rottedhope-archive-blog
rottedhope-archive-blog
ARE YOU REAL?
8K posts
We swim in different oceans but land on the same shore. It always starts with a lighthouse.
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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this blog is now an archive. come join me at my new account.
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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this blog is now an archive. come join me at my new account.
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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this blog is now an archive. come join me at my new account.
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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this blog is now an archive. come join me at my new account.
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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this blog is now an archive. come join me at my new account.
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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 #UncleVanya cast member #JessicaBrownFindlay (Sonya) reading #Homer’s #Odyssey (#36): (X)
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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this blog is now an archive. come join me at my new account.
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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i think this blog needs some serious revamping
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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instagram + @rottedhope, @columbiakiller && @ofteeth
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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Though she would typically protest to antics, call him absolutely MAD, there are moments where she thinks she is perhaps too uptight. When was the last time she set herself free? How she longed for him to show her his kingdom, dash through streets and spaces between homes, simply live for a day. "Your home is truly beautiful."
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   “You think so?” 
O, he asks it with a cheeky twist – a sort of smile that cascades over his fanged teeth before he laughs something swell. His hand moves to touch the bladed shoulders through the fabric of her shirt, rubbing a hearty circle before stepping forward. 
“I knew you would – I had a feeling within my gut. It told me you would be fond of the sights.
And when I followed it – well, HERE WE ARE.” The Dane’s arms spread to show the vast expanse between his limbs and the skyline. “Have you ever been?
Here or anywhere?” She seems more liked a caged lark than a free dove – much rather swap the white garb for grey. Only does Hamlet’s political standing and rich blood allow for her to make the journey to his grounds.
And when he has never not taken full advantage?
“Ah, my favorite spot is just around the corner. We’ll try first.”
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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Elizabeth from Bioshock Infinite ATC (Artist trading Card) done in copic markers.
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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Bioshock: Infinite
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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“IT’S ALL ABOUT ME”
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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     With every glance over her shoulder, it felt as though suspicions would only continue to arise around the cloaked young woman. She supposed, she hoped that as long as she avoided guards or police, she would be able to stomp out whatever trail she might have left behind. Finkton certainly wasn’t familiar to her, of course, though she’d read a little about it before; this was far from how it had been portrayed in writing, she noticed. The people here didn’t seem as glad to be there as they’d been portrayed, it seemed--not to mention, there was a great absence of the feel of a very positive atmosphere.
Most seemed keen on keeping their noses down, those who were trying to earn their keep, that is. No sense in meddling in business that might get them into trouble. If anybody had known who she was, however, who knows what sort of reaction the people here would have had. All it seemed to do was make her feel a little more uneasy, concerned now that there were other things she should be worrying about.
Elizabeth really hadn’t hoped she would be bothered, and the longer she lingered in the open it seemed that she would be left alone for the most part. As long as she seemed busy, or keen on heading somewhere, it didn’t look like anyone wanted to interfere here. At least not until she’d heard someone calling from over her shoulder, actually giving her a kind greeting. The girl’s brow furrowed briefly, pausing in her step to catch glimpse of the first stranger to speak to her at all since she came here.
The young woman appeared friendly enough, but then again, one can never be too sure of who they’re deciding to trust.
“H-hello...can I help you?”
       Finkton. Shantytown, whatever you wanted to call it, it was not a happy place. Here, it was where an open death could easily get stepped over, dismissed by authority because–that’s just the way things are. That’s just the way the ‘barbarous’ inhabitants behave. Here, it was where the finest stitches and care was taken to the back alleys with little charge. For, the doctors weren’t in the finest shape either. Here, it was where clothing was worn-out, stitched, and then reused for the little ones. The shabby attire of the local women of Finkton was a great contrast against the frocks the ‘finest women’ of Columbia wore. All elegant and what not…but such circumstances did not mean one’s emotions were stagnant. In this piss-stream of a town, laughter could happen. Even if said laughter was the crude sort for a person whose name they had not even known.   The older women had better things to dwell on about, the younger women—their minds wondered. Who was s h e? Walking around in this humidity with an h o o d. Even when they wanted to pretend their associates didn’t exist, they wouldn’t go that far in looks. Such commentary was not discreet, And yet there was one voice that stood out amidst the jeers, high and almost as though one could hear the pout, ‘Oh. Ya’ll leave her alone! She’s prolly foreign!’ Minnie lacked knowledge on different parts of the world but, foreigners–in what she assumed off-bat, were funny folk.
‘Mina. She came to the wrong spot to be foreign at n’ you know it!’  ‘Kay but…what if she need help?’ ‘You can go help her. I gotta get t’work!’ others agreed in their own forms and fashions, stepping away. Minnie, even while she had taken up for the stranger debated approaching. If her mother found out, scolding would once more commence. But, Minnie supposed she just wouldn’t tell her mother of this encounter when all was said and done. 
“Hi!”
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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aut viam inveniam aut faciam.
i will either find a way, or i will make one;    (via conceptual-a)
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rottedhope-archive-blog · 10 years ago
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Even in a utopia, someone has to clean up the mess. That’s where I come in. The girl promised me a way out, and I was desperate enough to believe her. We were all buried at sea; we just didn’t know it yet.
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