#hannibalholiday

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Happy Hannibal Holidays, @sergeantabraham! Here’s your @hannibalholiday gift featuring Will Graham, antlers, and blood. 

[carrioncrowned-blog]

A happy Murder Family Christmas to @ishipthemsogoddamnhard for the @hannibalholiday Exchange!

I had a lot of fun with your prompt and giftee specifics, and I hope you enjoy the result and have a very magical, cannibalism-free holiday season <3 

Thank you to the mods for organizing this, you’ve done an excellent job! 

[fionnapancake666]

Moments by pancakeispeople :: A life is made from moments; Not all of them matter, but some evidently do. :: XD Let there be motorcycles and Hannigram fluff XD :: A gift fic to @eveninginwithyourgirlfriend for the Hannibal Holiday  @hannibalholiday Exchange :D READ ON AO3 HERE

[nonexistenz]

Hannibal knew that being with Will would mean having a bunch of dogs around, and while this would take some time getting used to, he would gladly accept that for the bliss of having Will's presence by his side. However, what he didn't expect was that their animal companions ended up being an army of cats instead. An even bigger surprise was him liking all of them and letting them do as they pleased. Then again, he liked to sleep pressed as close as possible to Will anyway.

Pinch-hit for the @hannibalholiday Gift Exchange 2017

Gift for @linky-lonk

Dear Lincoln, sorry this is late, I underestimated how long this would take me and I wanted to try my best drawing you this, even if it's a pinch-hit. Hope you like it at least a little bit and had great holidays and a good start into the new year! <3

[the-winnowing-wind]

Four Kisses that weren’t, and the one that was.

DEER @a-fuck-it-kind-of-lifestyle, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FIC (AND ITS FLUFFY MARLANA PART 2) FOR @hannibalholiday!!!! Forgive me, for I have not written in a while, but very much enjoyed making this gift!!!! <3333 (Note: the ending could be taken as tragedy, or not! I leave it up to you :3)

Four Kisses that weren’t, and the one that was.

It’s Beautiful.

Will’s fingers clutch into fabric, pull harder, yank, in his mind, yank, in reality, everything is soft, he’s leaning in. The blood drips along them, black, black in the moonlight, but he doesn’t remember it’s there. Everything has silenced in this moment, the vacuum in the wake of explosion, he can’t taste the iron on his lips, nor feel cold on his skin, (the cold of snow, of shock, of death), nor hear the roaring ocean. (So close, the roaring ocean.) Only Hannibal’s breaths cut through him sharp, he yanks, sharp, but his fingers are soft.

He follows the breaths, watches the lips that make them, the lungs that move them, he can see Hannibal in this moment, as clearly as Hannibal has always seen him. Pliant beneath his fingers, caught like the air pushing out of him, harshing through his teeth, caught, Will’s, harsh, soft, and Will watches his mouth.

I could kiss him. The thought curves somewhere through the tunnel vision of his plans, it twists primal (consummation, kill, mine) and quiet (you and I have begun to blur.) But maybe, if he kisses Hannibal, in this moment, he’ll take a tumble he hasn’t intended on. And it’s very important they go the right the way. The only way.

So he listens to the refrain, I could kiss him, kiss, could, him, I could, and lays his head down, the breaths startling, stopping, leaping, (humor, wry, stolen breath, one way or the other) closes his eyes. 

He doesn’t kiss him and they fall.

Time passes.

They wake, improbably alive, on a frozen beach. Hannibal’s pain is rife along the edges of his body, a raw wound that he’s not bothering to hide, because he’s tired, maybe, because he wants Will to see it, maybe, the blood seeping sluggish out of him. It’s not the moon on the cliff, it’s not charming or romantic or storied. It’s cold, freezing, freezing cold, it’s cold, and there’s pain, and the white-bright daylight of clouds that paints everything drab.

He’d intended a gesture, of sorts. Can’t live with him, can’t live without him, can’t live at all. Hannibal would appreciate it, would see the lines of poetry, the fitting end, he’d given them both everything they wanted and snuffed it out in a big dramatic gesture. Hadn’t he learned how to do that from the best?

This was not what he’d intended. Frozen rocks, half deaths, stutters of ugly pain.

Hannibal hums next to him as the thoughts echo around in his head, there’s no anger seeping off him, and Will won’t apologize, Hannibal should be able to see, he thinks he sees so clearly all the time, should be able to understand. It should have been perfect, but they never to do successfully manage, when it comes to one another.

And when, with effort, the other parts his lips, voice low, bruised and murmurs. It was a lovely attempt, Will thinks maybe he could kiss him.

Time passes.

In a small room, on a small boat, he creeps into Hannibal’s bed.

The tension between them is terrible (wonderful), but though they spend every waking hour together, he suddenly finds parting for sleep to be too much.

Hannibal doesn’t shift but his breathing collapses, as it always does, and his eyes are open, watching carefully the sky through the small window on the wall. Will is silent too.

He’s mad at Hannibal still, all the time, that they fit so well together, that they’ve blurred so far it becomes more of a struggle to be seperate every passing day, he’s mad at himself, for craving so much, for fighting so much, but still, he creeps into Hannibal’s bed and presses their bodies closer, wraps an around his waist.

His lips find skin, inadvertently, maybe, inadvertently, but he closes his eyes and reaches for sleep instead of more.

Time passes.

A bloody palm to Hannibal’s cheek, inhale, exhale, he watches closely. Triumph and adrenaline are surging through his veins, blood pumps blood, higher and higher. The flicker of uncertainty, of unhappiness, of question is there, it’s there and it flickers, but he’s trying ignoring it on for size.

The man was guilty.

The man was bad.

And he had been jury, judge and executioner, or maybe he’d just been an artist, the instrument of fate, he’d changed the man’s ugly existence, reformed his life and the world, by proxy, and made it better. He can see that too, from his height, from the perch of the gods. The flicker flickers, but it doesn’t conflagrate - he quells it lower with a tightening of fingers.

He leans in, they breathe together, but he doesn’t kiss Hannibal and Hannibal doesn’t kiss him.

“Shall we?” He murmurs instead, statement posed as question.

They cross silently into the kitchen.

Time passes.

There’s a gun on them, a fierce young woman with determined eyes and an accent which pulls familiar at Will aiming for Hannibal’s heart, but it seems now inappropriate to wait any longer.

He slides a hand through Hannibal’s hair, apology, maybe, contentment, mostly and brings their lips together finally.

In his mind, he kisses Hannibal in his office, disheveled, fear for Will in his eyes, kisses him with a knife sharp to his gut, kisses him with something sharper at his temple, kisses him in his home (old home, lost home), before telling him to go, kisses him in prison and on a cliffside, on a cold beach, and a warm one, in a boat, after a kill, over and over, always.

Time reverses and teacups come together. He kisses Hannibal and has always kissed him, will always.

He kisses him and they fall.

(Fluffy Marlana Edition here: The Kiss That Was)

[jayska-nxl]

My gift for @hannibalholiday to the wonderful @mxpopsiclestix! Merry Christmas!! Scene taken from mizumono (I just love this scene so much), backdrop text is the plot of Red Dragon. All done manually in a word document, just to add to the Christmas giving feeling, hope you like it!

(Click for HD quality)

[kirtlandswarbler]

beginning | middle | end

for @jackalope-in-glasses​! Merry Christmas and a very happy new year! Part of the HannibalHoliday Exchange 2017 @hannibalholiday

[jollyjet]

HannibalHoliday Exchange 2017

Will wandering around the office, contemplating the pricey things over the office while Hannibal is finding a book on the book shelves. Hannibal truly has a talented taste in art. Will’s always amazed by everything Hannibal bring to him, either in his psychiatrist-patient and their personal relationships. Hannibal is passionate, everything he creates is all artful. Will once saw his drawing, the amount of details is incredible exact to the human anatomy. Now he could feel the urge to enjoy those drawing again, he gradually come near the table that he already know that Hannibal always puts his drawing there. Slowly he lifts the top paper covering the drawing over. A sketch of a building seems to be designed in the gothic way appears, he admires the details Hannibal put attention in, gorgeous, continue Will lifts that over, his eyes open wider, he was surprisingly amazed by the wonderful drawings of himself.

“Will”

“Hannibal, I... “

“So you saw that?”

“Yea- uhm... It’s so beautiful.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your compliment enormously.”

“Thank you.”

Will’s confused by Hannibal’s appearance. He doesn’t know what to do or say but to avoid Hannibal’s eyes contact.

“Will, you know. You’re incredibly beautiful, my drawings are nothing comparing to you.”

Hannibal begins to touch Will’s face delicately.

“Gorgeous.”

Will accepts Hannibal’s touch and begins to lean forward. Slowly their lips brush together. Hannibal secretly smiles when he feels the soft lips of Will.

“Merry Christmas, Will.”

“You too.”

HannibalHoliday Exchange 2017 of @hannibalholiday​ for @dread-pirate-westley enjoy your holiday ;_;