Will's foundation was empathy. He thrived through his ability to understand others. Empathize with them. It was exactly what he was doing now with Hannibal; viewing the world through his shoes, through the complexity that was his mind. Most »
« people did not comprehend him, they did not see him in his true colors, their black and white imagination too bland to empathize with the man labeled cannibal. Although Will saw him past the superficial label plastered on him by a society who »
« believed he did not conform to expectations. He saw the insides of the man - pun intended - whereas most only saw his shadow or what what they called his 'person suit'.
He knew Hannibal. At least he wanted to. That's why it was so easy for him »
He knew Hannibal. At least he wanted to. That's why it was so easy for him »
« to lose himself in the other's mind, lose himself entirely until two became one. It was such a marvelous feeling and he knew Hannibal felt it to. The unquenchable intensity, the undeniable passion, the white blinding light of experiencing true »
« connection when you've never connected with a single person so vividly your entire life - truly insatiable. They thrived together, and to no surprise they survived together. Neither able to live without the other. They finally found each other »
« in death, or at least, their survival. And perhaps losing themselves within each other, which thereby lead to their attempted suicide, is how they found themselves inside each other. Perhaps committing their final crime - or at least their »
« last - they had finally come to terms with the fact that neither could exist so harmoniously if not for the other.
They needed their old self to die to be reborn.
Oh, and Will reveled in his rebirth. No question of sanity or insanity. What he »
They needed their old self to die to be reborn.
Oh, and Will reveled in his rebirth. No question of sanity or insanity. What he »
« was, a sinner or a saint, did no longer matter to the new him. As if he'd finally realize there was no fucking point in running from his primal urges, his insatiable desires. Or better yet spoken, desire, for he only yearned for one. That one »
« was Hannibal. To no bound. To no revelation. Falling of the edge of the cliff gave him the hit on the head he needed; we are all animals, he told himself, what's the point of attempting to trick ourselves into believing we're any better than »
« our darkest needs? He would do that no longer.
That's what this second chance of life was for, right? To mend his regrets. Oh, and did he regret not succumbing to the darkness sooner. It felt so good, so euphoric as he mewled so blissfully »
That's what this second chance of life was for, right? To mend his regrets. Oh, and did he regret not succumbing to the darkness sooner. It felt so good, so euphoric as he mewled so blissfully »
« against the delicate kiss. A kiss that tasted of sadness and regret, pain and discomfort, hatred and most importantly, helpless love. -- Everything he knew Hannibal lived for. Everything he now lived for. They needed it. It was only time that »
« they allowed themselves the satisfaction... and it was even more rapturous than imagined ... and Will has a vivid imagination.
The hand imbedded in his hair tells Will one predominant thing; Hannibal feels exactly the way he does. Although »
The hand imbedded in his hair tells Will one predominant thing; Hannibal feels exactly the way he does. Although »
« there is a slight hesitation birthing his movements, a hesitation Will appreciates, for he was a sucker for delaying the inevitable especially in such a glorious circumstance. Nonetheless, he does not miss why. He understands Hannibal's »
« reluctance to give into what they have done so well to hide. His fear of rejection was just as prominent within Will. But Will could not let this moment pass without receiving the one thing he craved more than a dehydrated man craved water; »
« the feel of Hannibal's salty, crusted lips meshing delightfully and painfully -- emotionally and even physically -- against his own. He therefore prompts eagerly to clear whatever air was left between them.
"Kiss me, Hannibal." It's not »
"Kiss me, Hannibal." It's not »
« impatience in his tone, simply selfish need.
His soul is empty, its content handed to Hannibal on a silver platter for him to bend to his will, steal if he so wished. And he did. And it could not have felt more good nor more bad for all the »
His soul is empty, its content handed to Hannibal on a silver platter for him to bend to his will, steal if he so wished. And he did. And it could not have felt more good nor more bad for all the »
« right fucking reasons. Will could only stir. Not in blandly labeled pleasure. What he felt was beyond words. Although there was no harm in trying to verbilize it, which is why Will stated,
"This is why we survived."
Who said all tragic love »
"This is why we survived."
Who said all tragic love »
« stories had the same ending as Romeo and Juliet?
