her eyes open at the satin voice rubbing against her ears. The face above hers swims, dark eyes shining, reflective as the barrel of the rife hovering over the woman’s shoulder. She is limned in gold, more saintly than the candles.

“How did you find me?” Bedelia says, or tries to say.

“You live not inconspicuously, Doctor,” Chiyoh says, brushing stone-cool fingers against her face. “What did you take?”

“Aconite. Over weeks. It makes the body inelegant. Bitter. Inedible. Poison for those who consume.” She has no wish to be consumed with impunity.

Chiyoh’s face moves from her sight, her halo dissolving back into candlelight. Bedelia’s eyes slip closed again, and she hears the faint tapping of fingers on a phone. The dial tone is barely audible, like the buzz of a fly. She imagines carrion flies buzzing around her, and it makes her smile, to know that they will not rot her bitter flesh.

Someone picks up Chiyoh’s call with a gruff greeting. Bedelia knows that voice, an honest, unpoetic one.

“Jack Crawford,” Chiyoh proclaims, the tones of his name musical on her tongue, “I am at Dr. Du Maurier’s residence. Hannibal and Will were here. The doctor poisoned herself so they could not eat her. She is in dire need of medical assistance.”

The agent is cut off mid-curse as Chiyoh ends the call. The soft fingers return to Bedelia’s face. “I will see you soon, Doctor.” The hunter stays until the sirens come, and then slips away just as all sound fades, and the black becomes a maw.

Bedelia is faintly aware that she is smiling. She is not easily eaten by the dark.

—–

Thank you for requesting this ancient pet project of mine, Flo! Reading over this to choose excerpts was really fun and I’ve actually become really excited about it again. Hence why the excerpt is just the first section of each of the narrators. It’s a Hannibal fic (imagine that, a non-Disco fic) addressing the lives of the women of the show after The Wrath of the Lamb. While I enjoyed the finale as much as anyone, I was really frustrated by how little resolution was given for the women of the Red Dragon arc (and, generally, how little narrative time was given to the women).

The planned plot is basically thus: Margot and Alana make a new life in California with their son. Molly and Reba heal. Molly repairs her relationship with her family and becomes a journalist. Reba starts teaching photography development classes at a local university. Molly and Reba meet and bond over their horrific experiences; Walter starts looking to Reba for advice. Molly and Reba ultimately enter into a relationship. Chiyoh and Bedelia become lovers; Bedelia starts writing a book on Renaissance art, and Chiyoh starts to plan how to take Hannibal and Will down. There will be appearances from Freddie, Jack, Bella’s family, and a cast of other characters.

I love writing for Hannibal, but I’ve never published anything in the fandom. We all know how much I love Dante, classics, Renaissance art, and a lot of descriptions, and the show just invites all that. I just might finish and publish this, even though f/f content in the Hannibal fandom sometimes feels like a disappointingly small community. I can indulge all my bad writing urges in Bedelia. Someone please stop me.

#hannibal #alana bloom #margot verger #bedelia du maurier #chiyoh #molly foster graham #reba mcclane #marlana #alana bloom x margot verger #bedelia du maurier x chiyoh #molly foster x reba mcclane #L's stuff #onaperduamedee

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banshee-cheekbones · 7 years

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for day 14 of Inktober for Writers, here’s some Bedelia/Chiyoh, based on the prompt ‘haunted.’

no warnings apply, 700 words, rated G. on ao3 here.

They do most of their talking in the darkness.

The heavy blackout blinds covering Bedelia's floor to ceiling windows don't let in a single iota of light; it's only the red numbers of her alarm clock, floating in a sea of blackness the consistency of tar, that gives the room some semblance of shape and form, that keeps it from simply being a void of darkness.

Chiyoh is resting on the bed beside her, motionless. Even in the stillness and silence of the room, her breathing is nearly impossible to hear, could easily be mistaken for some other kind of sound, one of the idiosyncrasies that all houses possess in varying ways, like creaking floorboards or windows that groan in the wind. It's only her body heat soaking into the mattress that betrays her existence at all.

Perhaps if she got cold enough, if her body heat became low enough, she would simply blink out of existence.

“Your home is haunted,” Chiyoh says into the blackness, her voice soft and measured, the words always carefully chosen, no room for spontaneity.

Bedelia wonders how long she’s been pondering over those words, how long it took her to choose them to split the post-coital silence with.

“I wasn’t aware that you believed in ghosts,” Bedelia replies, rolling onto her side, the silk sheet bunching and shifting along the line of her hips.

Chiyoh’s laugh is a very strange thing, unpracticed and quiet, like she’s still trying to form it, mold one that suits her.

“I don’t. Even if they did exist, memories haunt us with far more efficiency than any specter ever could.”

“Yes,” Bedelia says simply. She doesn’t need to ask what kind of memories Chiyoh is referring to; there’s only other person who has so thoroughly invaded the corners and open spaces of her home, whose presence has left remnants as clearly as if they had branded their signature there, on walls and floors instead of skin. Some days, Bedelia turns a corner, walks down a hallway, enters a room, and expects to find him there, standing in her path, holding a glass of wine or perhaps a knife, eyes darkened, the veneer of respectability permanently wiped away.

Although that is more of a defensive mechanism, her mind preparing her for the inevitable final encounter, than it is a series of memories.

“Some nights, I dream about setting the house alight,” she says, speaking into the part of the darkness that Chiyoh inhabits. “Pouring gasoline from room to room. Spreading it heaviest in the rooms that he carved out space in. Stepping out the front door, tossing a book of matches in and watching as the sky turns orange, as the remnants of him turn into curlicues of ash and smoke.” It’s a reoccurring dream of hers. It seems to appear most often around the times that some article or newspaper column about him catches her eye, when some intrepid reporter does a where are they now piece about prominent serial killers.

If he sees the pieces, she’s sure that he’s offended to be included right alongside the offal of humanity.

When Chiyoh does not respond, Bedelia slowly stretches out her hand until she brushes against the warm, firm skin of Chiyoh’s thigh. Responsive, powerful muscles flutter underneath her fingertips.

“Do you believe that it would accomplish anything?” she asks, her curiosity piqued by Chiyoh’s silence. “Or would it simply create yet another ash heap?”

“I believe that the fire would be magnificent to see,” Chiyoh answers, resting one of her hands, calloused on the fingertips and the palm, on top of Bedelia’s. “It would attract a crowd. But I do not believe it would end the haunting.” As she rolls onto her side to face Bedelia, Bedelia’s palm skims across her stomach and comes to rest on her other hip. “Hannibal has haunted me my entire life. I don’t believe there is a way to get rid of him. I believe the only thing to do is to accept that he will always be there, always in the next room over. Waiting in the darkest corners.”

Bedelia sighs deeply and slides across the space, until their legs twine together, until Chiyoh’s body heat becomes her own.

“That,” she murmurs, leaning in until she can feel Chiyoh’s breath against her cheek, “is precisely what I’m afraid of.”

#inktober for writers #bedelia x chiyoh #hannibal femslash #ladiesofhannibal #bedeliyoh #what an interesting ship name that is #mine #mine: fic #bedeliachiyoh #anyways here's this #this is dialogue heavy #much like the show

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galacticcoyote · 7 years

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Femslash Ex Gifts

I received two very lovely Hannibal fics this year for Femslash Ex. It was my first year doing the fest and I definitely got spoiled!

wait till you’re announced by Lizzen: Chiyoh/Abigail Two celestial bodies orbiting the same sun.

out of the black (into the blue) by FreshBrains: Chiyoh/Bedelia Du Maurier “He’s gone,” Chiyoh says, voice hollow.

“Yes,” Bedelia agrees. “But I remain.”

#femslashex #fic rec #hannibal femslash #ladiesofhannibal #chiyoh #bedeliyoh #bedelia du maurier #abigail hobbs #chiyoh x abigail

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

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Dolce

3x06

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, blood, drugs

Author’s Note: I don’t want to leave Florence :( but i do be missing the dogs

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary: Jack seriously doubts Will's loyalties as the two renew their alliance. Mason Verger plots Hannibal Lecter's capture, while Lecter plans for his final stand.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95 @sweetgoodangel

(not my gif)

all gifs @/rocktheholygrail

Hannibal sat in the bathtub. His head leaned against the side of it. Bedelia sat beside him. She wrung a sponge over his broken, beaten and cut body. Hannibal's eyes landed on hers and his pain saw you, wishing that you were there. He had been waiting for you and Will to arrive, wishing that it was going to happen. He wanted it to be you cleaning his wounds.

He needed it to be you cleaning his wounds.

His wish to have you come with him in the first place that was so strained he didn’t even realize the severity of it until just that moment. In pain, bleeding, sensing the end of something.

Jack Crawford looked at the dead body of Pazzi. It was being carted off by the police, the duck tape still pressed onto his face. Jack was tired. He had gotten a few scratches from his fight with Hannibal but none as severe as Hannibal’s.

Will walked up to Jack. Jack saw him out of the corner of his eye and situated himself toward his former colleague.

“He’s wounded and worried.” You emerged from the crowd behind Will and gave Jack a simple look. Both of you were scratched up. Dried blood covered Will’s forehead and there was a scratch on your cheek. You both clearly had been through something but Jack had not time to ask.

“Hannibal doesn’t worry. Knowing he’s in danger won’t rattle him any more than killing does,” Will said. The three of you looked into the Atrocious Torture Exhbiit, the place where Hannnibal and Jack had fought it out.

“If Rinaldo Pazzi decided to do his duty as an officer of the law, he could have detained Dr. Fell and determined very quickly that he was Hannibal Lecter. Would have taken thirty minutes to get a warrant,” Jack said solemnly.

“All those resources were denied to Pazzi. Once he decided to sell Hannibal, he became a bounty hunter,” Will stated. You scoffed.

“Serves him right. Mason Verger is trying to capture Hannibal himself for purposes of personal revenge. I've often wanted to use my own resources to drop him in his pig's den,” you muttered.

“Have you told la polizia they’re looking for Hannibal Lecter?” Will asked Jack.

“They’re motivated to find Dr. Fell inside the law. Knowing who he is..and what he’s worth, will just coax them out of bounds.”

“It would be a free-for-all,” Will pointed out.

“And Hannibal would slip away.” Jack paused. Both you and Will were facing opposite directions, looking at different artifacts. “Would you slip away with him?”

You and Will shared a look.

“Part of me will always want to,” Wil said.

“You have to cut that part out,” Jack argued.

“You aren’t FBI anymore Jack. You can’t tell either of us what to do,” you sneered. You believed that. Jack had no bearings over your feelings for Hannibal. You were annoyed he thought he had any.

“So you’ll go with him to jail?” Jack asked. You faced him completely.

“If I had come with him to Florence he wouldn’t be going to jail.”

“And that’s what you want?” Jack challenged. You stepped forward to him.

“I hate to see you win Jack.”

“You had him. He was beaten. Why didn’t you kill him?” Will asked, stepping in. Jack, eyes still on you, considered it.

“Maybe I need you to.”

Hannibal looked out the window. He was wearing a cozy sweater, cuddling into it for the last glimpse of hope he may get before a cage. He sketched into his book. Memories of Florence.

“I want to be able to draw these streets from memory. I want to be able to draw the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo,” Hannibal said whimsically. Bedelia approached him and took the book from his hand.

“You won’t be coming back here for a very long time,” she whispered.

“Memories of Florence will be all I have. Florence is where I became a man. I see my end in my beginning.”

“All of our endings can be found in our beginnings. History repeats itself and we can’t escape it,” Bedelia stated, turning into the home. Hannibal glanced at the small suitcase. Hsi coat was draped over it.

“You packed lightly,” he stated.

“I packed for you.” She paused a moment and off his questioning look, moved forward. “This is where I leave you. Or more accurately, where you leave me.”

Hannibal nodded slowly. His eyes scanned from the suitcase to her eyes. In essence he was aware he was giving up his Florence hope of you and him. He was aware that he was saying goodbye to Bedelia and also your alternate self.

In hopes to see you again, perhaps for real this time.

Bedelia put a needle carefully on her table. She saw the face of Chiyoh in the back of her mirror and turned around simply, confused at her presence.

“You must be looking for Hannibal Lecter. One of his patients?” she questioned.

“No, not a patient. Where is he?” Chiyoh asked. Her gun was in her hand delicately. It looked like it weighed a feather.

“Gone. Seeing how you let yourself in, I hope it’s not too forward to ask, who the hell are you?”

“Family,” Chiyoh landed on.

“Ah. You’ve come a long way from home,” Bedelia pointed out.

“Who are you?”

“I’m his psychiatrist.” Chiyoh glanced at the ampoule and needle. Bedelia shrugged.

“Medicinal purposes.” Chiyoh studied her further, her eyes narrowed.

“You’re like his bird. I’m his bird, too. I met another one, on the train ride here. He puts us in cages to see what we’ll do.”

“Fly away or dash ourselves dead against the bars,” Bedelia suggested.

“You haven’t flown away.”

Hannibal Lecter looked between the Primavera and his sketchbook. He was drawing it for the thousandth time but this time, in place of the garlanded nymph was your face. In place of pale zephyrus was Will.

Over Hannibal’s shoulder, Will walked into the room. Slowly, the suit that he was wearing suddenly seeming so stuffy. Will’s eyes landed on Hannibal for the first time since Hannibal gutted him. Both men battered and bruised.

He moved forward and gently laid a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal looked up at Will and smiled, pleased to see him. Will sat down beside Hannibal and for a moment they both absorbed the moment.

“Good to see you,” Will said.

“If I saw you everyday forever, Will, I would remember this time,” Hannibal said as he stared at the man that he loved. They stared at each other for a moment and Will’s smile seemed the brightest thing Hannibal had seen in so long.

“Strange to see you in front of me. Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven’t been in years,” Will stated.

“To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig,” Hannibal said lightly.

“I looked up at the night sky there. Orion above the horizon and, near it, Jupiter. I wondered if you could see it, too. She wondered if our stars were the same.”

She.

You. “I believe some of our stars will always be the same. You entered the foyer of my mind and stumbled down the hall of my beginnings.”

“I wanted to understand you before I laid eyes on you again. I needed it to be clear what I was seeing,” Will explained.

“Where does difference between the past and the future come from?” Hannibal questioned.

“Mine? Before you and after you.” He paused. “Yours? It’s all starting to blur. Mischa. Abigail. Chiyoh.”

“How is Chiyoh?”

Between both boys shoulders, you emerged. You were wearing a gorgeous dress that you usually wouldn’t have pulled out. You bought it here in Florence. It reminded you of Hannibal. Plus your other clothes were bloodied. You looked just as battered and bruised as they did.

You all pulled it off with a regal amount of elegance.

“She pushed us off a train,” you said. Hannibal turned around to see you. The first time you had laid eyes on each other since you had kissed. It was interesting for Hannibal now. He had to double check that Will had heard you too.

“Atta girl.”

“Ah, it hurt,” you said. You walked around the bench and sat between them. They allowed you enough room. You looked at Hannibal and smiled. He smiled back at you.

“We have begun to blur,” Will said after a moment more of absorbing.

“Isn’t that how you found me?” Hannibal questioned.

“Even as the possibility of free will dissipates, my experience of it remains the same. I continue to feel and act as though I have it.”

You looked over at Will and then back at Hannibal. You placed your hands on your lap.

“Why did you let Bedelia live?” you asked. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I figured she had been long dead, gone through and out of your digestive system at this point. There should not have been an ounce of her left so imagine my surprise when I see her completely alive. Confused and lying, but alive.” Hannibal looked into your eyes and you understood.

“I think you know why.”

You held your gaze and then had to leave it in fear of getting emotional.

“Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail’s murder, but every murder streching backward and forward in time,” Will said after a moment.

“Then what’s left to do? Freeing yourself from me and me freeing myself from you, they’re the same. No longer seeing you in people who aren’t you Y/N. You are part of his equation just as much as Will and I.”

You smiled solemnly.

“We’re conjoined. Curious if any of us can survive separation,” you mused.

“Now’s the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from thinking.” Hannibal stood up and gestured for you to take his hand. “Shall we?” You took it and stood. Will’s hand was already interlaced between yours, something you did subconsciously when you sat down.

You all stood.

“After you,” Will muttered.

Together the three of you left the gallery. Worse for wear but something blossomed in your hearts, something that only the other two could bring out. You had walked only a few steps before Will was shot to the ground.

Hannibal held Will close to him, trying to get him into the chair. You stood beside him, helping him take his jacket off. Will winced and fell forward, his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered. Will’s shirt was soaked with blood. It was dripping down his arm from where the bullet wound entered.

“The bullet is still inside you. This will hurt.” Hannibal took the jacket all the way off and Will watched as Hannibal cut off his shirt. The three of you hadn’t been this close since you were last covered in Will’s blood.

“Chiyoh’s always been very protective of me,” Hannibal said as he looked into the wound.

“Tell her to back the hell off,” you sneered.

“Did she kill her tenant or did you?”

“She did,” Will choked out.

“Excellent.” Hannibal took Will’s knife you didn’t know he had with him, back into his limp hand. “You dropped your forgiveness, Will.” You stared at the blade, bloodied. You caught Will’s eyes. He hadn’t told you he had brought a weapon. “You forgive how God forgives. Would you have done it quickly, or would you have stopped to gloat?”

“Will?” you whispered.

“Does God gloat?” Will asked.

“Often,” Hannibal answered.

Hannibal moved a sharp needle into Will before you even noticed he had it. Will dropped the blade into Hannibal’s waiting hand. Will passed out.

Your mouth hung open as your gaze held the knife. You still had your hand putting pressure into Will’s wound but it loosened.

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, looking up at Hannibal.

“I know,” Hannibal responded. “You wouldn’t have done it anyway. I’m going to dress his wound and get the bullet out. Would you mind waiting in the kitchen? Dinner is almost ready.”

You were so stunned that you stood up. You felt the pull of needing to be by Will but wondered what he would have done to Hannibal. Would you have gone with it?

Chiyoh was right.

You were not the kind of girl who followed a man's lead.

You grabbed Hannibal’s shoulder and pulled him up.

“Why are you staying?”

“Why didn’t you come with me?”

You stared at each other.

“I love Will.”

“The Bloody Valentines.” You scoffed and took the knife from Hannibal’s hands. You threw it off to the side.

“Will is drugged.”

“Are you going to drug me Hannibal?” You stared at each other and he kissed you feverishly, the way he had wanted to since you kissed him last. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life. You hadn’t touched him in so long.

You pulled away after a moment.

“I wanted to go,” you whispered. “I regretted now going.” You pulled away and stepped back. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Please fix Will.”

Will’s eyes fluttered open. Hannibal walked into the dining room with a large bowl in his hands. Will had a dish set out in front of him.

“I do not indulge much in regret, but I am sorry to be leaving Italy. There were things in the Palazzo Capponi I would have liked to read,” Hannibal admitted. In from the kitchen came you, holding a different dish. You placed it on the table.

A last dodge attempt at normalcy.

“I would have liked to play the clavier and perhaps compose. I might have cooked for the Widow Pazzi, when she overcame her grief. I would have liked to show you both Florence.”

You sat down beside Will and spoon fed him some soup. He looked over at you, confused, doped up.

“The soup isn’t very good,” he slurred.

“It’s a parsley-and-thyme infusion, and more for my sake than yours. Have another sip, let it circulate,” Hannibal explained. Will took another spoon from you. Will and you finally noticed the final place setting at the end of the table.

“Are we expecting company?”

Hannibal grabbed your arm tightly and stood you up.

“It will be Jack,” he told you.

You glanced at Will, out of his mind and slowly losing sight. Hannibal was giving you the invitation you had wanted since Jack stepped into Will’s classroom to talk about Garret Jacob Hobbs.

Jack opened the door to Pazzi’s home. He had his gun held up high as he looked around every corner before he stepped forward. Eventually, Will at the end of the table came into view.

He walked forward and up to Will who blinked, focused on Jack and took a deep breath.

“Hannibal’s under the table, Jack,” Will muttered. Before Jack could react you had grabbed him from behind and a blade slashed Jack’s achilles heel.

Jack dropped hard.

Hannibal turned to you and his gaze softened.

“You will not join me in prison,” he whispered. Your eyebrows furrowed. He grabbed your arm and shoved a needle into your side. You let out a small, betrayed sigh and passed out.

Jack came to and found himself seated opposite Will.

“I’ve taken the liberty of giving you something to help you relax. Won’t be able to do much more than chew, but that’s all you’ll need to do. I didn’t have an opportunity to ask you during our last encounter, but did you enjoy the exhibition? A different kind of evil minds museum,” Hannibal said to Jack.

“Not so different,” Jack retored. He noticed you were gone from the room.

“The promoters are failed taxidermists who formerly got along by eating offal from the trophies they mounted things that bring people together.”

“We were supposed to sit down together back in Baltimore...the three of us. And Y/N.”

“You were to be the guest of honor,” Hannibal said, ignoring the mention of your name. Hannibal poured himself a glass of wine and took a leisurely sip.

“Where…” Will started but he didn’t finish.

“Jack was the first to suggest getting inside your head,” Hannibal said. “Now be both have the opportunity to chew quite literally what we’ve only chewed figuratively.”

Hannibal held a bone saw in his hands. Jack suddenly realized what was going on. For a moment, all Jack could think about was what you would say if you were in the room.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!”

Blood trickled down Will’s head despite his protests.

3x07

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal imagines

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cora-writes-things · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Hannibal (TV)

Pairing: Bedeliyoh (Bedelia/Chiyoh)

femslash100100 prompt: 008. regret

Summary: Chiyoh and Bedelia discuss regret.

Also available on Wattpad and Fanfiction.net.

#femslash #femslash friday #fanfiction #hannibal #bedeliyoh #chiyohdelia #bedelia x chiyoh #chiyoh x bedelia #bedelia du maurier #chiyoh #drabble #fics by me #mine #my post #corawritesthings #cora-writes-things #wlw #sapphic #queer

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slavichorror · 3 years

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okay so I’m super new to the Hannibal fandom but I’ve seen people say that Margot and Alana weren’t actually into each other it was just opportunistic (Alana helps Margot and gets rich as a result). Like ?? What is the truth

im guessing ppl are saying that because of how they were written? cuz to be honest the pairing did come out of left field and more time should’ve been spent on cultivating their connection. if they spent time on developing the female characters in this show and the dynamics of their relationships (margot x alana, beverly x will, bedelia x hannibal, and literally the entirety of chiyoh’s character arch cuz wtf was that????) there would be so much more depth to them & interest rather than just on hannibal and will. (also don’t think they gave enough screen time to jack and bella, including bella as her own character). exploring the aspect of alana wanting margot for her money & influence and margot wanting alana because of her working uterus wouldve been so beneficial for viewers because there would be more layers to their relationship other than. girl meets girl. 0 on screen development between them. they fuck. kill an abuser together (that part i love but it could’ve been heightened with a better written love story for them). i’d argue their relationship would’ve rivalled the main pairing of hannibal & will if they were given more betrayal treachery and extraordinary circumstance (basically if they were written as fully fleshed out characters with dark desires & pasts lol)

#anonymous #asks #yeah this is a long response because im passionate about the topic #also no that’s not the truth it wasn’t opportunistic but basically they were written badly #and by men so 💔💔💔💔💔#that’s probably why some people interpret it like that #i close my eyes and ignore it

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pack-the-pack · 4 years

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Have you classified Hannibal yet? Or seen it?

YES! I love Hannibal! Let’s go!

Hannibal: Alpha.

Will: Alpha if you’re talking canon, but I like to headcanon him as an Omega, cause like... Have you seen young Hugh Dancy without that beard? He looks like a beautiful Disney Princess. Plus I really love fics where Abigail is their biological daughter :3 (Nothing against Alpha x Alpha Hannigram, tho).

Abigail: Omega.

Jack: Alpha.

Bella: Beta.

Alana: Omega.

Margot: Beta.

Mason: Beta.

Freddie: Beta.

Chilton: The most Beta to ever Beta in the history of Betas.

Katz: Alpha.

Brian & Jimmy: Beta

Bedelia: Beta.

Gideon: Beta.