#das-mannlein

[hannigramslesbianhusband]

Hannibal Rising -- Chapters 1 - 18

Let's gooo! Starting this thread off! Before we get into this, I want to say; I know this book is Hannibals backstory, and with that said: I KNOW we are going to be experiencing The Horrors. Who's we? Me, you, Hannibal, everyone, The Horrors are everywhere. I know this will be SO tragic and I am going to be forced to sympathize with the cannibalistic serial killer. Let's get into The Horrors!

``Other rooms hold sound and motion, great snakes wrestling and heaving in the dark``

Snakes? Like "the mongoose under my porch when the snakes slither by" :3? I still haven't figured out what he meant by that, so hopefully more snake stuff shows up!

`` The hunting wagon was in the courtyard, hitched to the great draft horse Cesar. Berndt in his hostler’s apron and the houseman, Lothar, loaded three small trunks into the wagon box. Cook brought out a lunch. “Master Lecter, Madame wants you in her room,” Cook said. Hannibal passed Mischa along to Nanny and ran up the hollowed steps. ``

Hannibal cares to know the horses name and the housemans, but not the cook or nannys?

``The pigeons flocked to it, making an “M” in living birds on the ground``

?!?!? No idea what birds mean yet here but black swans were also mentioned before!

``Their vapor trails made a musical staff and Hannibal hummed to his sister the notes the black puffs of flak made in the sky. It was not a satisfying tune. “No,” Mischa said. “Anniba sing ‘Das Mannlein’!” And together they sang``

Catch me crying in the club. Is this why he likes music so much??!? Comforts him? Reminds him of his sister? Also, its SO cute that she calls him Anniba :( <3

``Still visible in the foundations of the lodge are the stones of an altar built in the Dark Ages, by a people who venerated the grass snake.``

Snakes! Held in high respect!? Maybe worshiped?? Worship might stretch it; but  yay snakes!

A bit of a long one here

``A burst of flak and the lead swan crumpled in mid-stroke and began the long plunge to earth, the other birds turning, calling down the air, losing altitude in great circles. The wounded swan thumped heavily in an open field and did not move. His mate swooped down beside him, poked him with her beak, waddled around him with urgent honks. He did not move. A shellburst in the field, and Russian infantry were visible moving in the trees at the edge of the meadow. A German Panzer tank jumped a ditch and came across the meadow, firing its coaxial machine gun into the trees, coming, coming. The swan spread her wings and stood her ground over her mate even though the tank was wider than her wings, its engine loud as her wild heart. The swan stood over her mate hissing, hitting the tank with hard blows of her wings at the last, and the tank rolled over them, oblivious, in its whirring treads a mush of flesh and feathers.``

Is.... is this just fucking foreshadowing for what happened at the lodge? The plane going down?? Everything?!

I'm going to go forward in time a bit, and put the lodge scene I'm talking about here for comparison, it is also a long one!

``The Stuka’s windscreen starred with fractures, the pilot’s goggles filled with blood and the dive bomber, still carrying one of its eggs, hit treetops, plowed into the garden and its fuel exploded, cannon under the wings still firing after the impact. Hannibal, on the floor of the lodge, Mischa partly under him, saw his mother lying in the yard, bloody and her dress on fire. “Stay here!” to Mischa and he ran to his mother, ammunition in the airplane cooking off now, slow and then faster, casings flying backward striking the snow, flames licking around the remaining bomb beneath the wing. The pilot sat in the cockpit, dead, his face burned to a death’s head in flaming scarf and helmet, his gunner dead behind him. Lothar alone survived in the yard and he raised a bloody arm to the boy. Then Mischa ran to her mother, out into the yard and Lothar tried to reach her and pull her down as she passed, but a cannon round from the flaming plane slammed through him, blood spattering the baby and Mischa raised her arms and screamed into the sky. Hannibal heaped snow onto the fire in his mother’s clothes, stood up and ran to Mischa amid the random shots and carried her into the lodge, into the cellar``

back to our regularly scheduled, in order program now:

“Do you wonder if I am worth your time?”

Bros been psychoanalyzing since 6 years old

``aligning his pens in a row before him, ``

Autism

“Does it have to be a palace?” `` “It will grow to be enormous like a palace,” Mr. Jakov said. “So it might as well be beautiful. What is the most beautiful room you know, a place you know very well?” “My mother’s room,” Hannibal said.``

Aaaw his mind palace is his moms room :(((( it did say they were both baroque style right??

"the running looter pitched forward, tumbling to fall beside the clock, his face smashed and the clock’s face smashed too; his heart and the clock beat once and stopped. " "looked at his own bare wrist as though curious about the time of his death."

Whats with the different associations of death and clocks

“It’s the day the sun reaches Uncle Elgar’s window.”

Third times the charm time to BURN TO DEATH!!!!

``To cover the noise he tried to get Mischa to sing; he sang to her. She clutched his coat in her fists. “Ein Mannlein …” ``

Well! No I'm not crying at all! my eyes are just sweaty! mhm!!! WAAAAAAAAAAA

``That was the last conscious memory Hannibal Lecter had of the lodge.``

😧

``cotton kimono was on the chair beside him``

I see why he appreciates all different cultures, through food and art and such. Hes been raised in a mixture of all sorts of them

``the tall clock tells the lateness of the hour``

Clock! Who's gonna die?

In light of the flower part with muraskai- in all other associations of clocks and death, the clocks are also destroyed or taken. This clock is not. Its a fine working clock. This could be the death of his previous life or experiences or something? Like he's continuing now. Healing? Let's start to worry once this clock breaks. (you'll have to travel forward in time a bit in this post to understand this bettter- sorry!)

``Her robe has come open and she holds him against her, holds between her breasts his face wet with tears of rage,``

Like he did to his dead mom? 😧

``feathers stuck to his cheeks.``

Like the guy who ate the bird? Who was abt to resort to child cannibalism? :)

``But it is the count she asks, “Are you all right?”``

The fuck?????

``Hannibal held the note card to his face in his cupped hands before he read it.``

Why does he always do that when he reads?

Does he need glasses or something?

``flight of birds, and the blue vein faint in Lady Murasaki’s``

Bro all the mentions of birds and now birds in relation to Murasaki. Why

``She put the silky weight of a peony in his hand.``

Peonies: Generally symbolic of love, honor, happiness wealth, romance, and beauty, the peony is traditionally given on special occasions as an expression of goodwill, best wishes, and joy.

``Mischa’s bathtub on the stove in the hunting lodge, horned skull of the little deer banging against the tub inthe roiling water as though it tried to butt its way out. Bones rattling in the tumbling water.``

I feel like the fact its a horned/antlered DEER is important. Is the use of the word horned instead of antlers important?

Also- in the show hannibal is represented with stag imagery or just kinda him with antlers. If he is a stag- and that is Mischa s bathtub- and they are boiling the deer in it- is the recurring of this specific moment trying to imply or foreshadow they DID eat mischa?

``Drops of blood fell onto the white silk of her kimono``

ERRRMM!

``He added the peony to the vase``

I've seen peonies are also associated with healing. Was this whole interaction him accepting to begin to heal from all this? Didn't blood get on the peony too?(AND Murasaki?) I suppose things effect you regardless of if you heal. Its there.

``he tried to say “Thank you.”``

See above :3 so proud of him!!

``Hannibal felt a presence looming beside him and above him and he peered into the dark. As Lady Murasaki raised the blind over the dormer window, the morning light rose over Hannibal, and over the dark presence beside him, rose over armored feet, a war fan held in gauntlets, a breastplate and at last the iron mask and horned helmet of a samurai commander. The armor was seated on the raised platform. The samurai’s weapons, the long and short swords, a tanto dagger and a war axe, were on a stand before the armor.``

I feel like this is important and means something but I'm not smart enough to figure out what

``first he took the bloodstained peony, lost among the flowers, and placed it on the dais before the armor.``

Uh oh

all the good flowers for his parents, but the bloodstained one (peony- which we've stated might be associated with healing here? maybe?) for that guy? once again I'm not smart enough to get into that or I just don't have enough information yet

``Hannibal counted the beats of the metronome against those of the clock. They went in and out of phase``

?????? Clocks???! This quote actually sent me down a very deep rabbit hole, and I ended up going so in depth about it that I decided to make a new post dedicated to it. I found out some super super cool and interesting things!! please check it out, I'll link it here.

``his second day a lout from an upper form spit in the hair of a small first-grader and Hannibal broke the spitter’s coccyx and his nose``

always defending and being nice to littler kids

I've thought a bit more about all the appearances of birds. I'm thinking that birds could be a sign of rebirth here. With my theory of the flower scene with Murasaki being the beginning of his "healing" from what happened, it lines up! Birds are mentioned then- and it also lines up with the scene in the show! y'know, the bird in a woman in a horse! symbolizing rebirth? and wills whole rebirth thing going on there? but then, that leaves the question of What about the M for Mischa? Tell me what you guys think about this, because I genuinely don't know. (if its something that comes up later though, please don't spoil!) I also think that black swans in specific have a different meaning, but I'm not sure on what.

Book Live posting (basically)

Hello!! The people have spoken, and they demand my annotations! my thoughts and opinions! yay! I'm reading the Hannibal Lecter series in chronological order, so we're starting off with Hannibal Rising, by Thomas Harris.

Basically, as I read, I will reblog this post with my annotations, thoughts, questions, ideas, opinions, etc. for the section I've read! Some of them will be silly, while some will be genuine analysis.

I consider myself not that smart so I might be wrong about some things, and that's okay! A lot of things are really up to the readers point of view and interpretation. If you disagree with something I say or want to add to it, please do! I'd love to see others' perspective and thoughts. Discussion is encouraged!!! :D Keep in mind I am working only with the information I have. This consists of: Season 1 and 2 of NBC's Hannibal (I haven't watched S3 yet), whatever I get from Google, and however far I've read in the book. And, of course, information that you guys may provide me!

And yes I will be considering the TV series while I read! I love making connections and seeing things they have used or referenced from the books. :)

[shadowsxetxlies]

@das-mannlein​​

Continued from [ xx ] 

Instinctive did not always mean intentional. In fact her response had been completely unplanned and by being unplanned had been reckless. The moment the knife nicked his flesh her breath caught. Panic filled her insides. Not even fear of what Hannibal would do to her, but the sudden realization that she had been prepared to hurt him. Something that she was almost sure she really hadn’t wanted to do. 

His hand closed around her wrist and her blue eyes were anxiously darting from the cut on his cheek, to his hand on her wrist, and to his eyes. She was searching for some sign of rage on his relatively calm demeanor. His lips had curled into that grin and she let out the smallest of breaths almost resembling a laugh. Was he amused? 

“If I had intended to actually harm you, I would have...” Her voice was soft. She almost flinched as her back collided gently with the wall behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment, partly awaiting her punishment. Would today be the day he killed her? She could feel his breath against her ear and neck. Her pulse jumped as the knife was freed from her grasp. Her eyes slowly opened, meeting his gaze once again. If he was going to stab her, she wanted to see it. 

She gave the smallest shake of her head. “I don’t know why I did that. I don’t want to kill you, Hannibal...” Her lips twitched downward into a frown. “Two for me; one for you. --but how many others have died at your hand, Hannibal? Don’t pretend my score is higher...” 

[storiesungaa]

🏆 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 💚

awww, thank you so much!!

[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.

[il-mostrc]

Most of Lecter's memories were buried in the past, much like the gathering storm forcing many to take to the shelter of their warm homes. That winter, there was no warmth and very little shelter to protect the mind from the horrors created. The memory palace served to hold the many doors that were forever shut by a locked latch. Fragments lay behind it, static images in some, and screams echo off the darkness of the disjointed pictures. This was a room he did not visit. This was a room that was forbidden and left in the hot darkness of his mind.

"'Anniba sing 'Das Mannlein'!"

A small child's voice can be heard. 'Ein Mannlein steht im Walde ganz still und stumm... Es hat von lauter Purpur ein Mantlein um...'

Those echoes were the loudest and often revisited in his dreams. It was rare, but the winter months always brought on the emergence of these faint, child-like voices. He knows the chorus is his voice paired with another, a chilling duet that sends shivers down his spine.

Hannibal's records were on display for anyone to research. His academics were highly praised, his articles became popular in the Clinical Psychiatry area of expertise. Students and acolytes praise his work. If one looked for the last name Lecter, a rare name in the States, he would appear at the top of the list. It wasn't any wonder that she had found him somehow here on the coast.

He felt restless tonight. An odd sensation caused him to grab his jacket; opening the door, he was greeted by a young woman seated on one of his couches. "Hello." A slight frown; he was sure there were no other patients for the evening. "... Do you have an appointment?" It had been far too long with muted images of his past to allow for his brain to connect with the figure of a woman who had faded before his eyes long ago.

Mischa was dead. He had buried her. If not with her corporal figure but with a spiritual one.

The air was crisp, difficult to breathe from the chilliness as she made sure to tuck her lips and nose into the warmth of her jacket. Snow descended from the skies above, overlaying the ground with even more white layers. For a moment she lifted her head, her eyes looking up to the sky, moments before a flake landed on her eyelashes causing her to blink it away. The love-hate association she had with Winter was complicated, to say the least, on one end it was beautiful, especially here. On the other end, her lungs weren't as good as they could be, it brought forth difficulty breathing- a nasty cough, and undesirable memories.

A gust of wind picked up, running across the bare skin exposed at her wrist before she quickly pressed her hands into her pockets.

"We eat or we die."

She shuddered, but quickly pushed the voice away. That wasn't why she was here, ironically being she stood at the office of a well-known psychiatrist, one she had spent many years looking for and finally, she had found him. Excitement prickled at her body with a sense of nervousness. It was time to get inside, wait, and hope to meet this Doctor Lecter. She listened to the sound of snow crunching beneath her boots as she made her way for the door.

Mischa found herself standing in front of the door with it slightly opened, seeing a waiting room empty, yet, she found herself hesitating. _Go inside!_ Her mind urged her. And with another push, she stepped inside. She wasn't aware of his schedule, what time he saw patients, which ones skipped, and left him time to himself. She brought her hands out of her pockets to rub together while she looked for a receptionist, hoping to find out a good time to come back if now wasn't the time. Yet, she saw nobody. It would be rude to disturb him if he was in the middle of a session even though every ounce of her body shrieked at her to go find him. He would understand. But at the same time, she felt she could wait a little longer. This was worth the wait.

After all, for the longest time she thought her brother to be dead, yet as she got older, the memory of him hoped for holes in that tragedy, if she escaped… maybe so had he. She softly sighed before moving to take a seat closest to the door.

{ @il-mostrc }

[drdumaurier]

@das-mannlein​ asked: “You should see the other one.” | some meme somewhere 

     To say Bedelia was displeased would be some understatement. There were times and places to act like this, but this was not it and he should have acted accordingly. Not that she was surprised by his words, he was predictable to some extent. Or at least she liked to believe that. Frowning ever so slightly, she observed him for a second.   ❝ And what do you think your actions will bring you? ❞

[blessedxsilence]

Gladiator AU with @das-mannlein

[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?

[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?”

[intuitkiller]

        ❝ i still don’t want to play your game, you said the thrill has been lost &&. can’t be regained. ❞

@das-mannlein​ liked for a starter // seven-eighty by this day &&. age

[carnagebled-a]

‘ the problem isn’t that i’m nothing like my father. it’s that...i’m a mirror image of him. ‘ 

@das-mannlein​ liked for a hayleigh starter

[netbilag2]

Beatrice Braun-Fock, illustration for Das Mannlein Mittentzwei (1937).

[combeki-blog]

Das bucklige Männlein - Deutsch Lyrics Will ich in mein Gärtchen gehn Will mein' Blumen gießen Steht ein bucklig' Männlein da Fängt gleich an zu niesen. Will ich in mein Küchel gehn Will mein Süpplein kochen Steht ein bucklig' Männlein da Hat mein Töplein brochen. Will ich in mein Stüblein gehn Will mein Müslein essen Steht ein bucklig' Männlein da Hat's schon halb gegessen. Will ich auf den Boden gehn Will mein Hölzlein holen Steht ein bucklig' Männlein da Hat's schon halb gestohlen. Will ich in mein Keller gehn Will mein Weinlein zapfen; Steht ein bucklicht Männlein da Tut mir'n Krug wegschnappen. Setz ich mich ans Rädlein hin Will mein Fädlein drehen; Steht ein bucklicht Männlein da Läßt mir's Rad nicht gehen. Geh ich in mein Kämmerlein Will mein Bettlein machen; Steht ein bucklicht Männlein da Fängt als an zu lachen. Wenn ich an mein Bänklein knie Will ein bißchen beten Steht das bucklig' Männlein da Fängt gleich an zu reden: Liebes Kindlein ach ich bitt': Bet fürs bucklig' Männlein mit!

[shadowsxetxlies]

Continued from [ xx ] 

[ @das-mannlein​ ]

There was never an inappropriate time for Bedelia to find herself flocking toward the bathtub. Any form of strong emotion or need to think brought her here to the peace and comfort of the warm water with a hint of eucalyptus. Now, it was early. The sun hadn’t even begun to peak over the horizon just yet, but she found herself unable to sleep any longer. She often found herself suffering from nightmares. In spite of the fact she took a long bath before bed, the water was now running again. 

She danced her fingers through the stream of warm water before reaching down for the bottle of eucalyptus oil. She allowed just a few drops into the water before placing the bottle back onto the floor beside her. She was lost in thought, unaware of his presence until a hand danced across her abdomen. There was a momentary flinch before she realized. Her eyes closed and she took in a soft breath. Her head fell back, resting gently against his chest. “I didn’t mean to wake you...” She was whispering as if afraid of ruining the early morning mood by speaking up. “No, of course I would not mind.” 

[olao]

Liścionos /Die einer Katze ähnliche americanische Fledermaus das Mannlein/ (Meyer 1756)

[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.”