Entry tags:
ｎａｖｉｇａｔｉｏｎ.
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HONOR ME;
APPLICATION « PERMISSIONS & OPT-OUT « HMD « CR & ACTIVITY « IC INBOX « VISUALS « SOUNDTRACK « |
Entry tags:
➵ permissions. ➵
NAME. Abigail Hobbs
CANON. NBC's Hannibal
OOC PREFERENCES.
IC CHARACTERISTICS.
IC PERMISSIONS.
OPT-OUT/CONTENT WARNING.
CANON. NBC's Hannibal
OOC PREFERENCES.
→ CONTACT: My plurk (passiones) is always open for friendage, or PMs work too!
→ FOURTH WALLING / CANON PUNCTURE: No fourth walling, but let's talk about the Abigail Hobbs from Salem, you guys. Let's.
→ BACKTAGGING: Hell yes!
→ THREADJACKING: Fuck yeah!
→ OFFENSIVE SUBJECTS: Sexual assault/abuse and rape are difficult subjects for me OOCly, as is disordered eating. Please PM me if you think these things are going to come up.
→ PREFERRED GENDER PRONOUN: She/her/hers are fine!
IC CHARACTERISTICS.
→ CANON POINT: Post-2x13, Mizumono, + Last Voyages CRAU, after returning home and killing Hannibal. For more CRAU information, see here.
→ PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Abigail is eighteen, pretty in a way that has been described by Will Graham (who is a beat poet in his spare time) as the type that is "wind-chafed, very Mall of America". She's small of stature with long, dark hair, wears muted tones, and unless otherwise noted always has a scarf wrapped around her neck. If the scarf is pulled aside, there is a long, relatively fresh scar along the side of her neck.( Update: ) She is now missing her left ear.
→ DEMEANOR: Changeable. It kind of depends on the face she's presenting, but generally, she is a calm, sharp-tongued teenage girl with a keen eye for detail.
→ ABILITIES: Can gut and skin all kinds of things, man, you just don't even know.
→ MEDICAL INFORMATION: Nothing of note!
→ OFFENSIVE SUBJECTS: Family, cannibalism, manipulation, cannibalism, killing people, cannibalism, how Hannibal totally rhymes with cannibal . . .
IC PERMISSIONS.
→ PHYSICAL AFFECTION: L o fucking l go for it, she may react in any of a thousand different ways though.
→ MENTAL: PM me first, but broadly yes!
→ MIMICRY: Go for it! But PM me.
→ PHYSICAL VIOLENCE: Absolutely.
→ PSYCHOLOGICAL VIOLENCE: Do it. PM me about the triggers I mentioned above or if it will have long-term effects, but otherwise let's go nuts.
→ MAGIC: PM me!
→ DEBATE: Go for it!
→ CHARACTER DEATH: PM me, but probably!
OPT-OUT/CONTENT WARNING.
So, this is a pretty simple opt-out - Hannibal is obviously a canon containing a LOT of gore and violence, both physical and psychological. It also contains abuse, psychological/medical/therapeutic, and brainwashing. Should you like to opt out of discussion of these things within tags, or would like to keep it vague, just fill out the form below and I will not do the thing. I will also, of course, be putting content warning in subject headings and such, but I am more than happy to stay away from it entirely if you'd rather.
ic inbox ( ruby city )
"Hello, this is Abigail. Please leave a message with your name, contact information, and any other pertinent details, and I'll get back to you when I can.
( text | voice | video | action )
Entry tags:
- & i want & i want & i want,
- & sometimes she doesn't lose time,
- ] ( i was the lure ),
- ] did you fish,
- ] or did you hunt,
- a hundred motherfuckers,
- abibabble stabigail,
- always the possibility of murder later,
- ben is mine now,
- can't tell me nothing,
- capable of greatness,
- daddy's daughter,
- friends & family,
- girl disappearing,
- i am a human monster,
- i have been very wicked,
- i have seen sights & been scared,
- i hope i shall be better,
- i will speak the truth,
- learning how to people again,
- murdergail,
- my fathers are cannibals,
- she was nobody's meat,
- the brave face,
- there are no rosehips,
- very smart girls grow up
twenty-nine ♢ private & video
( private } ben & elena; cw fire imagery )
video
[Everything is, in its own way, a production. Even this. She's posed herself carefully, sitting on her bed and framed in light from the window, so that she looks older, more poised than she feels. What she feels is afraid. Overwhelmed. Not ready.]
[But she has to be ready, which is why she makes herself smile like nothing and nobody can touch her anymore.]
I'm not as good at telling stories as Ben is. But I want to tell this one, if that's okay, because it's important to me. Some of you know it. If you do, I hope it's all right that I repeat it.
[She looks down for a moment, at her hands where they twist together in her lap, and then up at the camera. The smile reaches her eyes, now, because she can feel the strength coming, making her spine straighter and her breath come smoother.]
Just over two years ago now - two years ago for me - my dad died. He'd killed a bunch of girls who looked just like me, and I had helped him. Because I didn't know what else to do, mostly, and because if I didn't, he said he was going to kill me, too.
I didn't want anyone to know what I'd done. I didn't want anybody to think badly of me. I worked so hard to keep myself safe that I ended up killing somebody else, and then . . .
Some of you remember Hannibal.
[She clears her throat, forces her hands to flatten out on the bed beside her.]
It's so easy to trust the wrong person. It's so easy. I trusted so many of them, and I got so many people hurt. I want to apologize, but most of the people I hurt are gone now. For those of you who are still here, I'd take it back if I could. I'm sorry for making the wrong decision.
But I'm not sorry for surviving.
[Now her eyes blaze with confidence, her words coming stronger with every breath.]
Ben saved my life. You all saved my life. So thank you. I'm going now.
I'm going to kill Hannibal.
[She hopes beyond hope that he comes back here. But that part she won't say out loud, just biting her lip, smiling, waving - and killing the feed.]
video
[Everything is, in its own way, a production. Even this. She's posed herself carefully, sitting on her bed and framed in light from the window, so that she looks older, more poised than she feels. What she feels is afraid. Overwhelmed. Not ready.]
[But she has to be ready, which is why she makes herself smile like nothing and nobody can touch her anymore.]
I'm not as good at telling stories as Ben is. But I want to tell this one, if that's okay, because it's important to me. Some of you know it. If you do, I hope it's all right that I repeat it.
[She looks down for a moment, at her hands where they twist together in her lap, and then up at the camera. The smile reaches her eyes, now, because she can feel the strength coming, making her spine straighter and her breath come smoother.]
Just over two years ago now - two years ago for me - my dad died. He'd killed a bunch of girls who looked just like me, and I had helped him. Because I didn't know what else to do, mostly, and because if I didn't, he said he was going to kill me, too.
I didn't want anyone to know what I'd done. I didn't want anybody to think badly of me. I worked so hard to keep myself safe that I ended up killing somebody else, and then . . .
Some of you remember Hannibal.
[She clears her throat, forces her hands to flatten out on the bed beside her.]
It's so easy to trust the wrong person. It's so easy. I trusted so many of them, and I got so many people hurt. I want to apologize, but most of the people I hurt are gone now. For those of you who are still here, I'd take it back if I could. I'm sorry for making the wrong decision.
But I'm not sorry for surviving.
[Now her eyes blaze with confidence, her words coming stronger with every breath.]
Ben saved my life. You all saved my life. So thank you. I'm going now.
I'm going to kill Hannibal.
[She hopes beyond hope that he comes back here. But that part she won't say out loud, just biting her lip, smiling, waving - and killing the feed.]
Entry tags:
twenty-eight ♢ spam & video ( cw: tooth squick )
spam } infirmary
[Before the pain hits, in that brief insensible moment after waking, she feels a stab of pride. She did it. She got him. She didn't win, but she fought back against the implacable, impossible, eternal enemy. She silenced him - if only for a moment, she silenced him.]
[It's after that that the pain hits, her head aching impossibly. She wants to die, laughs silently when she recognizes the irony. It feels as though she's cracking in half from her skull down.]
[But even the pain can't distract her from panic for long. While she was dead, it must have gotten worse. It creeps back up her throat before she knows it's there to push back down, her heart beating a hard tattoo in her chest as she sees-- hears-- smells red blood on her hands and the fur of the beast.]
[There is a man in the corner of the room. He breathes in and out. She can hear him speaking, one word only: "See." She can see his chest moving. She can smell blood on his teeth like he's breathing in her face.]
[She sits on her cot, staring at nothing, shivering helplessly, her throat as dry as the deadest desert.]
video
[It's later that the knives sprout. Thirty-two little monster teeth, each with a metal serrated edge, each curved just slightly, making their way into her mouth after pushing her old teeth bloody onto the pure white sheet.]
[They don't distract her as much as they should, though they cut her tongue up something wicked. She has questions - but she can't speak.]
[So in video she turns on a smile, her knife-teeth fitting together like perfect dentures, and holds up a small whiteboard.]
[It says, WHO ELSE CAN SEE HIM?]
[Before the pain hits, in that brief insensible moment after waking, she feels a stab of pride. She did it. She got him. She didn't win, but she fought back against the implacable, impossible, eternal enemy. She silenced him - if only for a moment, she silenced him.]
[It's after that that the pain hits, her head aching impossibly. She wants to die, laughs silently when she recognizes the irony. It feels as though she's cracking in half from her skull down.]
[But even the pain can't distract her from panic for long. While she was dead, it must have gotten worse. It creeps back up her throat before she knows it's there to push back down, her heart beating a hard tattoo in her chest as she sees-- hears-- smells red blood on her hands and the fur of the beast.]
[There is a man in the corner of the room. He breathes in and out. She can hear him speaking, one word only: "See." She can see his chest moving. She can smell blood on his teeth like he's breathing in her face.]
[She sits on her cot, staring at nothing, shivering helplessly, her throat as dry as the deadest desert.]
video
[It's later that the knives sprout. Thirty-two little monster teeth, each with a metal serrated edge, each curved just slightly, making their way into her mouth after pushing her old teeth bloody onto the pure white sheet.]
[They don't distract her as much as they should, though they cut her tongue up something wicked. She has questions - but she can't speak.]
[So in video she turns on a smile, her knife-teeth fitting together like perfect dentures, and holds up a small whiteboard.]
[It says, WHO ELSE CAN SEE HIM?]
twenty-seven ♢ video
[The video cuts on with Abigail ever-so-dubiously holding the camera, selfie-style. A wave. Hello, Barge, someone's here with bad news.]
So, um. I feel like we should really have a pre-formatted broadcast about this ready, a kind of fill-in-the-blanks-here style thing, but, well . . .
[She pans the camera back, revealing that she's in the clinic, and directs it towards Scott. Who is asleep halfway out of a kennel, his head resting against the bars. He's drooling a little. Some cute puppy snores are happening, too.]
I need help getting Scott to the infirmary. Or, you know, wherever you people want him.
So, um. I feel like we should really have a pre-formatted broadcast about this ready, a kind of fill-in-the-blanks-here style thing, but, well . . .
[She pans the camera back, revealing that she's in the clinic, and directs it towards Scott. Who is asleep halfway out of a kennel, his head resting against the bars. He's drooling a little. Some cute puppy snores are happening, too.]
I need help getting Scott to the infirmary. Or, you know, wherever you people want him.
twenty-six ♢ video
[Abigail is pacing back and forth in her room, looking very different than usual. She doesn't seem to realize that the camera's on, or that she's talking to herself. Said talking to herself gets increasingly loud as her speech progresses.]
Heaven is unmerciful. Yet this is known; only I had not known it so intimately. Yes, Heaven is unmerciful; any God there is has left me, and still I am so mark'd. Ne'er will I be without damnation, felt deep as a blade in my heart, and this mark, which so has seep'd beneath my skin. Ne'er will I be clean; yet this was known.
Am I alone here? Am I, in all of the world and worlds, alone?
( ooc; abigail is lady macbeth! )
Heaven is unmerciful. Yet this is known; only I had not known it so intimately. Yes, Heaven is unmerciful; any God there is has left me, and still I am so mark'd. Ne'er will I be without damnation, felt deep as a blade in my heart, and this mark, which so has seep'd beneath my skin. Ne'er will I be clean; yet this was known.
Am I alone here? Am I, in all of the world and worlds, alone?
( ooc; abigail is lady macbeth! )
Entry tags:
- ] ( i was the lure ),
- ] did you fish,
- ] or did you hunt,
- always the possibility of murder later,
- as i am bled he calls me daughter,
- bait even now,
- by the throat,
- collecting dads like they're pokemon,
- daddy's daughter,
- don't fence me in,
- friends & family,
- group therapy is choking the life out of,
- kitchen tyrant abigail hobbs,
- learning how to everything again,
- learning how to people again,
- poses poses that's all you are to me,
- rosehips,
- so i just did what he told me,
- the piemaker waltz
twenty-five ♢ spam & voice
How many people here actually hunt? Or fish? Self-sustaining outdoorsy things.
Next time we come to a port that's not - life or death, people being forced to kill each other, whatever. We should organize a hunting party.
private } mira
[As out of nowhere:]
I would want my new self to have her own becoming. So I would give her a weapon, and no memories at all.
spam } philip
[She isn't stupid. She realizes when she's being ignored, and not only does she dislike it, she finds it childish. If Philip wanted her to leave him alone and had a good reason for it - if he gave her the reason, she might accept it. But this, running away and hiding, it's behavior fit for a little boy, not an adult. It's the kind of thing the kid who threw snowballs at her might do, the kind of thing that the man she met ought to be better than.]
[So she sits down across from him at lunch after her shift is over and fixes him with a Look.]
Stop avoiding me.
spam } scott
[She tiptoes up on him on deck, sneaking up to put her hands over his eyes. She knows he can hear her coming, smell her, too, but they'll both just pretend he can't.]
Guess who?
spam } open
[When she's not tracking down crazy zombie killers, Abigail can be found all over the Barge. Much of her time is spent in the kitchens, where she works on the lunch shift with Ben and occasionally fills in other shifts as necessary. Most of her socializing in the dining hall is spent around the lunch shift, too, when she carefully and methodically checks in with the people she has begun to dub hers.]
[Later, she finds herself drawn inexplicably towards the art room. It's the first time in a while that she's gone near it; she used to be very anti-art therapy, but now . . . she doesn't know. It reminds her of Hannibal, and that calms her and makes her anxious all at once. She hovers outside the door for a while, not sure whether to stay or go.]
[Finally, she can be found in her room. The door is open, and music is playing from the inside. It's a waltz. She isn't dancing; just sitting on her bed, waiting. Nobody seems to be coming.]
Next time we come to a port that's not - life or death, people being forced to kill each other, whatever. We should organize a hunting party.
private } mira
[As out of nowhere:]
I would want my new self to have her own becoming. So I would give her a weapon, and no memories at all.
spam } philip
[She isn't stupid. She realizes when she's being ignored, and not only does she dislike it, she finds it childish. If Philip wanted her to leave him alone and had a good reason for it - if he gave her the reason, she might accept it. But this, running away and hiding, it's behavior fit for a little boy, not an adult. It's the kind of thing the kid who threw snowballs at her might do, the kind of thing that the man she met ought to be better than.]
[So she sits down across from him at lunch after her shift is over and fixes him with a Look.]
Stop avoiding me.
spam } scott
[She tiptoes up on him on deck, sneaking up to put her hands over his eyes. She knows he can hear her coming, smell her, too, but they'll both just pretend he can't.]
Guess who?
spam } open
[When she's not tracking down crazy zombie killers, Abigail can be found all over the Barge. Much of her time is spent in the kitchens, where she works on the lunch shift with Ben and occasionally fills in other shifts as necessary. Most of her socializing in the dining hall is spent around the lunch shift, too, when she carefully and methodically checks in with the people she has begun to dub hers.]
[Later, she finds herself drawn inexplicably towards the art room. It's the first time in a while that she's gone near it; she used to be very anti-art therapy, but now . . . she doesn't know. It reminds her of Hannibal, and that calms her and makes her anxious all at once. She hovers outside the door for a while, not sure whether to stay or go.]
[Finally, she can be found in her room. The door is open, and music is playing from the inside. It's a waltz. She isn't dancing; just sitting on her bed, waiting. Nobody seems to be coming.]
Entry tags: