#the implication of him making abigail almost kill alana :( and then will coming and seeing her only to lose her AGAIN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hannibalcreative · 5 years

Photo

Here we are-- it's the Roundup for #ItsStillBeautiful 2019!! It's been a wonderful week seeing all of your love and creativity pour in! We are so grateful for the Fannibal community and the obsession dedication that makes this such a resilient cauldron of love and talent.

Thank you SO MUCH to @and_starlight for the beautiful banner art!! Please go shower them with love! Thank you to the creators and the admirers, the readers and the reviewers, the likers and the... kudo..ers. You are the best fandom.

As always, if we missed something, please let us know, and thank you for your patience!

ROUNDUP TIME!

Art

Old Bones by wholeanddeadly

Summary: Art to lecterisms' fic

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Zombie Dolarhyde by HannibalArtBlog

Summary: Werewolf&Cannibal and Zombie Dolarhyde

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Francis Dolarhyde

Greetings from Havana by idontfindyouthatinteresting

Summary: Greetings from Havana - for #ItsStillBeautiful to celebrate 4 years since the start of Hannibal’s he-ate-us!

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Hannigram

Almost Normal Life by hannibalartblog

Summary: After the fateful battle with the Great Red Dragon, Hannibal and Will retired to live an “almost” normal life. Almost is the right word. Ok, it’s not a normal life at all, but al least they’re not trying to kill each other anymore.

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

I Miss my Murder Husbands by ninayoshi27

Summary: Jumping in and joining #ItsStillBeautiful before the event ends

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Untitled by krovav

Summary: Hannibal and Will evade capture via Will’s seamanship skills and Hannibal’s medical expertise (and probably Swiss bank account), living on a small houseboat with several stray dogs. They assume new identities regularly to rejoin society for dinner parties.

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

One Last Visit by josy57

Summary: For a while now, he had only visited her in dreams –in nightmares sometimes. She had always known one day he would escape and she had always expected that that day, he would come find her. She hadn’t stopped to await his visit, even after reports of his death were featured in the opening of evening news show, plastered on the front page of every newspaper. Eventually, he would kill again, perhaps be caught once more. Whether he came to her or she to him, what Bedelia knew was that there was bound to be at least one last visit. The two of them had unfinished business…

Teen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Hannibal Lecter, Bedelia du Maurier

Bedelia/Hannibal, Bedannibal,

Draped in Shadows by jdragon122

Summary: After the fall, Hannibal wakes up in a place familiar to him. Soon, he realizes that this place is not what it seems, and that they may not have survived after all.

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Werewolf&Canniba by hannibalartblog

Summary: For the @hannibalcreative event #itsstillbeautiful, a new strip of our webcomic Werewolf&Cannibal!

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Francis Dolarhyde

Hannigram

Untitled by Uni

Summary: My contribution for #ItsStillBeautiful

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Fic

Old Bones by lecterisms

Summary: Jack and Hannibal had been near in age, and the obituary listed him as being sixty-eight when he passed. A nice long life, Will supposes, but empty of the love he had had when he was younger, when Bella was alive. A once in a lifetime love, Jack had once described it to Will, after she died. As he looks upon his own once in a lifetime love, he aches with understanding.

Unrated

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Til Death Do Us One by MihaT

Summary: Just a short marriage story

Gen

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Quack Quack by FhimeChan

Summary: Post fall, Will needs a hobby. He has also promised Hannibal a reckoning. Duck herding may just be the thing.

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

It's Still Beautiful by APastandFutureNerd

Summary: Four years have passed since the fall of the bluff and Hannibal decides it is time to take Will back to Florence. But once they have arrived, panic settles in and Will has to calm his husband down.

Mature

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Reaching in the Dark by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe)printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Summary: Following the stunning revelation of the extent of their closeness, Hannibal and Will continue to share dreams - and try to navigate the implications when they take on a sudden, helpless intimacy. Or: Hannibal and Will take the next step. Hannibal veritably bounces.

Explicit

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Oh, What a Tangled Thread We Weave, Myilamis That Nobody Else Can Cut by UnknownMusing

Summary: After slaying of the Great Red Dragon, Will and Hannibal have become connected in ways not believed possible thanks to what are called Soul Threads - threads that come in different colours depending on the Soul Mates. Hannibal and Will's are Crimson - representing a Bond so deep, that it cannot be severed at all.

Explicit

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Still Beautiful by Cinnamaldeide

Summary: Crumbles of unfulfilled expectations: Chapter 133

Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Silent and Breathless by Cinnamaldeide

Summary: Not even water ruined Hannibal’s handsomeness. For the Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive’s #ItsStillBeautiful

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Draped in Shadows by LunaStories

Summary: After the fall, Hannibal wakes up in a place familiar to him. Soon, he realizes that this place is not what it seems, and that they may not have survived after all.

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Abigail Hobbs, Hannibal Lecter, Molly Graham

Hannigram

Impressions of You by RubyBakeneko

Summary: Will and Hannibal are generally at peace with their relationship, but Will avoids discussing the attraction he felt to Hannibal before the fall. Motivated by a combination of compassion and possessiveness, Hannibal tries to get to the roots of Will's discomfort.

Explicit

No Archive Warnings Apply

Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Hannigram

Gifset

Alternative s4 by the-girl-who-didnt-make-anysense

Summary: After the mess with the Red Dragon, everything is questioned.

Mature

No Archive Warnings Apply

Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford, Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Freddie Lounds, Bedelia du Maurier, Jimmy Price, Margot Verger, Brian Zeller

Gen ( no pairings)

#itsstillbeautiful #roundup #masterpost

73 notes · View notes

embulalia · 6 years

Text

Negligence

Chapter 1/5: In Which Will Graham Receives Much Needed Medical Treatment

Summary: After being dismissed entirely by Dr Sutcliffe, Will seeks out a second opinion regarding his degrading health—without Hannibal present. He receives a diagnosis. Hannibal receives a reality check. An AU where Will's encephalitis is treated before Hannibal has the chance to put him behind bars.

[A/N: A fix it AU of sorts, with an “Abigail lives, Murder Family gallivants into the sunset to partake in Highly Questionable But Sweet Domesticity” endgame—and an “it gets worse before it gets better” middle. Written for @softwillgraham‘s birthday.]

[Ao3 link]

“We didn’t find anything abnormal,” said Dr Sutcliffe to Will as they stood in his office, his stomach filling with acid and his headache raging on.

“We didn’t find anything abnormal,” said Dr Sutcliffe to Will as he lay in bed restlessly, feeling as if he was going to dissolve and be absorbed into the bedsheets.

“We didn’t find anything abnormal,” said Dr Sutcliffe to Will as he woke from a daze in the middle of the street with no idea how he got there, his feet sore and his head spinning.

“We didn’t find anything abnormal,” said Dr Sutcliffe to Will as he snapped out of a nightmare in a puddle of sweat and urine, horrified that his dreams had become bad enough to revoke his bladder control.

“We didn’t find anything abnormal,” said Dr Sutcliffe to Will as he quietly scheduled an appointment with a second neurologist, this one in Virginia, without telling anyone about it.

“This is one of the most advanced cases of encephalitis I have seen in a long time,” said this second neurologist as she compared Will’s blood work, MRI scans, and listed symptoms with an incredulous expression. “Why didn’t you see anyone sooner?”

“I did,” Will said quietly, trying to absorb several realizations at once.

“They must have been an incredibly negligent neurologist,” she said with a frown.

“I’m starting to realize that,” Will muttered.

He would continue to realize it as the full extent of his condition’s severity became clear to him. He was hospitalized immediately, and swept along in a rigorous treatment cycle that knocked him out for weeks. He did not tell Dr Lecter where he had gone. He did not tell Jack where he had gone. He didn’t even tell Alana (although he did ask her to watch his dogs during his absence). He sent a brief email to his employer at the Academy, informing her of his sick leave, and retreated into the safety of seclusion as he recovered.

All of his difficulties, all of the pain and fear and misery, were all because his brain was so severely inflamed that he had to be put into a medically induced coma to manage it. “Is there any way this could have been missed?” he asked his neurologist one day.

“If even the most basic of testing was done, no certified neurologist would miss this diagnosis,” she informed him as she checked his chart. He did not tell her that this was nowhere near as reassuring as she thought it would be.

How do you come to terms with the fact that someone you liked, someone you trusted, someone you were genuinely attracted to, intentionally lied to you about your health and worsened your condition? It’s a question he has been asking himself for weeks, and even now, as he sits in the front seat of his car, he has no good answer. It’s such a ridiculous betrayal that he has no idea what to think about it. What would drive Dr Lecter to do something like that? What could he possibly stand to gain?

Will exhales shakily as he turns off the engine. He had arrived at his home almost ten minutes ago, and then just sat idling in the driveway. After his discharge that morning, a feeling of unease had settled over him that persists even now. He still has no idea what happened, nor does he have a clue as to what will happen from here. He opens the car door and steps out onto the pavement. Life goes on, and he will have to go on with it, one way or another.

Reuniting with the dogs eases his worries for a few minutes. It’s difficult to be upset when seven bundles of energetic fluff are licking and sniffling and nudging him, reminding him that love does still exist in this world. But as soon as they have settled, he’s back to thinking.

He doesn’t know very much about what happened, or why. He isn’t even entirely sure what he’s feeling. But he’s angry, he knows that much. Furious, even.

He emails Jack to let him know that his time off has ended. Jack sends back some well wishes and asks if he will be able to return to casework right away, that they have been needing him while he was gone. Will doesn’t respond.

He emails Alana to let her know that his time away has ended. She sends back some friendly concern, a few dog pictures she took while watching them, and asks what was wrong. He says that they can talk about it later.

He emails Abigail to let her know that he would like to see her again soon. She texts him to say that no one uses email anymore. Then she asks if he’s okay. He tells her that he is.

He says nothing to Dr Lecter.

He does not read the twelve emails Dr Lecter sent him while he was in the hospital, although he does glance through the subject lines: “Reminder About My 24 Hour Cancellation Policy”, “Following Up About Our Appointment for Tomorrow”, “If You Have Begun to Use a Different Email Address I Would Appreciate an Update”, “Jack Informed Me You Are On Sick Leave”, “Following Up re: Sick Leave”, “I Tried to Bring You Soup but You Were Not Home”, “Please Inform Me When You Are in Better Sorts.” Will is tempted to read growing desperation into them. But he knows better than that. Dr Lecter would not worry for his wellbeing, no. He actively made it worse.

He plays with his dogs and thinks. He thinks about what the doctors had told him. That he had been having seizures for weeks, that many of his experiences of losing time were likely connected to those seizures. That his somnambulism could have gotten him killed quite easily. That the inflammation could potentially have caused serious damage to his brain had it gone untreated for much longer. That he was incredibly lucky to have responded as well to treatment as he did. That there was absolutely no way that any neurologist could have missed this.

Absolutely no way.

He dreams of Hannibal—a recurring theme as of late. Hannibal holding him underwater, overpowering his desperate flailing. Smiling down at him, his face distorted by the surface of the water. Will is drowning, and Hannibal will not help him.

But he wakes up still in his bed instead of out in the street. He is sweaty, but not enough to leave puddles. His head does not ache. He feels better than he has in months.

His students are thrilled to see him when he walks into class that morning. They applaud his arrival, making him blush furiously and stammer. They pester him with questions about where he has been and if he is feeling better now, questions to which he gives exclusively brief, clipped answers before insisting that they begin the lecture. Jack appears in the doorway about halfway through, but to Will’s absolute shock, he waits until the end of the class period to pull him aside.

“Thank you for not interrupting,” Will says, apologetically waving away the students that attempt to come speak to him.

“I was curious what you would be talking about on your first day back,” Jack tells him, resting his hands on his hips in his typical, dominating stance. “Thought it might be some clue as to where you’d gone.”

Will raises his brows and shakes his head. “No, just… following the curriculum.” He blinks, then registers the implication. He frowns. “I told you where I was.”

“No, you contacted the dean suddenly to say that you needed two weeks off for ‘sick leave,’ then sent me one email saying you were back,” Jack says, something almost accusatory in his tone. “Alana said you hadn’t told her much more than that either.”

“I-I was sick,” Will balks. He had assumed that the first thing Jack would do would be attempting to recruit him for another case; this is far from the greeting he had been preparing for. “I didn’t lie to you guys.”

“Then why weren’t you at home? She told me you had her dogsitting,” Jack steps slightly closer to Will, fixing him with an arresting stare. “If you needed time off from this job that badly, you could have just told me, Will.”

“I wasn’t at home because I was in the HOSPITAL, Jack!” Will hisses, not bothering to point out that even if he had asked for time off, Jack would have been unlikely to give him that break. “I had encephalitis, okay? That’s what was causing all those hallucinations. Extremely advanced, severe encephalitis.”

A certain satisfaction washes over Will as Jack steps back again, shock clear on his face. “Are you serious?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m serious.” Will huffs through his nose and folds his arms over his chest, leaning against his desk. The lecture hall has emptied out now, to his relief. “They said it was one of the most advanced cases they had ever seen.”

“But... you’re okay now?” Jack asks.

Will shrugs, looking down at the carpeted floor. “I think so,” he says carefully, “But… I’m trying to take it slow. Readjust carefully.” A bitter smile spreads across his face. “I got very used to living life with a melting brain.”

Jack furrows his brow. “So you aren’t hallucinating anymore?”

Will shakes his head. “Not as far as I know.”

“Well, that’s great,” Jack says, smiling. “I’m glad to hear it. Maybe that’ll make your job a little easier on you.”

Unlikely, thinks Will. “Maybe,” says Will.

“Have you spoken to Dr Lecter yet?” Jack asks, and Will stiffens. He grits his teeth. “I think he was quite worried about you, you know,” Jack adds, not noticing Will’s distress, “He said something about wanting to bring you warm soup, but finding your house empty? I’m surprised you didn’t tell him where you were.”

“Jack,” Will says, his voice strained, “I don’t want to talk to Dr Lecter ever again.” He pronounces the name as if it tastes like garbage in his mouth. “It’s his fault.”

“What’s his fault? That you got sick?” Jack questions, confusion plain on his face.

“That I got THAT sick, yes,” Will says, digging his fingers into his arms. “He lied to me about it. Said I was fine when I wasn’t.”

Jack looks at him for a moment. And for that moment, Will imagines that this conversation will go the way he wants it to. That Jack will be shocked, and then furious. That he will suggest they storm right over to Lecter’s practice and arrest him for endangering his patients.

The fantasy is shattered by a disbelieving little chuckle.

“Will, come on now,” Jack says, shaking his head, “You know that’s not true.”

Will feels as if the floor beneath his feet has given way. He gapes at Jack, actually meeting his gaze for once because he needs to check for any sign that this is a cruel joke. The only thing he can read on his boss’s face is amusement, the dismissive sort that he saw back when he tried to argue against the name of the Evil Minds Museum.

“I-It IS true, Jack,” Will says, straightening up, “There is absolutely no way he didn’t know about it!”

“What makes you so sure of that, Will?” Jack asks, and Will is certain that he almost rolled his eyes.

“My n-neurologist TOLD me!” he cries, “They said that my case was s-so advanced that there was no way it could have been missed!”

Jack shakes his head again. “How do you diagnose encephalitis?” he asks.

“They ran bloodwork and took an MRI of my head,” Will explains, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush, “The results were so incredibly obvious that they had me sent directly to the ER from there.”

Jack sighs. “Will, have you ever heard of a psychiatrist doing either of those things? Why would Hannibal run diagnostic tests on you?”

Will could cry from the relief. There’s the point of confusion, there’s the reason he isn’t being listened to. He can still make Jack understand. “Th-that’s the thing! He took me to a neurologist himself! They ran the tests on me there, and then told me that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me—!”

“Oh my god, Will, listen to yourself,” Jack cuts him off, gesturing for him to stop. “He took you to a neurologist because he was worried about you, and he happened to have picked a bad one. That’s not a crime.”

And the floor gives way once again. Will’s heart sinks. “You don’t understand, he was there while they ran the tests,” he tries to explain, but his resolve is withering. “I went to the second neurologist not even a week later; there’s no way I could go from having no visible brain swelling to swelling so severe that—”

“Will, I don’t want to hear any more about this,” Jack says harshly, “You’re accusing Hannibal of malicious malpractice, which I know he would never commit. You sound completely paranoid. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. Of course no one would side with him when holding his word against Hannibal’s. He exhales shakily and rubs his eyes under his glasses, dislodging them and setting them askew. “I’m better than I was,” he says in a quiet, tense voice.

“Maybe we’ll wait a few days before bringing you back into the field,” Jack says, probably thinking that’s an incredibly lenient and generous allowance. “And you really should go talk to Hannibal. He was worried about you.”

As Jack walks away, Will sighs and sinks down in the chair behind the desk. He needs to clear out of here within the next five minutes so the next professor can have it, which gives him a few moments to regather himself. His head still does not ache, but he doesn’t feel particularly okay.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time and notices a notification about a new email. Another one from Hannibal. “Abigail Told Me You’re Feeling Better,” says the subject line. He deletes it without opening it.

Hannibal is not used to feeling snubbed. People do not blow him off, not without sending extravagant apologies and extensive explanations for what held them up. It’s basic courtesy to inform someone when you will be unable to make a meeting you scheduled with them. And Hannibal takes care to surround himself with the sort of people who would provide him with that basic courtesy.

And yet, he finds himself staring at his email inbox, awaiting a response that refuses to come. He checks his sent folder one more time, just to make sure that his message went through. It certainly did. So did the countless others he has sent—to Will’s normal email, to his school email, to several email addresses belonging to William Grahams he has never met—just in case Will neglected to inform him of an address change.

By all accounts, this should simply annoy him. He should write Will off as not worth bothering with, perhaps tuck his name into his rolodex, and move on with his life. But that does not feel like an appropriate reaction to this, for reasons he cannot fathom.

He phones Abigail, because he is not sure what else to do. She sounds slightly out of breath when she picks up.

“Abigail? Are you doing something?” he asks, momentarily distracted from his distress.

“Yeah, I’m packing up my stuff,” she says, “They’re talking about releasing me, remember?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, tapping his fingers on the polished surface of his desk, “Have you given any further thought to my offer?”

She sighs, and he can easily picture her rolling her eyes. “Yes, Hannibal, I have,” she says, “And it’s still an ‘I’m not sure.’” She pauses, and he lets her take her time to before continuing her thought. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, I’m just… not sure that’s what I want yet.”

“Well, don’t hesitate to tell me if you do come to a decision,” he tells her warmly, “There is always a space for you in my home.”

“I know, I know,” she says, warmth clear in her own voice. Then, she clears her throat. “But that’s not what you phoned about, right?”

“Yes, you’re correct,” he says, and he is about to explain his true intentions, but she beats him to it.

“Is it about Will?”

“Oh, clever girl,” he says, chuckling.

“Not really. Anyone could’ve guessed that.”

He doesn’t think that’s true, but does not press her on it. “I just wanted to make sure that Will did not use an unusual email address to contact you,” he says, refreshing his inbox one more time. “He still has not responded to me.”

“No, it was just his normal one I’m pretty sure,” she says, “I did text him though. Maybe you should try that.”

“I have left him voicemails on both his cellphone and his work phone. I cannot imagine him responding to me in text if he would not phone me.”

“It was just a suggestion.” She pauses again. “Do you have any idea why he’s ignoring you?”

Hannibal lets out the smallest of sighs. He has given that matter quite a bit of thought and has found it difficult to come up with reasonable explanations. Assumedly, Will’s sick leave is somehow connected to his encephalitis. In fact, after he had missed his third consecutive appointment, Hannibal began to wonder if he had been gravely injured as a result of his sleepwalking, or if he had seized at an inopportune moment. But then he heard from both Jack and Alana that they had been told he was away on a nonspecific sick leave, and his worst worries were assuaged. That left behind confusion, which has only grown worse as Will refuses to acknowledge him.

“I’m afraid not,” he says, the tapping of his fingers gaining speed. “I would appreciate it very much if you would tell him that I am worried about him.”

“Sure, I can do that,” she says.

“Who are you talking to, Abigail?” asks a familiar voice from the background.

“Hannibal,” she says, her voice changing tones as she speaks away from the receiver. It returns to normal when she explains, “Sorry, Alana is here helping me pack.”

“Not a problem at all,” he assures. “Please do tell her that I appreciate her helping you.”

“I can ask her about Will for you if you want,” Abigail offers.

Hannibal’s heart jumps at the thought, but he purses his lips and says, “I think it would be better if I spoke to her about that myself.”

“Do you want me to put her on?”

“Actually, yes, if she wouldn’t mind, I would appreciate that very much.”

“Okay,” Abigail chirps, and then he hears only the sound of movement for a few moments.

“Hey, Hannibal,” Alana says after the phone has changed hands. “What did you want to know about Will? I haven’t gotten the chance to speak with him yet, so I don’t have much to tell you.”

“Straight to the point, I see?” he remarks.

“Well, we are in the middle of something,” Alana reminds him, “Not that I mind talking to you, because I don’t. But I think we probably shouldn’t waste too much time.”

“That is certainly reasonable.” He picks up a pen from his desk and twiddles it between his fingers, leaning back in his chair. “I wanted to ask you if Will had used an unusual email address to contact you.”

“No, he didn’t. Why?” she asks, confused.

“Because he has yet to respond to any of my attempts at contacting him,” Hannibal says with a sigh, watching light glint off the pen’s metal body as he fiddles with it.

The confusion in her tone becomes more pronounced. “What? Really? Why would he not?”

“I was hoping you might be able to help me figure that out.”

She hums thoughtfully. “I suppose I could try to get ahold of him tomorrow? He should be in teaching as far as I know.” A thought seems to occur to her suddenly, and she adds, “Why don’t you ask Jack? He might have seen Will today.”

Hannibal frowns and sits up a little straighter. “You mean to tell me that he went in to work today?” he asks.

“As far as I know, yes,” Alana says, “He cares about his students, so I can’t imagine that he wouldn’t have.”

“I see,” he says, setting the pen back down. He finds himself hurt by the implication. Will cares about his students, and so he would return to them at first opportunity. He refreshes his inbox yet again.

“I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow,” Alana promises.

“Thank you, Alana,” Hannibal sighs, and they both hang up.

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