The Problem With Art, Will Always Thought, Is That The Success Of Any Artist Is Based Entirely Upon Being

“I wonder what Freud would think of that.”  Will thought Freud would probably assume impotence.  He considered saying so, but bit his cheek instead.  “I used to dream of...well, everything.  No meaning, no recognizable scenario.  Just an endless blur.”

“Now I just dream of work.”

// remember that time i made a will blog for the express purpose of rp-ing with your hannibal and then i completely forgot about it? haha yeah... // [runsonfear]: "Dream analysis is a load of bull and you know that."

“Not entirely. It was Freud who really developed and popularized dream analysis, and while he was wrong about…most everything, we can still use some of what he preached. Analyzing dreams can help to uncover what may be lying at the root of your problems.

Tell me about your dreams, Will.”

Under the cut are 120 100x100 gif icons of Hugh Dancy as Will Graham and in interviews. All made by me. A gift for the always wonderful xwolflikemex. Free to use but please don’t steal!

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Which head or yours is doing the thinking right now?  The big one or the little one?

Try again.

You don’t.

Your standards were set when you displayed Randall as you did.

I’m not your standard, I’m your goal.

Lust burns inside you, I can hear it soaking your words.

Well, Will thought, it's a helluva 'how do you do,' and a lot more concise.

Swept up in the passion of the moment, Will followed for a few heartbeats. He let his mouth and body be moulded to Hannibal's will, his tongue and hands. With a moan, he began to push back; his grip a little more forceful and his teeth a little more biting. He clutched Hannibal's scalp in his fingers and kissed like he'd damn well die if they stopped.

// lil smth smth for the lulz // [runsonfear]: "I want the K"

Send me I want the K and I’ll generate a number; 21: Then there’s tongue

Hannibal grabbed Will rather forcefully, with one arm wrapped around his back, and pulled him into a kiss. Hannibal parted his lips slightly and let his tongue gently outline Will’s lip. Not even waiting to see if Will would reciprocate in the lip parting, he pushed his tongue past Will’s lips and into his mouth, finding the younger man’s tongue and running his across it. 

Will nodded and let his head hang down for a bit.  It’d be nice if the answer to that last question was on Will’s shoes, but it wasn’t.  He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Not rightly.”  He had a smile cracking sheepish on his face, and it made him feel even more loony.  “Guess I felt like a visit.”

“You didn’t.” Okay, not sleep walking then. Hannibal took a deep breath in and smelled the very distinct scent of alcohol. At least there was a reasonable explanation. 

“Are you aware you’re standing outside my house? Do you know what brought you here?” 

Reblog this if you slept with my ex-wife Susan.

Trying to prove a point to my divorce lawyer.

Will curled his fingers into the blanket, the softness of it seeping through the numb in his skin.  He watched Hannibal’s back as his host got the coffee going.

He was beginning to feel bleary.  The whites in the kitchen were melding into blobs of light in his vision. “No.  What time is it?”  He took the coffee with a ‘thank you’ and took a sip.  Damn miraculous, that coffee.

Once inside, Hannibal found a throw blanket for Will and placed it around his shoulders before starting on coffee.

“Do you know how long you were standing out there for? Your hands look as though they were beginning to turn blue.”  He doesn’t ask Will how he takes his coffee, but took the liberty of adding a single teaspoon of sugar before handing it to him. 

Butterfly, 1942. From the Budapest Municipal Photography Company archive.

Plate XIII.

British Butterflies. 1860.

Internet Archive

Whiskey. "Coffee's fine." The cold bit as soon as mentioned; he puffed air out between his lips and could see his breath.

He let Hannibal lead him wherever. The hand on his shoulder gave him something to focus on for a while.

Will nodded and let his head hang down for a bit.  It’d be nice if the answer to that last question was on Will’s shoes, but it wasn’t.  He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Not rightly.”  He had a smile cracking sheepish on his face, and it made him feel even more loony.  “Guess I felt like a visit.”