#dasmannlein

[storieswrittcnarch]

@das-mannlein​ sent your muse applying pressure to my muses bleeding wound. (works either way, for Will

They’re both injured, it seems, but only one of them seems far worse than the other. It’s a wonder they’d managed to survive a fall like that and here they are, licking their wounds, when Will’s intent had been to kill them both.

Funny how life works. He could easily just leave Hannibal to tend to his wounds, or die, but there is something within the former profiler that tells him not to. A part of him that knows he needs Hannibal now that his plan had failed miserably.

They’re both killers. Both have this darkness inside of them, it’s always been there - lurking under the surface, waiting to come out. Or rather, waiting to be pushed out. Finally, he has cracked, and the looming darkness has spilled out of those cracks.

There is no going back now.

Which is why he’s sitting here, allowing Hannibal to tend to his wounds. It is nothing serious, luckily, but it’s enough that the bleeding needs to be stopped. No major veins or organs have been damaged but it is a rather large gash upon his forhead that probably needs stitches.

The rest of his body seems okay, albeit covered in bruises. Eyes trail over Hannibal’s form to silently assess his wounds, too. Nothing too grave, it seems.

“I don’t need your help.” Yet, he allows the other to do exactly that. “I’m fine.” But, oh, he is too tired to shove Hannibal away. Tired of fighting, tired of it all. Where do they go from here?

[blessedxsilence]

Continued from here for @das-mannlein​

Starling groaned in frustration, “Pazzi didn’t sell you out to Interpol,” She informed him. “He sold you to the Vergers. They have professionals coming for you, do you understand? A whole team of them, and it’s likely you won’t even see them coming.” She struggled to get the keys in her ignition, planning on heading straight to Crawford’s office to tear him a new asshole.

“You need to get out of Florence tonight. Their jet’s already left, they’ll be there by morning.”

[welcomeoblivicn]

last time, on hannibal @das-mannlein​

“In your own home?” Responding with humor as he often does when he isn’t sure how to react. He knows it’s not what Hannibal means but lounging nude on the bed, sprawled and sated, Will hadn’t expected the question. 

Without his glasses on Hannibal is a blur rendering body language difficult to read, but Will can feel the change in the air around them.

“Of course you haven’t overstayed your welcome,” he says, serious this time. Hannibal seems almost... melancholy. Will knows it isn’t the post-coital glow causing the tender swell of warmth in his chest at the realization. Still he hesitates; certain Hannibal wouldn’t appreciate any fussing over him. But he doesn’t want to just let that comment linger.

He sits up, watching Hannibal with curious eyes. “...Are you okay?”

[blessedxsilence]

@das-mannlein

The corridor through which Clarus walked towards the gate was crowded, hot. A new batch of captured slaves and prisoners lined the way, awaiting their fates. Some would be given the chance to fight, to become ludi and grasp at some semblance of honor, some would be sold before the day’s end to serve in the high households. Some were slotted for execution, and these were the ones she studied through the eyes of her mask as she passed them. She memorized their faces, though it would not do much good once her performance started.

Those that could parted the way for her. She heard curious whispers as to who she was, from those that would not know. Why did these massive men move aside for her? Who is she? And the occasional It is unbecoming for women to partake in these games. She took note of whomever uttered the latter. Clarus reached the area behind the gate, a slave woman putting the bow and quiver of arrows in her hands. 

She prepared as the event was announced, steeling herself with a heavy breath just before the gates opened and she strode through into the open arena. She raised her bow as the crowd cheered for her appearance, and they quieted as she lowered it. Moving with purpose, she stepped up onto the platform they had provided and knelt in the direction of the Emperor’s box before taking her position.

Someone put a piece of cloth over the eyes of her mask. She listened as the prisoners were brought out, their chains undone. The guard that escorted them explained what it was they were to do as strung bracelets of tin rings were placed on their wrists. The crowd was instructed to keep as silent as possible until it was done. A horn blew, and she drew her first arrow, knocking it and pulling tight. Her ears picked up the sound of the rings jingling as one of the prisoners ran. She aimed and released, hearing his death rattle. There were sharp gasps from the crowd, panicked noises from the prisoners. Beneath the mask a smirk pulled at her lips before she knocked another arrow.

Beneath her breath she counted them off as they fell.

[blessedxsilence]

continued from here for @das-mannlein​

Starling lay on the bed, watching him sketch. “I don’t consider either of us to be foolish, though that may very well prove that it’s me, if there has to be one.” She sighed, “If you were going to hurt me, or kill me, or eat me, you would have done it already. You’ve passed over plenty of times it would have been prudent or convenient, just like I’ve passed plenty of opportunities to leave.” 

She smirked, “Maybe it’s better you don’t accept that I want to be here. I mean, you might risk losing that grim look on your face if you allow yourself to be happy about it.”

[intuitkiller]

@das-mannlein​ asked: “🏆 This is the Amazing Person Award 🏆 ✨💚 Once you are given this award you are supposed to paste it in the ask of eight different people, who, in your opinion, deserve it. If you break the chain nothing will happen, but it is sweet to know someone thinks you’re amazing inside and out 💚”         meme: random asks are the best // status: still accepting

excuse you! you cannot leave this here because you deserve it too!

[intuitkiller]

@das-mannlein​ asked: “ What drew you to my blog initially, and what, so far, has made you stay? "Book Based" drew me here, your writing style has made me stay- looking forward to more interactions. “         meme: what brought you, what made you stay? // status: always accepting

aoiwnio! book based will is a babu i adore &&. wanted other to love! i’m so happy that drew you in, honestly! &&. gosh! thank you for that!you’re writing is great, amazing even. i’m looking forward to more interactions with you as well!

[gvnpcwdr]

@das-mannlein​ // HANNIBAL LECTER. 

FEET POUND THE GROUND WITH EVERY STRIDE as she runs throughout the trail. Her heart pounds in her chest, rampant like birds trapped in a cage they wished not to be in. Much like Starling was, trapped in a particularly bad odour --- as Lecter put it --- with the FBI. John Brigham was dead, and her reputation with the Bureau is stained by the blood of Evelda Drumgo, by the trashy tabloids who would pay good money to get as much material on the agent as possible. 

She runs, not only to stay in shape, but in order to somehow quell the chaos around her, to escape her own misgivings, if only just for a while. As she runs, she feels eyes on her, as if someone was, perchance coveting her. Sweat dripped hair whips around, hitting her cheek as she turns to look behind her but she does not stop running not quite yet. No one was there - no one that she could see, at least. But this did not soothe her all too nagging feeling, the one that rises from deep within her gut; the one that tells her she’s not alone. Looking ahead once more, she continues to run, picking up her pace a bit. Muscles scream as she moves, but she welcomes it.

 And then, she swears she hears footsteps that are not her own; somewhere amidst the sound of wildlife, squirrels scurrying and insects chirping. Something familiar tugs at her, something she cannot seem to shake, or keep from the forefront of her mind. No matter how much she tries to ignore it, it continues to pull at her, like a child to a coat tail. Seeing a deviation from the path, she accesses the situation. She turns on the trail, taking the alternate route. This could be dangerous, she’d never ventured this part. But, then again, something about that excited her, too. Breaths, heavy and ragged, fill the air as she keeps running --- faster, steadier.