#cstarling

[spookyagentfmulder]

@cstarling liked for a sentence starter!

"Now what brings a pretty thing like you down to my shadowy little basement?"

[heuretourne-moved]

𝒊.    𓄄༘   ⊳ @cstarling .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆   𝐈𝐒   𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐈𝐍   𝐀   𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋   𝐎𝐅   𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃   𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.   Twitching   as   the   last   drops   of   life   are   so   cruelly   bled   from   its   heart,   disrupting   the   otherwise   stilled   surface   that   surrounds   it ...   ⸺   a   ripple   effect   that   interrupts   every living and decaying thing   (   even   in   its   dying   moments.   )   The   teacup   has   shattered.   𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋   𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐌   𝐇𝐀𝐒   𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃.   As   he   sinks   below   with   the   raven   -   feathered   stag,   he   hears   it   calling   ⸺   telling   him   to   wade   into   the   quiet   of   the   stream.   Drift,   with   all   your   broken   pieces.   (   ᴺᴼ   ) His   eyes   flutter   open   ﹠   he   is   gasping ...   the   sudden   intake   of   air   sending   a   sting   into   his   ribcage.   𝙸𝚂   𝙷𝙴   𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻   𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙶   ?      His   body   is   aching,   cradled   by   the   hospital   bed   beneath   him,   monitors   form   a   tower   -   like   structure   on   either   side   of   him,   ﹠   his   mind   …   slowly   but   surely,   his   mind   catches   up   with   the   present   moment.   The   hospital.   He’s   in   the   hospital.   Eyes   flitter   towards   a   wall   clock,   numbers   dripping   ﹠   sagging   as   his   vision   strained   to   adjust   to   the   harsh   fluorescents   above.   It   was   late.   The   man   glances   downwards   at   the   layers   of   gauze   protecting   his   abdomen   ﹠   the   memories   trickled   back   in   slowly   ⸺   feelings   of   betrayal   settled   in   his   stomach,   churning   itself   into   nausea   as   Will   scans   the   rest   of   the   room.   ❝   …   ᶜˡᵃʳᶦᶜᵉ   ?   ❞   he   whispers   out,   his   voice   is   hoarse   ⸺   rough.   Speaking   felt   like   swallowing   sandpaper.   She’s   nestled   in   the   corner   with   a   jacket   for   a   pillow,   dozing   like   she’d   been   there   for   hours.   (   …   𝑆𝐻𝐸   𝐻𝐴𝐷   𝐵𝐸𝐸𝑁   𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸   𝐹𝑂𝑅   𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑅𝑆.   )   

[aranostra]

@cstarling // i'm not usually this direct, but… what is wrong with you? - dennis rafkin, my beloved.

Dennis blinked at her, then laughed despite the chaos that was going on in his mind. This ghost was loud.

"So much. I wouldn't even know where to start. Just--" He flinched, putting his hand to his head. The wailing had started up again. Dennis wanted to shout back I'm the only one who can hear you, and I'm trying to do something about it. PLEASE STOP. But he knew this one was beyond listening to him.

When he spoke again, his voice was loud so he could hear himself. "Can you just take my word for it that someone died here, and it was bad. I know it probably looks like nothing happened here to you." He glanced around at the blood he could see splattered on the walls and soaked into the carpet. "They must've bleached the hell out of this place."

[zmogedra]

CLARICE STARLING : I KNOW OUR RELATIONSHIP IS SUPPOSED TO BE FAKE, BUT I CAN'T HELP WHAT I FEEL. / MEME.

there are candles burning around them. their smoke holds notes of sweetness; mingling beautifully with the subtle spices emanating from the hand - made soaps in use. before him, @cstarling is within the clawfoot bathtub -- faint steam coming off of the warm waters where it laps around her figure. her hair, soaked; and his fingers work the shampoo within the dark, thick strands diligently. the movements across her scalp are sure, and thorough, but his touch is undeniably gentle when it brushes over the delicate shell of her ears. those hands, which have caused pain; orchestrated theatrical slaughters and created grotesque art. hands that held no shortage of death at their finger tips, yet could treat her with such care.

with her leaning back against the porcelain tub, it affords him to the best vantage point to wash her hair. he starts at the scalp, and works the shampoo down to the ends until each section is completely saturated. in the other room, vivaldi's la verità in cimento plays on an old - fashioned record player. her words make his fingers pause momentarily, before he resumes; and lets out a low sigh. hannibal does not respond right away. instead, he reaches for the pitcher of clean water he set beside the tub, and carefully pours it over her head; washing away the shampoo's residue until the water runs clear. then, mollified between his hands, a thick moisturizing conditioner is applied to the wet strands.

❝   so tangled in your own perception of things, of how they should be based on your steadfast moral compass, you could not see things how they were.  ❞ he is not disappointed, nor angered. in fact, hannibal is not surprised at all -- by either side of the statement. if anything, he is pleased; knowing she has finally arrived to exactly where he desired her to be. again, clear water is poured, removing the conditioner, and leaving her hair silky and with a whispering fragrance that is gentle on the senses. his fingers trail from her scalp, down to her neck and shoulders; skittering over the skin there as he leans in. the scent of her hair, her skin, is clean. fresh. more alluring than that however, is her warmth; the scent of being alive, and in this moment [ irrefutably ] his.

❝   mio caro -- what precisely made you think it was ever a fiction? that we were not already entwined, in every other meaningful way?  ❞ it is then that he tilts her head back, exposing the vulnerable line of her lovely throat; hannibal's hands settle there, on her neck. the action is possessive, but not without adoration in the weight of it's presence.

❝   ti voglio bene. tell me what is it you feel. ❞

[shilohgreen]

@cstarling liked for a starter.

it's been a peaceful sort of day, both of them meandering through the hours, sometimes together, sometimes apart. here, with her in his arms, a book in his lap, he thinks a life full of simple nights like this could be enough for him. his nose presses to her temple and a kiss presses to her cheekbone.

"tell me what you want to do tomorrow." a gentle request. "the world is..." how could he possibly tell her? that when she speaks of tomorrow, he'll feel hope, courage? "it's more alive when i see it through your eyes."

[frightesa]

@cstarling

hands fish into his pockets. it takes charlie a moment as he rocked back on his heels. "we gotta give it up." he said. "the trial has run cold and we're no good to this case if we freeze out here." he was used to cool washington winters. seasons where the flakes billowed around them like a snow globe upturned. it was nearly ten and they should head back into town anyway. it was cold, and would only become colder in the coming days. there was a storm coming.

"you're shivering." charlie said. it only takes him a moment to slip off his jacket and offer it to the other agent. "i'll be all right ." he assured "there's a diner that's a little closer than the station. we could walk there to warm up, i've gotta charge this as well." he motioned to his flip phone before looking over at clarice. "if that sounds all right with you, that is."

[zmogedra]

❝   that man who left -- that . . . thing. what did he say under his breath, clarice? what vulgar words did he think he had any right to speak, let alone think?  ❞

                                STARTER / @cstarling

[klarsynt]

@cstarling sent: ❝ i’ve seen what ‘bad’ looks like. you’re one of the good ones, trust me. ❞

the words are delivered in a way which he knows is intended to be a salve to wounds she barely understands. but they assault his soul like acid to raw flesh. they come with the sting of wondering if she truly knew him, well and truly accounted for every sin, if she would still utter such confident assurances towards the nature of his character. lips part as if to speak. but he pauses, voice dying in his throat with a broken exhale. he cannot exactly share his ugly truths with her even if he so desired. instead he inquires, a hint of skepticism in hazel tinged gaze, ❝ what makes you so sure of that? ❞