side blog to @zmogedra . hannibal multi - muse featuring : jack & bella crawford. alana bloom. clarice starling. bedelia du maurier + more as i see fit. primarily iconless. 21+ only. triggering themes apply
trying on a metaphor
todays bird

oozey mess
Claire Keane
occasionally subtle
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
will byers stan first human second
DEAR READER
KIROKAZE

Origami Around
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

ellievsbear

JBB: An Artblog!
d e v o n

@theartofmadeline

⁂

shark vs the universe
styofa doing anything

Kiana Khansmith

seen from United States

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seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from Lithuania
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Türkiye
seen from Tunisia

seen from Tunisia
seen from United States
seen from United States
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@beastsbelly
side blog to @zmogedra . hannibal multi - muse featuring : jack & bella crawford. alana bloom. clarice starling. bedelia du maurier + more as i see fit. primarily iconless. 21+ only. triggering themes apply
[ . . . ] sing little bird in your golden cage ; do you sing cause your happy, or sing out of rage?
so this is what it feels like. jack's office feels looming, and enclosed; like the walls might cave in at any moment and trap her there. a bird - cage. they hold the whispers of things she had only read about. could only speculate. how many conversations never to be repeated were said here? how many elaborate criminal minds were caught by the people who walked through that door? the remnants of her letter are still fresh in clarice's mind. in the rigors of training, they can't be far away. not when the rate of success of people from the moment they apply to quanitico and end up there is no more than three percent. and from those, less than half will graduate. she does well : asks the right questions [ possibly too many ], listens, pushes, bears her teeth. but it doesn't quite explain why she's here. ❝ sir? ❞ standing by @jcrwford's desk, her posture is almost rigid; confusion warring with uncertainty. ❝ i was told you asked t'see me, but my instructor didn't tell me why. if i've done somethin' wrong, i'd prefer t'get right to it. ❞
each day, it gets a little bit harder. it's not a surprise : even if she didn't have first hand experience than this, the doctors were very thorough. still -- she feels mostly like herself. bella knows that will be a temporary feeling, but while it's still there, while it's the majority of everything she feels . . . it's enough. for now. the thought of what comes after is too much to bear, though it lingers like a storm cloud on the horizon. it can't be ignored, but while things are good, bella doesn't want it to destroy what she has. what they have, despite her initial attempts to pull away. to hide. when has jack ever let her hide anything? she turns on her side. not away from him, but to him, as she watches @jcrwford move around the room, the weight of the day still settled upon his shoulders. the spot next to her is open, empty, and she welcomes him into it; gently patting on the mattress with a soft, fond smile. ❝ lay with me? ❞
bedelia knows she's not alone as soon as she steps into the room -- jimmy choo's quiet against the tiled floor, with keys jingling faintly as they're hung up. the front door behind her, locks. finality. the air is warm, with a brewing storm that crackles against her skin. wherein at first she almost suspects to scent something dark, and tempting; hints of vanilla and spice. what instead invades her senses is something . . . cheap. wrong. seawater and leather, but the balance is wrong. too strong, too salty. it chokes, like a wave pulling you under, without any of the euphoria of one's last breath. she does not rush to greet her visitor. in fact, she quite takes her time; going to the kitchen to grab two tumblers. in her parlor, where @mpathesia is, there is a vintage bottle of whisky she makes her way to, and opens. shadows still dance across the room, flitting between breaks of moonlight. ❝ hello, will. would you care for a glass? ❞
it doesn't escape alana's notice that the institution abigail is being kept in for her recovery -- is just as much about protecting her from the outside as it is keeping her away from it. jack's mistrust runs deep; thicker than blood than seeps from an open wound. and that's precisely what this is for him. a gaping, oozing wound that even with the death of garret jacob hobbs is still draining it's infection. he's looking for something, but all alana can bring herself to see is someone lost. hiding, but given the nature of what happened : how can anyone blame her?
head shaking faintly, she smiles as her eyes fall upon @shrikebait ; bags in hand as her knuckles rap on the open door. ❝ i brought you some more things. figured you can't keep wearing the same things over and over, right? ❞
like for a starter -- specify for which muse(s).