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Reblog if I can straight up ask you for a RP.

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Appended to the last:

I owe the following people replies

@fatedsoldier @tenoutten @paternall

& the following people plots/starters/further chatter

@qxeenofamputees @neverarhyme

If you are missing from this list or would like to join it please let me know. Just because I'm currently a tired noodle and absent does not mean I'm not available to plan.

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sighs heavily

I’d say my lack of activity is due to schoolwork or something else Acceptable and Valid ™ like that but, truth is I’ve gotten obsessed with another personal project. It’s dominating my life and I’m not sure when I’ll bring myself back into balance.

I wish I could finish and publish all the 90% done drafts but I… I haven’t. ugh. And then there’s the masterlist to clean and oil and update.

anyways yeah that’s why I’ve been absent. It’s not because I’m dead and it’s not because i hate any of you.

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I am getting better at smiling when people expect it.

Laurie Halse Anderson, Speak (via theliteraryjournals)

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violenceinherent:

            Attending such events as these was, more often than not, is a blade double - edged. No one could make a thing mandatory of him unless they were a man of rank more upstanding than his own, but sometimes it is his own restlessness from being too long on land that prompts him to take on mantle borrowed from father and make an appearance at gatherings as luxurious as these. He’d see himself more at home in a pub playing cards with those others of his class would turn their nose up at, yes, but here he finds himself regardless. 

            Inside of mouth is made redder and sweet with constant flow of wine, pacing himself not a thought fancied for long ( or at all. ) It’s fair exchange, he thinks, for humoring those who approach and ( re- ) introduce themselves, wishing to engage him with a little fishing. They cast their lines, amount and quality of bait wildly varying, then wait and see if he’ll bite. Jude is accustomed to this and only gives them enough to leave the topic be; to make them go home wondering. 

            Having his name in everyone’s mouth is something he’s learned to accept. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know it would be this way soon as he began refusing to see another woman ‘chosen’ for him — when he left family manor with parting gift hocked at mother’s feet in defiance.      “ Excuse me, “      he minds his manners, tone however curt, before withdrawing from a gaggle of high - standing married women he let himself mindlessly be sucked into the affairs of. He’s got an eye out for a servant, but is not above showing himself to the kitchens and topping himself off ( something else for there to be talk of. ) Before he can pursue his quest there’s a hand on his arm, and glancing down to see a marriage band beset with blue diamonds that makes his stomach flop.

            “ Julian! “      Marjorie says just a tad too loud, all teeth with her smile. Jude’s heart takes a dive into his stomach, desiring death before the woman can do anything to mortify him. It’s quite the talent of hers, really. Her husband, Gerald… where was he? Jude tries to be subtle with way head tilts from side to side, looking for his father’s long - time friend to come and recollect his wife.      “ Julian. “      She repeats herself with tone all the more saccharine, warning him that she won’t go ignored. Can’t go ignored, what with the pressure she’s applying behind her grip. Cobalt meets with sepia, Jude’s eyes narrowing ( silently wishing the Outsider to come and spirit him away to the Void. Anything, really, to escape this woman’s clutches. ) 

            “ Come with me. I want to introduce you to someone. “      Hand falls away but she ushers him after her, frequently looking back to ensure that he doesn’t make a break for it. His only reprieve is a servant come by with a tray loaded with champagne chutes. He doesn’t hesitate to replace his emptied glass with one full and take a second into his other hand; he’s got a feeling he’s going to need all the help he can get, a feeling reinforced when Marjorie next speaks.      “ I swore I saw her go this way… Ah, I think I spot her! You know Cromwell’s daughter, don’t you? Lea? “      No, he doesn’t bother to reply. He doesn’t know her but by name despite their families fraternizing from with the same social circle, but it looks they’re about to be forcefully introduced to one another. Wonderful.

She heard her family’s name, somewhere among the rolling turmoil of chatter, and her ears strained to catch another fragment. Her name she heard invoked, and turned her head, pearl droplets twitching from her earlobes. Lady Queshire, she recognized the woman, weaving her way through the slowly shifting mass of people. The man beside her, she did not recognize. Long lashes closed over her eyes once in a slow blink. There was a softness to his features, a softness evaporated in every other young man by the time they were one and twenty. It was not a particularly youthful softness, more of a feminine softness, and Lea thought, privately, that it looked rather becoming.

Ah yes, Lady Queshire had stopped her, earlier, and asked her if she would care to meet a young male relative of hers. Lea had agreed, as was polite, not expecting much of an acquaintanceship — he could always be unrecognized after the night was over without any sin on her part, should he prove more of a scandal than she needed — but nonetheless, it was polite. Ah, and she had nearly forgotten that Lady Queshire had gone to find him, in her rambling thoughts.

She lingered, swiveled her body to match the turn of her head, and smiled. “Lady Queshire,” she greeted, curving her lips into a demure smile. Her gaze flickered to the young man again, a quick glance and no more (as was polite). Only when Lady Queshire began to speak again and begin the introduction did she turn her gaze fully to him. 

“It is a pleasure, Lord Meinhardt,” she said at last, her polite smile spread over her face again. Empty, polite words, read out in a script given false, if convincing emotion. His name she had heard, of defiance and irresponsibility, in words far less kind. “How are you enjoying the party?” 

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@paternall​

Months, this had gone on, months!! Over a year of agonized hiding away, of staying indoors on the finest day for fear that someone might have the plague, over a year of cutting people off the moment a whisper reached them (old friends, they didn’t matter when lives were at stake), over a year of watching the city crumble, and it still dragged on. Would it indeed go on forever?

Lea could wait no longer. Her father feared what her Uncle Eustace might do, were he to get wind that his son was no longer under the watchful eye of Arius and Irene, and instead under the decidedly less watchful eye of Elenore. (He did not count for Maximilian or Lea, of course he did not, he did not know them.) But Lea feared for her cousin, who she loved truly despite the quarrel between his father and hers, and so, after much persuasion, Arius had, at last, agreed: Lucky must leave the city.

Thus fell the problem of finding a way out of the city for him. Stride was missing, Dundermore had refused (she suspected his inability fueled his goading method), and her own family’s agents were just as trapped in the city as she was. She had tried every route she could think of, and nothing, nothing!!!, had worked

And the plague was still getting worse.

A rumor had passed her ears (none escaped her, or so she thought) that Miss Wiltern’s old protector still haunted the city, watching over her and her sister despite being driven from her side (the circumstances surrounding that were murky to her, a rarity in this city). He, so the rumors went, was one of them who moved in shadow, and could leave the city at will on errands for his wards.

The railcar hissed to a halt, sparks flying from its wheels, and Lea peered out the window of the car. Clarke craned his neck to see past her. “That is the house?” Lea asked, speaking to the driver of the railcar.

He told her the address, confirming that it did indeed belong to Miss Rebecca Wiltern, his voice gruff and quiet. Lea nodded, and Clarke hopped out of the car, to circle around and open the door for her.

A white, heeled boot struck the ground, and Lea graciously accepted Clarke’s offered hand to rise. He retired back into the car to wait, and she made her way, alone, up the path and the steps to the house.

A maid met her at the door, and Lea drew one of her personal calling cards from the purse dangling from her wrist and offered it out. “Good day. I am here to speak with Mister Antonio, please, on matters of business.” Her voice stayed soft, and she hoped this Antonio was smart enough to employ a doormaid who did not chatter.

The maid bowed and withdrew, allowing Lea to step into the foyer and out of the mild chill of Dunwall’s winter, and there to wait, white-gloved hands clasped, to be called or met by whoever would see her.

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ATTENTION DUNWALL CITIZENS:

The DEAD COUNTERS present their first REPORT on the STATUS of the DISHONORED RP COMMUNITY. The recent spike in CASES is in line with predictions, and the EPIDEMIC appearance of it is NO CAUSE FOR ALARM. Quite the opposite!

The total number of new entries grossing revenue from recent evictions totals 60 000 IMPERIAL COINS.

Citizens are ENCOURAGED to step forward with REPORTS of new CASES. Your FIRST responsibility is to the city's HEALTH. Every REPORT aids the CITY WATCH in ensuring DUNWALL is SAFE and SECURE.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.

ORDER SHALL PREVAIL.

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neverarhyme replied to your post:

just a word of advice next time use Google drive to store stuff

i should. thing is, all that stuff was pulled from my old harddrive while my computer was in its death throes, and included about 10 GB of DRM broken videos. I don’t have the tools to replicate that anymore, that’s mostly what I’m disappointed in losing and that’s hard to store in the cloud.

mostly what i need is a lanyard to keep all my flashdrives in one place. I have too many.

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i know this bugs a lot of people but feel free to reblog this if you are open to being asked why you unfollowed a person, even if the reason is something as simple as “it doesn’t match the aesthetic i want on my dash” or “bc i felt like it”. tumblr makes mistakes, and bc of tumblr fucking up but also the culture of “don’t ask” people get scared and potentially lose friends. 

so this is just a psa that i am open to communication, no matter the reason, and you can talk to me about why i unfollowed <3

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fatedsoldier:

-

“Right. Follow me.” Hamish said, leading Arius down the main road towards the dockyards. “And what about your reasons for having a guardsman in your company, Cromwell?”

They traipsed together down the cobblestoned main road a while, past sun bleached houses and red brick rooftops both - until they came to something that stopped them in their tracks.

They heard it before they saw it, though.

Hamish looked up, placing a hand instinctively against Arius’ chest, pushing him backwards and away from the danger - the same thing he could very vaguely remember having done to his own men, and once to an Empress.

It was a fresh looking bloodfly infestation, the nest peeking through new cracks in the plaster of the house they were passing.

It hadn’t been barricaded, but if the nests were going through the walls then the interior wouldn’t look pretty.

“Shit. Anyone could wander in there.”

He wasn’t concerned with giving justification until it might be necessary, and by the time they reached somewhere it might be necessary, he planned to be well out of Hamish’s company. He did bend his mind vaguely towards it, but did not voice his thoughts. Assumption would do for now; he would speak only if challenged. However, he thought it better to walk as if they were equals rather than as one being the follower, and adjusted his pace accordingly.

Arius shifted his posture as he walked, experimenting with changing his gait and walk even as he moved, adjusting for every discontentment and similarity to previous movements he could until he found something that felt comfortable without being too close to his smooth, purposeful stride of yesteryear. He checked it with quick glances into broken windows as they walked. Casual, with more swing and a lower step than he was used to. Slower, too. Less careful about where his feet landed.

(“You could walk a spider’s web and never be caught,” Irene had said once, long ago. “Nor look in distress even once.” She smiled. Gold sparkled on her fingers, though her left ring finger remained bare.)

He halted and took a step back with the gesture, lips tensing, just barely. His sharp gaze took in the building and Hamish’s reaction in the same moment.

“Bloodfly infestations are not your jurisdiction.” He spoke with pointed deliberation. He could guess at Hamish’s intentions. “Nor your mission.”

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qxeenofamputees:

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Sybil shook her head as she made a noise of disapproval. “Wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t even trying,” If there was one thing that her constant run-ins with the Watch during and after her youth had taught her it’s that as long as everything was said and done they couldn’t care less how sloppy the job was done. Truthfully enough, it was less severe back when she was a child and wreaking havoc up and down her neighborhood streets always found her in the rough manhandling hands of the Watch. But now it seemed like the number of lazy and careless Watchmen had somehow multiplied when things started getting rough for everybody involved.

Nevertheless she carried on, slowly dimming oil lamp in hand, down the narrow pathway ahead. “Even with the Watch people always find themselves making here of all places their final resting place.” An unfortunately common and rather heartbreaking occurrence, indeed. People of all walks of life who either had nowhere else to go after their districts had been breached or were turned away because of their plague riddled bodies would somehow find solace here–in a place where there wasn’t comfort, or in a more ironic sense safety, to be found. Most perished within the first few weeks. 

It wasn’t much of a wonder to Sybil why there were always more deceased down every corner; around every dead end, than any of the unnamed corpses left to rot or be used as rat food.

“It’s a shame, really. To watch all of these people suffer and not know a damn thing on how to fix it.”

She cared, now, didn’t she, this woman? Lea almost found it amusing. A small smile flickered to her face, though gentler and less laughing than she felt, and perhaps in the dim light it might look sympathetic. “Step one is not dying yourself, I believe.” Still, there was nothing she could do, she told herself. 

“After that, maybe, tell them not to live in the sewers.” Sure, the sewers might be easy shelter, and interesting to explore, but to live with the sickening (literally, so said medical wisdom) stench of the plague-dead so near,  that was another matter. Lea could hardly understand the impulse nor did she think she wished to. “Sitting in the filth of a city isn’t the best way to avoid disease. Plague, and the myriad other maladies people have—all of them wash into the drains and the sewers.” She cast a glance towards the reeking waters that flowed to their side, wrinkling her nose even as she continued to follow Sybil.

Speaking of leaving the sewers... A frown crossed Lea’s face as she cast a glance back the way she had come. “By the by, have you see a young man, tall, dark hair, dressed like me, around? Or heard anything like bootsteps?” That description matched half of all young men in Dunwall, likely more than half. Still, she thought to herself, it was unlikely that either girl would run into a great deal of people down here. Surely he was the only young man nearby. Had she heard him as they walked and spoke? 

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inhales. exhales. screams.

i’ll be here tomorrow to answer things, fix the list, do business, and maybe (maybe) start some new things? that’s a very very strong maybe.

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I lost the flashdrive with all of my textures and resources and fc things on it!!!! This is the WORST bc a lot of that stuff is impossible for me to find again bc i no longer have the tools for it. Ugh.

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B+/- "I'm not terribly fond of the current fashion trends - but outside that, you're a lovely woman."

“Any in particular you find unflattering?” It’s a genuine question— Lea loves discussing fashion in any form, whether critiquing it or praising it. “Truthfully I think the fashion of wearing massive fur collars is best left in last season. The round ones are no better than the old half-circle ones. Both require a particular complexion and coloring to really look well on anyone. The linen and silk ones have come back into fashion and I much prefer those.” 

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"Hm. What IS a seven? B-" - tenoutten

Her eyebrows arch on her face, and ungloved fingers stretch to lie flat on the table. “A seven, Gabriel?” she asks, her voice light and mock-hurt. “Come, I thought I was an eight-point-five, though that hardly does me justice either. I recommend you get glasses; your condition seems to be worsening.”

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B

A comment from street filth passerby elicits only a mild delight of vanity. It is only proper to her mind that this woman in her lower-middle/working class ignorance should think her beautiful. Still a touch of annoyance rises at not being ranked higher, a B+ at the least, surely. She says, shows none of that, only smiles, a gracious and elegant daughter of ancient nobility, and says merely, “Thank you, miss.”

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"B+" Zosime says in front of Clements mother. It's a lie. "A+"

That it is mere politeness she hardly doubts. Lady de Melo’s daughter, despite her career choices, has and does show subtlety, when she chooses to. The fact that she is Lady de Melo’s daughter places her under immediate suspicion, and what Lea is nearly certain is a flirtation between Zosime and her son gives her motive enough for flattery. But, the truth is for now irrelevant.

“You give me much credit, Lady Zosime.” Her lips curve as they speak. “I am surprised and honored that you should think so highly of me.” She touches her voice with the delight vanity feels even when knowing it is lied to, which renders itself as pleased. “I daresay you have become a lovely young lady yourself.”