That’s A Lie; Hannibal Lecter Is A Punk Bitch

.....

one time i was having really bad cramps and i told will it was like being stabbed in the stomach by a sharp pointy knife.   he threw his hands in the air and shouted “HM I WONDER WHAT THAT WOULD FEEL LIKE?  BECAUSE I DEFINITELY DIDN’T HAVE MY GUTS RIPPED OPEN BY A SERIAL KILLER OR ANYTHING!” and stormed out of the room.

"You have too many kinds of oil; how was I supposed to figure that out? Olive oil, extra virgin olive oil, canola oil, coconut oil...this is excessive."

// procrastination blogging // [runsonfear]: "What would you have had me do, exactly?"

“For starters you could have put oil on the pan so it wouldn’t stick.

Careless.”

“Hey, hey, hey: what's said in bed is like what happens in Vegas.”

// procrastination blogging // [runsonfear]: "What would you have had me do, exactly?"

“For starters you could have put oil on the pan so it wouldn’t stick.

Careless.”

// @drhanniballecter and I have been constructing Will's phone.

This isn’t really that yellow but I took this picture and I’m 110% proud of it

"Your own fault for insisting on making this a cooking lesson...again. I know I can deal with me, myself, and I alone tonight; your track record isn't so great there."

// procrastination blogging // [runsonfear]: "What would you have had me do, exactly?"

“For starters you could have put oil on the pan so it wouldn’t stick.

Careless.”

Who told u

Head cannon that Will is a secret Backstreet Boys fan.

He also unironically listens to Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up

Wax poetical about art, and Will would usually sink beneath the surface of an inward stream to drown you out.  But it was a curious sensation to have someone come so close to the mark; like his intentions were being torn out from within him and placed under a microscope.  He felt simultaneously exposed and invigorated.

“Schrodinger's Painting.  Well, hell...”  Will rubbed his lower lip with his middle finger to suppress a smile - unsuccessfully.

He took Dr. Lecter’s hand and shook it, let himself glimpse the man’s eyes; he was intrigued by the color, and memorized the points of light in them for later reference.  The rest was admiration, and then...not much before the veneer of polite social grace.  Very different...

“You certainly see a lot, doctor.”  He said,  “I’m Graham, Will.  I don’t know if you saw my name on the brochure...”  He turned back to his painting, then back to Dr. Lecter.  “This one’s actually mine.  I wanted to know what you saw; you seemed enamored.”

“Can’t say I’m disappointed.”  He let himself smile this time.

Never Paint Dreams or Nightmares │runsonfear

Hannibal looked over at the man who he instantly recognized to be Will Graham, he didn’t comment on the recognition.  

Looking back over at the painting and clearing his throat, he spoke.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, does it?” He said with a small smile.

“Or it could mean everything. That’s what is so special about art. The artist’s intentions don’t matter when it hits the public’s eye. I could look at this and see nothing, while another man might look at be reminded of the tragic death of his children… and another might see, in it’s strokes, a vision of his own death, or future becoming. 

Every painting, despite the intentions, both simultaneously means everything and nothing at all. I would compare it to Schrodinger’s Cat… Or for this, Schrodinger’s Painting. 

But as far as intentions, I think it might be just that. The meaning is that there is no meaning, other than what we decide to project on to it, which is neither accurate nor inaccurate.”

His smile grew a bit wider and warmer as he held out his hand to the other man. 

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.” He introduced.

ALL-IN-ONE: BLUSH

Live Preview Code: Pastebin

This page combines your about, ask, tags, links, blogroll and FAQ pages in one! In Customize, add a Custom Layout page and enter the coding there.

Everything must be edited manually. CSS knowledge is helpful.