#svennibal

Because I made cupcakes, the earth’s gravitation shifted.

“It’s only been a few months, Alana.” Will shrugged a bit, tucking his scarf closer to his neck then feeling skin pull deep under the layers.

HANNIBAL ACCA HAS PERMISSION TO POST AND REBLOG THIS PIECE

Commissioner: queenofdessert

Written by: svennibal

Prompt: Will & Alana

*floats by in a blow up raft* Nice. Congrats! *tips over a waterfall*

*reaches over waterfall and grabs your hand* Hey you. 

This is the last spotlight post for June! We'll start them up again in July.

We also have more writers than artists this month, so this last post will feature the last of our writers. <3 

Writer Spotlight:

                                  - Hughhfancy -

They're on for all three months and have an account on Fanfiction.net under the name TheMockingJayTraitor. They've written pieces with titles such as

Slow Becoming

Will Graham and Alana Bloom

They don't have a specific maximum word count and they would like to avoid writing Hannigram. Work Snippet:  "Slow Becoming" -

Darkness had never been an ally of Will’s. He spent most of his time keeping his devils at bay, pretending they were not there. After all, when you live your whole life in the shadows, it’s easy to forget the darkness of your own self.

In order to catch Lecter, Will would need to become one with his darkness. He would need to allow his nature to trickle through his veins, blackening and hardening them like poison. It went against every sane thought in his mind - though there weren’t many of those anymore - to demonize himself. Becoming a devil was one thing, returning from that becoming was another.

Writer Spotlight:

                                     - Svennibal -

They're known on AO3 as Cannabis and are responsible for titles such as:

Prendre Les Devants

La Peureux De L'homme

Playing Chicken

They're on for all three months and are offering three works for each month. Keep in mind they're also an artist. They'll work on a fic with a word count maximum of 10,000 words. They have no preferences. Work Snippet: "La Peureux De L'homme" -

A small smile reached Hannibal's eyes and his gaze flicked across Will as he reflected these words in his mind. He leaned forward, elbows to knees and tested Will's view by aiming his own stare straight at Will's escape zone. After rolling his tongue over his lips as if tasting his words, he spoke. “Even if you are unlikely to admit it, the work you do is an art itself.” A faint snort escaped Will as he pulled his eyes toward Hannibal's desk, then to the bookshelves beyond that. He hadn't felt intruded on when their eyes locked, but he was still unwilling to look too deep into anyone who could in turn look back. There was a silence that followed his venture of words, not uncomfortable but aware.

  “What I do.” Will started, a short crack cutting into his voice. He swallowed. “Has nothing to do with art.” He stewed in his thoughts a few seconds, his eyes were resting on something over the desk and as a light came up in his eyes he leaned forward, and dropped his forehead into his left palm wearily. “This murderer, has nothing to do with art. He's just using it as a cop out. He's trying to be a show off.”

  “No other way to get attention but to make volatile attempts at being 'ultramodern'.” He leaned back in his chair again and examined all of Will as he took in the new information.

Writer Spotlight:

                                 - Sun-to-Sirius -

Known on AO3 as Whiskeyandspite, they're responsible for titles such as:

Omega Point

Ouroboros

Lure

They're on for all three months, though all their spots are filled for June. They're offering four pieces each month with  a word count up to 20,000 words. They don't like A/B/O, femslash, or crossdressing. They love writing Hannigram.  Work Snippet: "Lure" -

The praise is soft, accompanied by a gentle squeeze to Will’s hand before Hannibal takes it from the warm water and presses a soft towel to the raw skin. Will barely looks up.

Fishing. It was just fishing. Offering a live lure so tempting the uncatchable fish could do nothing but follow it, blind by its own desire and hunger for the conquest.

It’s making him ill. He’s growing tired. Will doesn’t eat unless his dogs whine to remind him they’re hungry, then he feeds them and allows himself something to fill the gaping void in his stomach. He never tastes the food. He rarely eats anything more than bread or fruit unless it’s at Hannibal’s table. There, he pretends to savor every bite and wonders who their meal had once been.

That’s exhausting too.

“You are following your instincts, Will.”

“Becoming someone other than myself.”

“Or, perhaps, the man you were meant to become.” Hannibal bends to check on the scrapes, to see if they need ointment or could be left to heal by drying on their own, and Will lets him.

The man on the table suddenly looks so much smaller, almost less than a man. A flesh doll.

Artist Spotlight:

                                      - Svennibal -

Originally known as Raizoru, they're on for all three months and are offering two works a month. Keep in mind they're also a writer!

You can view their art HERE on their tumblr. <3

Writer Spotlight:

                                - The-Winnowing-Wind -

Known on AO3 as 9_of_Clubs, they're responsible for fic titles such as:

So I Stayed In The Darkness With You

Persuasion

A Terrible Sort Of Yearning 

They're on for all three months and are offering 2-3 works a month. Their maximum word count for a piece is 7,000. They wouldn't like to write Alana, no bestiality, and when writing Hannigram, they like top!Will. 

Work Snippet: "A Terrible Sort of Yearning" -

He stares at it for one moment longer then accepts the call, brings it to his ear. Only silence greets the other end. He sighs into it, waiting for some unknown reason, another heartbeat and he’s spoken.

“Hello?” He murmurs into the phone, shifting to sit up, the quiet in the air around him thrums deafeningly in his ears. “Hello?” He says again, waiting.

He can make out faint sounds streaming in through the other end now, nothing discernible, the rush of wind or roar of water, but clearly another on the line, ad agency all but ruled out. He scrunches his face, tries to keep the waver out of his voice. “We’re not fourteen, Hannibal. You can’t just call and decide you’re too cowardly to say anything, you can’t -”