Quest'ansia mi toglie il fiato divorandomi dentro,
consumandomi un po' la volta,
è sfiancante.
- romyy999
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Quest'ansia mi toglie il fiato divorandomi dentro,
consumandomi un po' la volta,
è sfiancante.
- romyy999
i tuoi occhi parlano
non consumarli per chi non li ascolta.
Qui, insieme a te, mi lascerei consumare dal tempo.
- Virgilio, Bucoliche, Ecloga X
Ti faccio ridere, lo so, ma è solo per distrarre entrambi dal vuoto che mi consuma quando non ci sei
non permettere a niente e nessuno di consumarti
Showing up to the morgue was never a thing Mulder looked forward to.
It was an unfortunate part of his job, but sometimes the only way he could get answers was from the lips of the dead. Well, Scully did a lot of the interpretation. She did incredible work, a task that he could never undertake himself (no pun intended) and admired her stoicism when elbow deep in a chest cavity.
Once again, Agent Mulder found him self waiting very impatiently for his friend and colleague to arrive. The cadaver lay motionless on the examination table, and Mulder inwardly thanked whoever may be listening that he and Scully never had to deal with zombies. He hoped that would be a sentiment that remained true. To think he would have to deal with the psychological ramifications of perceiving the undead? The afterlife? No thanks!
Footsteps approaching relieved him of his bizarre mental spiral, and the agent quickly turned to greet the person he thought was his partner.
"Jeez Scully," he said, a tone of playfulness hanging from his words to disguise his apprehension, "I was worried I was about to get stood up for our date- ..." Hazel eyes met chest instead of face, and instantly Mulder knew that Dana Scully was not the one entering the room. His gaze lifted, staring at the second stranger now keeping him company.
@consumare
" 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 , " he's fingering through the this and that in his toolbox , metallic and muted murmurings of a displaced wrench knocking against another , slimmer , and not what he needs . he gestures with a distracted toss of his hand in a halfhearted , rounded loll about the room, the bookshelves packed tightly with hardbacks too numerous to count --- tasks it again with digging about the slim drawers , " does it take a guy to amass a collection like this . much less read it all , huh . "
@consumare // sc
❝ i don’t like the way they keep staring at you. ❞ + [ HOLD ] for one muse to slide their arm around the other in a possessive way. - will. // @consumare
"who?" will asks, at first genuine, and then recalling the conversation he'd just had with a gentleman. tonight, he had allowed hannibal to coax him into attending the opening event of a local gallery and the art was— fine, he supposed, but it wasn't enough to keep him particularly entertained. hannibal had stepped away for a moment to fetch more champagne and when he came back, will was being chatted up by a man in suit and tie.
the man was important, or so will gathers from the way he holds himself and the many accolades he weaved into their conversation. will has already archived every detail about him, left there in the recesses of his mind to begin collecting dust. but the stranger can hold his own in a bit of banter, which is more than will expects from most. more delicious, it's fascinating to watch people bend themselves into the strangest of shapes in an attempt to keep his attention. but of course, hannibal wouldn't see it quite that way.
will lets a moment of silence drag on before glancing to the stranger again, finding his face smiling back at him through the crowd. it's uncomfortable, though he redirects his attention easily to the painting in front of his husband. "he must know that we're together." his tone is deeply bored, but he holds a quiet of curiosity for how far hannibal's possession goes. "it just doesn't seem like he cares..." a plain remark as he sips his flute of champagne.