#hungryjaws

[zmogedraa-blog]

VIII . Does your muse use any scent to perfume the apartment? What kind of scent is it? Does the apartment smell of home-cooked food?

character   development.

to   put   it   bluntly,   hannibal’s   house   smells   expensive.   he’s   a   very   rich   man,   and   you   can   tell   from   the   moment   you   walk   in.   usually   it   smells   of   cedarwood   and   vanilla   if   he   hasn’t   found   new   candles   that   he   likes,   but   the   closer   you   get   to   the   kitchen   the   stronger   the   smell   of   cooking   is. 

hannibal   cooks   as   often   as   he   has   the   opportunity   to   —–   it’s   by   far   his   favourite   hobby.   despite   what   people   might   think,   he   doesn’t   eat   human   flesh   nearly   as   often   as   he   might   like   to   :   where   on   earth   would   he   get   the   meat   without   being   dreadfully   conspicuous   ?   his   favourite   meat   is   lamb,   and   he   could   rattle   off   several   good   recipes   for   it   if   you   asked   him.  

[bodyhallowed-blog]

❛ How many more people need to die before you’re satisfied ? ❜ have some taunting Tyr

          he doesn’t believe it. this can’t be happening. this isn’t real. it’s a dream. a nightmare. it has to be. he doesn’t believe in his parent’s religion. doesn’t buy into the stories and morals and lies they trained into him as a child. this can’t be real. it can’t be. it’s impossible. 

          still, soren can tell himself that as much as he likes. it doesn’t change the fact that the voice and figure before him is that of an oversized dog. teeth all but glint in the half light. a taunt, soren would suspect, if it wasn’t for the terror clenching tight in his chest as back is pressed up against the closest wall. it’s not real. it can’t be. muddied hues are wide, lips parted in something of a terrified whine as his back is flattened impossibly further against the wall behind him - blood running cold as the creature takes a step toward him. trainers scrabble against the dirt beneath, trying to distance himself further yet finding no where to move to. 

         “you--you don’t know what you’re... you don’t know what you’re talking about!” are those tears at the corners of his eyes? soren wouldn’t be able to tell you as breath hitches in his throat, vision darkening as he struggles to breathe. it knows the blood on his hands. it knows what he’s done. it’s just like his father used to say. soren’s done terrible, terrible things. they’re coming back to catch up with him. “just--just leave me alone--i haven’t--i haven’t done anything--” // @hungryjaws // dangerous starters // accepting

[bertievi]

@hungryjaws continued from X

The visage was horrifying and that remained an understatement, the teeth, the tongue, everything from the way the figure smiled to the way it moved and gestured, it was very clear that of all situations which required a hasty retreat, this was the one! However, he thought what was before him might enjoy a chase if he did decide to turn tail and run. He needed to be sensible... if that was at all possible in such an instance.

Rightly unsettled, the King held his ground nervously but resiliently despite the mocking laugh for his title. “I am --King, yes.” He confirmed, but not of the chosen by the almighty, that was not his to assume, if he felt like God was with him, he certainly felt very alone in that moment. “A -representative of the --people here.” He tried to ignore the laugh, “Who is it that I --am --addressing?”

[terrorcaptain]

@hungryjaws continued from X

Francis was a complicated man when it came to his ways of thinking, he was a formidable sailor and too dedicated to his crew and ship, however he could not care less about the North West Passage, nor the command of Sir John Franklin on the partner ship of Erebus, not when he knew what was ahead for them in the pack ice.

He had not thought it possible to see the man before him and as fear had tried hard to take hold of him, he resisted as opportunity had presented itself. “Safe passage for my men onto King William Land, before the ice crushes any chance of our escape from here.” It wasn’t far, 300 miles at most, they could make their way back to Canada from there. “What would be the price of such a request, Sir?”

[zmogedraa-blog]

Tyr // Drops a partially mangled human liver by his feet. He may or may not have already eaten some. Bad dog. But at least he's sharing.

blease   send   me   things

hannibal   looks   down   at   the   gift,   studies   it   for   a   moment.   he   realises   it’s   a   liver   and   picks   it   up,   smells   it.   it’s   FRESH.   it’s   HUMAN.   his   lips   curl   into   a   smile.   perhaps   it’s   half   -   eaten,   but   once   it’s   washed   and   cooked,   that   doesn’t   really   matter   to   him.   no,   no.   doctor   lecter   has   learned   not   to   be   picky   about   his   food.  

he   leans   down   to   pet   this   hell   dog,   holding   out   his   hand   for   a   moment   so   that   tyr   can   sniff   it   if   he   wants   to   before   hannibal   scratches   his   ears.   ❝   now,   there’s   a   GOOD   DOG.   thank   you   kindly,   i’ll   be   sure   to   cook   us   something   nice   with   this.   ❞