hatigave-a

[hatigave-a]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE : please feel free to follow me again on hatigave. please keep in mind that i won't be terribly active over there, and that i will put my foot down and prioritize plotted interactions. (this post will be queue'd multiple times.)

[hatigave-a]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE : please feel free to follow me again on hatigave. please keep in mind that i won't be terribly active over there, and that i will put my foot down and prioritize plotted interactions. (this post will be queue'd multiple times.)

[hatigave-a]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE : please feel free to follow me again on hatigave. please keep in mind that i won't be terribly active over there, and that i will put my foot down and prioritize plotted interactions. (this post will be queue'd multiple times.)

[hatigave-a]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE : please feel free to follow me again on hatigave. please keep in mind that i won't be terribly active over there, and that i will put my foot down and prioritize plotted interactions. (this post will be queue'd multiple times.)

[hatigave-a]

THIS BLOG IS NOW AN ARCHIVE : please feel free to follow me again on hatigave. please keep in mind that i won't be terribly active over there, and that i will put my foot down and prioritize plotted interactions. (this post will be queue'd multiple times.)

[hatigave-a]

i’ll  sing  you  a  song    &    it’ll  be  the  song  of  the  sea                   ⎯                    we’re  in  a  hurry  boys,    &       we  have  a  long  way  to  go.    farewell  my  love,    i  have  a  long  way  to  go.    

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐕𝐄       ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯       an  indie,  selective,  mutuals  only  multimuse  which  focuses  on  the  forgotten  characters  and  those  who  could  not  be  saved. 

 &         the   wolf     howled   at   the   moon   ,      wrapped   her   name   around   his   tongue        ;         until  we  meet  again   !          (         in  dreams.         in  death.         in  memory.      )       

[hatigave-a]

you probably knew this was coming by now, but i'm putting this blog on an indefinite hiatus. will i return? probably after the holidays. but it's much more likely that i will at some point remake this blog entirely and start from scratch on here.

i have had so much fun on here and i thank each and every one of you for hanging out with me. catch you on the flip side ! ( or on @hitcritical if i can interest you in some wrestling kids ! )

[hatigave-a]

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

[hatigave-a]

⸻   ✧    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-a]

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

[hatigave-a]

[hatigave-a]

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-a]

@iinmortales @timelovcd

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

[hatigave-a]

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-a]

@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-a]

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-a]

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.