bored whale noises

❝ He would sit his throne like a carrion crow feeding on the opus of h u m a n suffering. ❞ An independent roleplay blog for the Outsider from Dishonored

[worldofhommes]

Visit Original Link

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Standing on the cliff face  Highest foe you’ll ever grace  It scares me half to death  Look out to the future 

[killingmyselfbrb-deactivated202]

WHEN DOES YOUR SUMMER VACATION END september-ish? && hueh eve is always around for u to pester if u wanna bother her but don’t want to commit to something intense (or if u do idk i’m always down for whatever)

sheila’s in hiding more or less but she can always pop up 2 punch the outsider too

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UHHH, around the last week of august possibly the 31st but I’m not sure

evelyn is my favorite local serial killer I’ll def hit you up if I get any roleplaying cravings or if I wanna ease myself back into the clusterfuck that is roleplay in general

rip sheila hope she has lots of pavlovas where she is

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[ (・0・) ﾉ ]

[killingmyselfbrb-deactivated202]

I MISS HAVING U ON MY DASH come back 2 me slinku

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executive dysfunction and anxiety have kicked my ass but god I’M GONNA TRY TO LOOK AT THIS DASH AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK IF NOT MORE BEFORE SCHOOL CONSUMES MY SOUL

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breedless replied to your post:

leans forward

[ (・0・) ﾉ ]

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[ your fave is problematic: 

only logs on to rp to threads and then vanishes for 5,000 yrs ]

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Dirty Baptism [maladieu]

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maladieu:

            The light that blazes is luminescence between her fingers. Sick and             bright, iridescent essence that comes from the Enchanted Ones.             Leviathan, Great Beast of the Ocean. Eyes of black and its shapes that             inspire. That haunt and force the Isles to be torn asunder. Achievement             and power from the legacy of a man to put a gun to his head.

            Jill swears she can hear them sing.

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Violence is nothing new to him. Born to live and die on the streets he had never thought twice seeing bloated bodies filled with rot crammed into dark nooks of the city. Seeing someone die is new. The gunshot rings in his ears as his caretaker staggers, a brand new bloody hole appearing like magic in the back of the man’s head. Outsider can’t look away, closes his eyes only when blood sprays his face and there’s the telltale thump of his caretaker’s body falling.

Rooted to the spot, he brings his hand to his face to discover fleck of what he guesses to be brain among the mess of blood now staining his fingertips. Why is this happening? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, they weren’t supposed to be interrupted. He feels sick to his stomach and, stomach churning, turns slowly to see where the shot came from. Darkness all around save for the low glow of torches lining the alleyway that flicker off the cobblestone and brick.

“Show yourself!” His voice echoes pitifully off the stone, the high pitched voice of someone on the cusp of adulthood which breaks as fear makes his heart hammer at the very back of his throat. He doesn’t want to die by the hands of some assassin (who else could it be?) when he was destined for something so much greater.

“You’re trifling with someone very important,” he warns, shoulders squared back in what he prays to the Void is an imposing stance. Of course, no one outside the covenant knows who he is. No outsiders are privy to the sacred activities they were performing especially not the grand sacrifice they were about to preform.

[overseerteaguemartin]

The Last Leviathan

[overseerteaguemartin]

“I suppose not,” Martin returns after a moment, eyeing the blistering wound on The Outsider’s face. The Heretic’s Brand is still an angry red and The Outsider doesn’t seem to be showing any quick signs of healing. Perhaps it will begin to fade tomorrow. If not, well, he’ll make do. “I’m going to take it as a compliment,” he adds, lips quirking into a smile, “and who said the Abbey and The Outsider can’t ever get along?” His gaze remains pointedly on the Heretic’s Brand before resuming his work.

When The Outsider rises he’s already sighing in dismay. He’s still filthy, but he humors the god. Leaving the wet cloth on the edge of the tub, he stands and seeks out a mirror. Returning with it, he hands it over. “It may fester if not cleaned properly,” he remarks on the mark, adding curiously, “Strange, though. I always imagined that things like you to be impervious to any wounds no matter what.” The High Overseer moves closer, his fingers reaching out and brushing against the scalding brand. It still is fascinating to think that the supposed Outsider is whole before him. He finds it more curious that The Outsider can experience pain.

Keep reading

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From Teague’s hand the Outsider takes the mirror and turns its reflective surface to take a good first look at himself. The mark itself is no surprise but the ugliness of it catches him off guard. Stretching across the top part of his face, from cheekbone to forehead—miraculously missing his eye—with dark red scar tissue already grown in the crevices the brand left behind. It looks smaller than it feels, and he recalls the smell of burning flesh during its application well.

To Teague’s comments the Outsider shows no response, not so much as pausing while he gently runs his fingertips over brand. The brand’s mere presence is reminder enough of his own fragile existence in this realm, how terribly mortal he has become. He traces the edge of the brand with his index finger, eyes narrowed as he watches his reflection test the fragility of the scab, digging a nail into the brand with a visible wince. There’s no blood, a good sign. Perhaps it will fade with time, however much time he has left here before the Void takes him back.

He lets the mirror go as Teague tugs it from him, sitting back down in the now tepid water. As much as Teague pushes for information though the Outsider’s reactions, the god’s face remains impassive. He will neither give an inch nor a mile.

Arms placed back on the edge of the tub, he sits patiently through the rinsing of his hair, only raising a hand to slick back unruly bangs that hang in front of his eyes. “Always the hospitable host, Teague.” He heaves a sigh and rises when Teague unlocks the cuffs, stepping out of the tub with a modicum of difficulty as his bruises throb with a dull ache.

“So long as don’t demand a show of petty party tricks, I’ll take the latter option.”

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Dirty Baptism [maladieu]

Candle light dances over discolored brick walls, casting unnatural shadows in the small room. The dim light has him squinting in the gloom as he adjust the garments he’d been given. Where they once would have been too lose on him, back when he scavenged on the streets, they now fit as if they were made for him. Which they were. He’s special, chosen, revered. It only makes sense he’d get a fine leather jacket and fingers be adorned with silver rings imported from Tyvia.

He admires their polished surface in the dim light by rotating his hand back and forth to watch the gentle glint of candlelight play off the metal. It gives him great satisfaction to be taking the plunge into the deep dark unknown of death for such a great cause. The Void has yawned beneath him for months, beckoning in the undulation of its dark folds of warped reality that he could never quite touch but lingered oh so close, just out reach.

Placing his hands on the small wooden dresser he leans forward to examine himself further in the mirror. Healthier than he’s been in months and full of life which was ironic considering he was about to die. All for a good cause, Outsider reminds himself and straightens with a brisk knock on the door.

It’s time.

The door opens and he watches the hunched figure of one of his caretakers shuffle in (the hoods make it impossible to tell who is who and he had never bothered to memorize their names). Outsider sniffs and examines his cleaned and trimmed nails for it is below his status to acknowledge them first. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He extinguishes the candles one by one and follow the caretaker out of the room. The scent of burning whale oil fills Outsider with excitement, and he’s so full of energy he feels if his skin is about to vibrate off his frame. He would gladly slough off his flesh and muscles if it meant it would bring him closer to the Void. His stomach clenches on itself as they walk in the dark corridor with him right behind the caretaker. Ready and willing to die.

[american-wet-dream]

what a sad hand fate has dealt you…

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[ Sorry I haven’t been active! I’m literally had to do 3 exams, 2 power points, and an essay in the span of three weeks without stop. I’m back for the most part and kinda doing threads based on what I can handle. ]

[overseerteaguemartin]

The Last Leviathan

[overseerteaguemartin]

“Play your cards right and you may just live to see that day,” the High Overseer replies with a smile, watching The Outsider settle into the tub. Satisfied with his position, Martin carefully relinquishes his weapon and High Overseer jacket. He’d hate to get it wet, disposing of his gloves neatly as he makes quick work of his shirtsleeves. Rolling them up to his elbows, he makes his way to the side of the tub.

He fishes for a cloth and bar of soap, shoving them in the water next to The Outsider. The water is pleasantly warm to the touch, the soap already exhuming something subtle and sweet into the water. Lathering the soap and cloth together, he lets the bar of soap sink into the tub, making a motion for The Outsider to present to him his hands. Martin tuts at the abuse that has been done to them, brows pinched together as he carefully cleans The Outsider’s hands with the soapy cloth.

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The Outsider slumps against the smooth curve of the tub, long gone the dignified manner he might have held when connected to the Void. Soothed by the warm water the Outsider sinks down in the tub until the water laps at his chin. There he watches Martin lather up a cloth with soap suds beginning to drift and then cling to the sides of the Outsider’s bent knee peaking above the water. It is all very pleasant and he enjoys it for the moment with the knowledge that Martin will enact whatever plan he has concocted for him tomorrow.

He offers his hand without fuss, noting how the water is steadily becoming discolored a rust brown from the sheer amount of grime on his flesh. For all the marks on his body he can only imagine how mangled the Overseer’s brand has left his face, and on that thought reaches up with his free hand to touch the deep burn marks left behind by the iron. If he were a vain creature of flesh it might have bothered him. As it stands it is troubling to be marked by the symbol of the Overseers, more troubling that it has not healed yet no doubt due to the Holger device’s terrible tune.

“Would it have mattered?” he asks, allowing his hand to sink below the water. “Your course was set, choices made which you yourself set in motion.” He makes eye contact with Teague while leaning back his head with a smile only visible in the uplift of his voice. “I’m not one to ruin a good show.”

“Give me a mirror,” he says after Teague has finished cleaning both his hands, bracing his feet on and bottom of the tub and pushing himself upright. It’s a clumsy motion and the water sloshes, dangerously close to spilling over the tub’s rounded edge.

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to do list

organize tags, i.e. simplify tags ( outsider headcanons —> headcanons; )

delete extraneous posts both ooc and ic [ includes thread wtih deactivated rp accounts / crack stuff ]

archive threads with rp blogs that haven’t deleted

follow more people

starters??

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Announcement

After much consideration I have decided to take a semi indefinite hiatus. My mental health is strained right now for a variety of reasons and roleplay has become a sudden significant source of stress which is the last thing I need during the holidays. I will be finishing up my active thread with overseerteaguemartin and then decide if I will go on indefinite hiatus permanently or begin activity anew.

Apologizes to sacrarxum, iimperatrix and any others who have may have made a starter for me--I will not be responding. I just cannot handle it.

Feel free to unfollow me if you wish. Happy holidays everyone.

[deermemehost]

Alignment Tracker

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        Chaste ◌●◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ Lustful     Energetic ◌●◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ Lazy     Forgiving ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌ Vengeful    Generous ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Selfish        Honest ◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌ Deceitful             Just ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌● Arbitrary       Merciful ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ Cruel        Modest ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Proud           Pious ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ Worldly       Prudent ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌ Reckless  Temperate ◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌●◌ Indulgent      Trusting ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ Suspicious     Valorous ◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌ Cowardly

    A ◌◌◌◌◌●◌◌◌◌◌ B

[iimperatrix-deactivated20150113]

          ▓█ ▌「 circumscribedvoid ┊

                    An indignant huff trails past           lips quirked to the side in a mockery           of confusion imprinted upon youthful           visage, throat ( c h o k e d ) by the           shadows curling past her shoulders,           unnatural as the being who stalks           her breath with pitch black eyes she           dare not meet. Not yet.

                              ❛ Wh — What are you                               even talking about .. ? ❜

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“Dear Empress you know precisely to what I am referring."

His words are not smug or demanding. They carry the weight of certainty to them as does every movement produced by this form. Around him the environment bends to the weight of his presence, light and shadows warped so that the darkness pools at the point beneath his floating feet in a seething mass which looks almost alive.

[american-wet-dream]

You cannot kill the rat plague. 

[overseerteaguemartin]

The Last Leviathan

[overseerteaguemartin]

Teague’s brows rise and lips curl in amusement at The Outsider’s biting words. “Now, now, that’s not entirely true,” he reminds in good humor, “You’re still of use even when dead. Perhaps even greater use…”  Rolling his shoulder blades, he watches the deity rattle in shackles, nodding to himself. “Oh I absolutely agree. Partnership is only possible when both parties are on equal levels…” he agrees, moving forward to curl a finger around the metal chain. “The problem is that the only way we are going to be on equal levels is if by the next five seconds I become the same force that you are,” he laughs, shaking his head. 

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Any humor Teague finds is lost to the Outsider whose lips pull into a sneer in the amused Overseer’s direction. He doesn’t let that expression linger for long, defaulting to a smooth neutral while Teague babbles on. Teague loves to hear himself talk, but he always had the makings of an orator brewing within him. All those innate skills have placed Teague here to be his warden, and the Outsider could not be more pleased Martin’s life didn’t end in a ditch on the Morley coast. "The day you become like me is a day I would love to witness.”

He doesn’t resist Teague’s guiding hand on his back, walks willingly into the bathroom where he stops before the tub. Teague is correct, he knows all this. Knows only the cleanest water is provided for the High Overseer, knows that before he rose to this position any chance to clean was gone with a sponge and bucket of filthy water.

“Is that what you think?" he asks, first peeling off the gloves from both his hands. Dried blood sits under his fingernails, slightly crocked where they have grown back after being pulled out. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I find you quite interesting then.” Scarred knuckles, lacerations coating his palms…there was simply too much damage on this body to catalog. The black and blue bruises littering this body make him ache and frown while undressing. Stepping into the tub once his clothes lie on a heap in the floor, the Outsider eases his tired body down into the water.