T h e S t a g s M i n d

[thestagsmind-blog]

I pray that you all can forgive my silence. 

Life has gotten in the way of this blog, as it so often does.

[sue-78-deactivated20151128]

Hannibal - Season 3 First Promo

[thenovelbyme]

[thestagsmind-blog]

ik its not munday but can you do like a saturday munday thing

(sure)

[jamiemoriartyx-blog]

"I’m sorry Doctor. I didn’t realise you ended your sessions today."

        Irene hovered by the threshold. She knew that she should have booked, but         having just plucked up the courage to see a professional had meant that her         choices were limited. She half turned to go, but stopped and spoke :

                    “How would I book an appointment? So I don’t arrive unannounced                     next time.”

[thestagsmind-blog]

There's a moment where he considers sending her away with the vague instructions and his telephone number. A moment where he couldn't care less about this woman and her problems, myriad though they undoubtedly were. There's a moment where he'd sooner see a night of peace than another seemingly endless, sickeningly predictable conversation.

Their woes were always so tedious.

But it's only for a moment, the his gaze rises, remembering the professional mantel he has adopted. He may be a monster of his own divining, but he refuses to be discourteous, no matter how convenient it may be.

'Please, come in.'

[killerxqueenism-deactivated2015]

"Is that right, sir? Well," Fiona sat down with a small huff. "I suppose you’ll have to make time for me."

[thestagsmind-blog]

A corner of his mouth lifts, a subtle shift. He is sure it reads as a playful smirk, perhaps even as encouragement. In truth, even he isn't sure if it's a snarl or a smile. 

Perhaps the manic depressive stewing in his entry can sit a while longer, twisting away the scarf doubtless clutched in his firsts until its nothing more than thread.

'Some would consider forcing themselves upon a psychiatrist a poor beginning to the patient doctor relationship.'

[thestagsmind-blog]

[thestagsmind-blog]

He'd sooner drink the entire bottle of this flat, off brand champaign than spend another moment listening to the drivel.

To the name dropping and the flirtations and the forced smiles.

His eyes skate the room, praying, silently, emotionlessly, for distraction. An escape, whatever form it may take.

[thestagsmind-blog]

'I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave. I've ended my sessions for the day, and that includes impromptu visitors.'

Especially impromptu visitors.

[thestagsmind-blog]

Eyeing the pale callouses along index and thumb, the doctor smiled inwardly. He did so enjoy musicians.

'How long have you played?' A step from behind the desk, his own hands folding in his lap as legs leaned against the oak edge, 'Cello, I'm assuming.' The marks were too low on his fingers to be a lighter instrument.

[thestagsmind-blog]

'If you're here for an appointment, I'm afraid you've come at poor time. I have no flexibility in my schedule for walk ins.' 

Nor any patience for them.

[thestagsmind-blog]

L I K E    F O R    A  S T A R T E R 

M E S S A G E   I F   I   O W E 

[thestagsmind-blog]

. l o v e l y .

[formischa]

—- ℳ ⊱

             The hand ghosting over her cheek and gliding into her hair               has the woman’s breath hitching. She’s already tearing up,               and now that he’s speaking their mother tongue her tears               spill to stain her cheeks. Mischa’s lips peel back so she may               grin, a gentle and adoring laugh escaping her at his words.

              He may as well have been, what with her disappearance.

                ❝ Ne. Aš esu čia. Hannibal, I am here. ❞

              The hand on his jaw shifts lower to circle the back of his neck,                both arms snaking around his neck in a quick embrace. She’s                terrified to let go. Fears if she lets go, perhaps this will all have                been a dream. She ups on her toes to match his height, cheek                pressing against his own cheek so she may breathe him in.

[thestagsmind-blog]

Here. 

Here in his city.

Here in his home, in his office.

Here in his life.

In his arms.

She rises, tear stained cheek brushing against his jaw, against his temple. Her breaths in his ear, real and true. Breaths he had imagined forever silenced. Breaths he had known were damned, were gone. 

Dead.

In a moment the thought sends his hold to tensing, free arm whipping to encircle that narrow waist, to test the strength of those strong ribs with a trembling grasp. Fingers gathering in the loose fabric of her blouse, hardly believe that there is cloth to hold. Hardly believing that the woman he clutches is possible. 

His face fell, buried in the crook of her neck, in those golden locks that had grown so long, so beautiful. They were like their mother's, ringlets that rose and fell in an easy swell of hills. He hand't cried since their parent's death. Hadn't cried even when she was taken, even when they, those bastards, had presented her end. 

Lecter had thought his tears forever dry.

But now, now they flowed, singular and silent, not a torrent but a slip, a small stream. 

She was a gift. 

[thestagsmind-blog]

. l o v e l y .

[formischa]

—- ℳ ⊱

             She can’t  help  herself. Not now. Not after all she’s fought              for. Not after all the  time she spent searching, and hoping,              and praying to find Hannibal  again.  Mischa can no longer              control her impulses,  and  she  steps  hesitantly closer. the              blonde closes the  distance  between  them,  one  shaking              hand lifting so she may very delicately brush her finger tips              along the contours of his cheek and jaw.

             He’s just as handsome as she knew he would be.

                ❝ Aš praleidau jus, broli. ❞

[thestagsmind-blog]

There are no words. 

There is no air.

He stands, limbs frozen as those gentle fingers sweep the cheeks that have grown cold with years. He wonders if she can feel the venom that had infected his pulse, if she can see the horror behind the beauty. Wonders if she will turn from him in sickness, her heart shattered with realization. 

Wonders how she can be. How she can have a heart to shatter.

Wonders how he is standing, wonders when his legs locked.

His own grasp rises, mirroring his touch, first gracing that silk cheek, then marking the curve of her ear, fingers threading through gold locks in a possessive hold, palm pressed against that strong jaw.

'Aš iš proto?'

[thestagsmind-blog]

To my new followers, welcome.

To my old followers, welcome.

The ask is open. 

The threads are coming.

[luttomaestroarchive-blog]

n a v i g a t i o n 

[viktcryia-deactivated20150409]

                    ❛ and they teach dhat                     to children ? brilliant. ❜

[thestagsmind-blog]

'If children are so easily influenced by a rhyme, well, if that is the case they weren't cherubs to begin with.'