hatigave

[hatigave]

RING THE BELL   ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ a free icon psd for the rp community. no credit is required (but it's always appreciated!) adjustments included. Should not whitewash, but it might be necessary to tinker with the lighting settings. Download in the source or pay what you want on ko-fi

[hatigave]

love to be vague & brief. love also to ramble & be highly detailed. depends, really. duality. range

[hatigave]

⸻   ✧    HITCRITICAL      a   chance   that   a   successful   attack   will   deal   more   damage   than   a   normal   blow.     INDIE.    SELECTIVE.    MUTUALS    ONLY.     multimuse   blog   for   characters   set   within   the   wrestling   universe.   As   pinned   by   Mani.  kayfabe   based   and   compliant.

[hatigave]

i'm going to delete everything in the inbox and go ✂️ snip snip ✂️ in my drafts. i really genuinely want to return here but aaah i'm a bit overwhelmed if imma be honest with y'all.

[hatigave]

"you look tired" well the torment is relentless and the horrors never cease

[hatigave]

[hatigave]

AND SO THEY CALLED HER MINUIALWEN MORNGLORY, FOR SHE WAS THE BRINGER OF HOPE AND LIGHT TO MANY AFTER TRAGEDY. / headcanon-based portrayal of thranduil's wife, the queen of the woodland realm.

[hatigave]

tomorrow is my half day so <3 writing here ! going to fill up the queue and try and get back into the headspaces of these beloved idiots.

[hatigave]

⸻   ✧    HITCRITICAL      a   chance   that   a   successful   attack   will   deal   more   damage   than   a   normal   blow.     INDIE.    SELECTIVE.    MUTUALS    ONLY.     multimuse   blog   for   characters   set   within   the   wrestling   universe.   As   pinned   by   Mani.  kayfabe   based   and   compliant.

[hatigave]

@iinmortales @timelovcd

*gets down on one knee* I want to make a shared oc universe with you

[hatigave]

CARVER OF BONES BEGONE with your scalpel and your sewing kit. Now comes the knife, more beautiful, more threatening, than the hands of supposed healers ever could be ! A deer hit by a truck or a bird caught in the grill of a small city car ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ both lean their crushed bodies against the touch that steals the breath out of their lungs. He is no different, leaning into the offered gentle touch as if he has never felt it before ( he has. Parents have always been kind to him at least. ) Victim on the ground is swiftly ignored now that he has another goal to focus on. Now that there is another kindness for him to chase.

Stranger speaks and her omens flutter ; dance before his eyes in pulsating colours that mean nothing yet everything at the same time. His eyes follow them, rather than how her mouth moves as it shapes itself around the letters of her spoken words. There is time, there is time. ❝ No one knows it is me. ❞ Lies ! Killer tilts his head, seeks out anything inside her eyes when he forces his own to focus. ❝ No one pays attention. The world protects the sinners because the world too is perverted, unclean and cursed. No one is supposed to know that it is me. ❞ There is no confession, no names tied to various bodies that should have been long since buried. She cannot know, but the omens speak of truth and he has always followed them without question. A final glance is given to the body at their feet. Disgusting. Unclean. ❝ He has. I wasn't supposed to be interrupted. I was supposed to finish it. ❞

the   man   is   visibly   shaken,   yet   the   violence   still   commands   his   body   with   an   unsettling   precision.   a   faint   moan   of   pain   escapes   the   unconscious   figure   at   their   feet.   his   face...   deceptively   innocent,   but   weren’t   they   always?   an   attribute   of   a   predator   was   to   draw   their   prey   in...   that   alluring   aura   was   all   it   took   to   have   them   willingly   stumble   into   the   web,   as   though   begging   to   be   stung   &   devoured.   curiosity,   an   ever-present   vice,   one   she   could   never   fight   —   &    now,   as   ever,   she   couldn’t   help   but   wonder   what   sort   of   wickedness   the   redhead   must   have   seen   in   his   victim.   or   what   wickedness   he   might   see   in   her——   their   gazes   locked   under   the   pale   glow   of   the   street   lamps,   like   a   key   fitting   its   lock.

the   corners   of   her   lips   curl   softly,   a   smile   rather   sinister.   ❝   i've   been   admiring   your   work,   ❞   she   confessed,   her   hand   now   sliding   smoothly   up   the   arm   &   neck,   her   once   steady   grip   softens   into   the   gentlest   of   touches   upon   the   redhead's   cheek   ;   the   sort   of   touch   that   beckoned   one   to   lean   in,   to   surrender   to   its   warmth   &   comfort.   the   care   everyone   strives   for.   ❝   you've   done   such   a   remarkable   job   looking   after   others...   but   has   anyone   ever   truly   cared   for   you?   ❞   she   found   herself   asking,   her   voice   softened,   soothing,   like   the   gentlest   of   lullabies.   with   her   body-crafted   tools,   she   could   as   easily   envelop   someone   in   a   velvet   embrace   as   pick   up   a   weapon   &   watch   silver   clash   with   crimson ;  painting   the   canvas   with   one's   vital   essence.   ❝   did   he   see   your   face?   ❞   the   question   followed   swiftly,   her   blue   eyes   flickering   towards   the   motionless   form   before   settling   back   on   the   tumult   of   emotions   in   the   other’s   gaze.   distrust,   surely,   one   of   many   currents   swirling   beneath   the   surface...   the   answer,   though,   would   unravel   the   path   ahead,   reshaping   it   into   something   entirely   new,   or   perhaps   something   even   more   unexpected.

[hatigave]

@luposcainus said : “is that a gold coin?” to Gilderoy.

HE KNOWS OF THE MAGIC TRICKS muggles like to perform without a drop of magic in their veins. A singular coin produced from thin air behind someone's ear with a flick of a wrist and a dazzling smile. He can do it too, even when his smile is brighter than the one any muggle could ever show. A single gold galleon is plucked from behind the other's ear with a grand display to follow.

❝ Pure gold, yes. ❞ Coin rolls between his fingers before it is pressed into the palm of Caspian's hand. ❝ One has to appreciate the way it sparkles when the light catches it just right. ❞

[hatigave]

SOMETHING THAT HAS BEEN TAKEN by force cannot be returned. No matter how desperately he tries to patch the wound with his palms ; his hands are not meant to keep the blood in. His hands are not meant to salvage life ! When they stitched him up ( in the after   ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ after they had already pushed aside organs and pinned his skin like butterfly wings to cork ) they never told him how to prevent it from happening to others. All they gave him were painkillers and a warning never to fall from great heights ever again. He had not listened, he had fallen in love all the same.

❝ No. ❞ Had the fallen son not refused to die back then, too ? Had he not stepped away from the afterlife with the sheer belief that he could live ? No, no, my love, not like this. Never like this ! ❝ I stay with you. I need to be here with you. ❞ Body is moved so it is more comfortable for Rio in his arms. Cradled close to his chest ; there where the other has seemingly always been. I am so sorry about the blood. I wish it was mine.

A kiss on love's forehead is the only final offering he can muster ( it is not a knife. It should never have been a knife. ) A small sign of affection. Trembling hands reach for the phone, whisper softly of a stabbing and a dying man. They might find two. He does not need to tell Rio. No need to frighten him. ❝ I stay with you, like you stayed with me before. ❞

shock is nothing but insult , as if he never knew , as if this outcome would never come at all . wave of peace , may you never fully crash into rocky cliffs above . little lamb , what is worse , the ache in your heart , or the ache of your wounds . KNOWS WHEN ADRENALINE WANES , the ache of heart will still be worse .

fingers pinch , squeeze his heart’s chin , ❛     ❈   -----     nothing to forgive , nothing to be sorry for , ❜ fingers splay over cheek once again , swipes at blood like blush ‘pon the tender flesh . LAMB CARRIES INNOCENCE , bleats the truth all the same . he knew , he knew , he has always known . always known what dennis is , what he was , what he will be forever . lamb led to slaughter , or did lamb follow willingly . did lamb out pace , willingly sacrificed . lamb , your cries are the prettiest , your blood spilling like honey , not tar .

❛     ❈   -----     you’re so beautiful , ma moitié , your love all the same . you should go , dennis . they’ll come too quick & sweep you up too , ❜ tell his mother he was brave , was this how fathers loved ? with crashes in walls , is this just as glorious ? he hopes so , he hopes so , he hopes .

[hatigave]

SOMETIMES HE FEARS THE GHOST OF HIS MA her features seeped in the cold of her annoyance. Obvious regret in the way she would regard her children, but especially him. All he has done since his survival has been in an attempt to settle. To begin anew in a place where he never has to see similar glances again. Dodge looks at him as if he is surprised. As if he is uncertain, but there is no malice. There is no hint of festering anger and disgust that Credence has grown so familiar with. He returns like a beaten dog begging for a kinder touch     ⎯⎯⎯⎯ on instinct, without rhyme or reason. Not because he is called, but because he thinks this is where he wants to be.

The niffler tries to pluck the shiny bit of metal on the end of his shoelaces off, before retreating out of sight empty-handed.

❝ I thought... ❞ He doesn't know what he thought. ❝ Perhaps I can help ? Idle hands are the devil's playthings. ❞ Credence nods, more to himself than to Dodge, as if that is an explanation for his presence. It isn't. He still does not know how to be honest.

Dodge doesn’t really know what to make of Credence. He likes him. He’s a good worker, and a hard worker. He seems to be the type of person that needs everyone to like him, although Dodge has tried to tell him that he doesn’t need to be that type of person a few times. He doesn’t know if it’s sunk in yet. He hadn’t been expecting him to be here, though. Maybe Anne had given him the day off and told him to go watch Dodge. Why she might’ve told Credence this, Dodge has no idea. He’s good at rodeo, but he doesn’t think he’s good enough to watch. He’s pretty sure that Anne would disagree, though.

He waves back as he walks over. “Why are you here?” He doesn’t think about how accusatory it sounds until it’s out of his mouth and then he winces a little. “Sorry.” He’s trying to be less suspicious of people following the end of Panic, but it’s hard when he’s spent the whole summer on edge. “It’s just—you don’t need to be here.” He’s never had an audience before. Even when he broke the state record, he didn’t have an audience. He doesn’t mind. It helps him focus better if there’s no one watching him.

[hatigave]

SOON HE WILL BE OUT ON THE WATER, Jackson can feel it on the wind when he tips his head back to feel the rays of the sun on his cheeks. He's sitting on the ground, his jeans stained with dirt and grime. His hands are not used to the art of fixing ; but Ray has been helping him tinker on the boat ( or he has been helping Ray, or perhaps he has only been an annoyance to the other. Who's to know. ) ❝ Sounds like a lot of things could make her blow up. ❞ A smile is offered to his newfound companion when he wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. ❝ You should join me on the water — that way you can make sure I don't accidentally blow her up. ❞

@hatigave ( jackson )

“No, you’ve got to—here.” Gently, Ray nudges Jackson out of the way and stares down at the dismantled engine. “This goes here. Not there.” He points at the pieces he’s talking about and then glances at Jackson. “If you put that there,” he points again, this time to what Jackson is doing, “it’ll blow up.” And being blown up isn’t really something that Ray wants. Sometimes he thinks he should want to be dead, but he doesn’t. It’s weird. He’s gotten used to it, but he still thinks it’s weird. “And don’t put too much gas in her, either. Or else she’ll blow up.” He doesn’t really want to lose his boat. She was a gift from his mom before she died, and Ray doesn’t think he could stomach losing her. “Ok?”

[hatigave]

TO BE UNDERSTOOD IS THE BEST feeling in the world. Life is made easier when she does not need to explain herself ( when she does not need to follow her own mind down the rabbit hole of her own thoughts in an attempt to chase after long-running sentences she can never quite catch. ) A single glance is all it takes for him to crouches down, and for her to climb up his shoulders. Suddenly she is as tall as a house ! And suddenly, she feels as if she could take the entire world ; only because he was with her.

Fingers pry away the apple's stem from the branch, careful to keep it attached to the fruit for as long as possible. They are, after all, a matching set in nature. There's no need for her to separate them now ! ❝ Maybe I'll bake you an apple pie later... or apple jam... have you ever had apple slices with cinnamon and sugar ? It's really good. I could cut them up and — ❞

Whatever else she wants to say seeps away from her. It lives and dies at the tip of her tongue when she softly bites down on it in favour of angling herself forward even further to grab an apple barely out of reach. Left hand placed on the top of Remus' head to steady herself while reaching with her right. ❝ Just tell me what you want to have, I could probably find a recipe online. It is the least I can do to thank you. ❞

@hatigave sent : [Vicki is staring longingly at remy's shoulders so she can reach the highest apple]

GETTING TIME OFF WAS A BLESSING AND CURSE. Remus didn't like not working - it made him feel as if he was wasting time. That being said , this little holiday had actually brought him a little relief and spending time with Victoria had helped with that. Noticing the way she looks at him , he can't help but grin. Turning around , he crouches so she can climb on up to his shoulders , and reach the apple that's been hanging over their heads since they arrived.

THERE'S A SOFT BREEZE THAT HELPS TO SOOTHE THE BURNING OF THE SUN ON THE BACK OF HIS NECK ; the sound of laughter in the orchard reaches his ears and he feels himself relax just a little.

It's been a long time since he'd just stood still and taken the world in. There's not a lot of time to do that at six. Especially recently. Maybe this break was needed, maybe M was right. WHAT SUCKED THOUGH , was just how much he had to hide from Vicky. She thought he worked as an accountant at a bank - it wasn't like he could tell her the truth , was it? the truth led to death. THAT WAS THE FIRST THING HE'D LEARNED WHEN HE'D JOINED THE CIA. Those you loved or cared about? they became targets.

"You got an idea what you wanna do with that?" His voice seems to carry on the wind , lips creasing into a smile. Would it have been easier to just go buy some apples? probably ; but then he wouldn't see the absolute delight spread across her face. THE PEACE.

[hatigave]

IT IS A GENTLE PLEASURE to gift something wrapped up in the nicest paper she could possibly find. Carefully selected from her collection   ⎯⎯⎯⎯ she insists that it is a good match for him. Just as she insists that she does not have to vocalize her reasoning for it. ❝ You squeeze it, and then it shoots the balls, isn't it wonderful ! ❞ Her eyes spark with delight as she rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet. ❝ And no, silly, unicorns aren't for Easter, but I thought you could use their rainbows regardless. ❞

@hatigave sent: Victoria hands Five a gift wrapped up in Easter-themed wrapping paper filled with cartoon rabbits and brightly painted eggs. It doesn't matter that it is September.

                   ˜”*°•.       Confusion  was  everything  to  creep  into  his  face  at  first;  receiving  gifts  not  even  close  to  a  common  courtesy . And  yet,  he  said  nothing,  merely  opened  the  box,  unsure  of  whether  he  was  supposed  to  do  it  in  front  of  her  in  the  first  place.  ❝ Thanks . ❞  A  word  that  echoed  quite  uncertain  as  he  tried  to  figure  out  the  exact  usage  of  the  gift.  He  took  it  in  his  hand,  observed  it  -  now  maybe  it  wasn’t  entirely  useless .  ❝ Is  it  a  kind  of  Ester-themed   gun ?  It’s  September . ❞