bloodtopology-blog reblogged
reblog if you want a relationship like this
bloodtopology-blog reblogged
“don’t tell me how to live my life”
no you have to stop im the only person in the empire of the isles with yiff sanction no one else is allowed, just me, the duke said so
forgive me there is yiff on your dash if you scroll down ||
dont yiff $300 ban
i’m sorry my muse has been so lax lately - most of all, apologies to all of my thread partners. been having some major executive dysfunction since graduating, so my writing muse in general is kind of nonexistant. i still love hypatia & dishonored rp, though! and i’m really happy to see a lot of you are still around as well.
VILLAINOUS ATTRIBUTES
REPOST // DON’T REBLOG !
| aggressive | callous | cannibal | careless | compulsive | cowardly
| domineering | envious | greedy | hypocritical | impatient | impolite
| kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | murderer | obsessive
| over-critical | over-emotional | patronising | sarcastic | self-indulgent
| serial-killer | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unclean | unpredictable
| untidy | vain | vengeful
tagged by: @wastelandmama (kisses)
tagging: anyone who wants to do it? i did this really late rip
bloodtopology-blog reblogged
GRIM ALEX
im corvo & grim alex is my student loan debt
perhaps this should have been addressed sooner, but if you ever want to know the truth your seeming confusion in trying to piece blurry memories together just know that i am available to speak with. - k. jindosh
The note was wedged under a hunk of dark bread, placed inconspicuously at the corner of her tray. The server, gone before she could even look up to say thank you, let alone ask questions. Had it been the man himself? An ally? Some sap he paid off?
Hypatia ignores the meal, instead mulling over the folded letter with a furrowed brow. Was this an act of repentant mercy, or something more sinister? Jindosh was nothing if not clever; she wouldn’t be surprised if this was a ruse. But with the Duke gone, now, what would be the goal?
He might actually pity her, and somehow, that’s even more frightening.
discretely slips on the back of the ‘i would kiss paolo’ wagon
bloodtopology-blog reblogged
Danse Macabre, Op. 40 (1874), Camille Saint-Saëns
8 PEOPLE I’D LIKE TO GET TO KNOW BETTER. repost. do not reblog, please !!
tagged by: @voidbled tagging: @allsharpmetalandshadows @voidemarked @howlered @letterfromwyman @tinkerled
ONE ( NAME / ALIAS ). skooth TWO ( BIRTHDAY ). march 20th THREE ( ZODIAC SIGN ). pisces FOUR ( HEIGHT ). 5′1 i’m short FIVE ( TIME ). 2:33 am SIX ( SLEEP ). smth i should be doing right now but im not because i took a nap earlier and i am a fool SEVEN ( FAVOURITE BOOKS ). please don’t ask me this, it’s too hard to answer. i guess i’m gonna say the bloody chamber by angela carter or maybe st. lucy’s home for girls raised by wolves by karen russell. hoping to get the chance to read more on my own time now that i’ll be graduating EIGHT ( FAVOURITE ARTISTS ). the mountain goats TEN ( COLLEGE ). i’ll be graduating with a b.a. in english in less than ten days!!! ELEVEN ( DREAM JOB ). writing books/comics/video games and actually getting money for it :1 TWELVE ( THE MEANING BEHIND YOUR URL ). it’s just a reference to the painting by sokolov you can find during the clockwork mansion, “the blood topology of grim alex.”
bloodtopology-blog reblogged
The lights flicker. On, off, on, off. One second, the lab bleached baby-powder white. The next, black.
She hugs herself and shuffles off for the wine, and with every step, he watches. The uneasiness has returned, swirling and lapping at the walls of his stomach. She doesn’t talk normally. She doesn’t remember anything. The bloodflies around them have long-rotted, their dried pool of blood gluing them to their rusted trays, and the hand in his jacket writhes like a twitching bug. He is not afraid. He is wary as an abused dog.
Keep reading
Freedom at last, as brilliant and crisp as a plunge into freezing waters. The beast is alive, more alive than dull little Hypatia could only ever dream about in the worst of her fantasies. So wonderfully, terribly alive–the rest of humanity was walking corpses compared to her. If she tore them apart, they were certainly asking for it. And this one–she likes the way he begs. After all, he did draw first blood.
Alex dares to let the sword’s edge graze her, and the slice on her shoulder makes a shiver of excitement crawl beneath her belly button. She wants him to fight back, as foolish little creatures are wont to do, and once he’s dead, she’ll drag his body to a corner by the teeth, and tongue at all the little wounds he left behind. Delilah could have her oil paints; as far as Grim Alex, there was no better art than what you could do to flesh.
❝This is going to be fun.❞
The Crown Killer takes a bounding leap skyward, and lands on one of the ceiling beams above the room–a place that only the bats and bloodflies get to see. She, too, is one of the vermin, crawling along the beam on her hands and knees, her breath as deep and ragged as a rattlesnake’s shudder. Her neck gives an involuntary snap to the side.
So frightened and fleshy. She wants him. She wants him to bad it hurts.
❝I think I’ll start with your teeth.❞
❝Yank them one by one, and suck the pulp out like pumpkin seeds.❞
bloodtopology-blog reblogged
Mission 3: The Good Doctor
bloodtopology-blog reblogged
older than silver | @bloodtopology
This little feud between Byrne and Paolo has run the district nearly six feet under…Not that it wasn’t getting there to begin with but - things weren’t quite as difficult to manage. Dust storms and the like were a thing, yeah, but goggles and a mask and some common sense kept that out of the way for the most part: Overseer and Howler blockades and straight up turf wars were another dish entirely.
Rowan’s sleeping in an abandoned apartment far, far above the war zone below these days, curled up against a rotting couch. It’s safe, the stairwell is blocked off and no one’s been up here for months - maybe even years by the look of things - but it’s not a perfect living situation. They can’t hole up in there forever, waiting for the dust to settle, and eventually hunger wins out.
They think the night is the best time to slip away, past the Overseers and agitated gangsters stalking the streets. It’s not a bad idea in theory, this isn’t Dunwall and things work different here. The mark on their left hand burns and their form fades into a long legged canine as they slip into the dusty streets below to scavenge for food, supplies, anything they can sink their teeth into before the dawn comes.
Nope, nope, nada, they come up empty with every dumpster they dive into, their agitation increasing. Shutting their eyes tight as the wind picks up, blowing dust from the mines up into the air, they hunker down, slipping into a cracked door as the magic releases its hold on them.
‘And now I’ll have to find something to replenish myself with, wonderful.’
It’s been a long time since Hypatia has visited the Dust District--six months at least, and when she’d been there last, she was certain things couldn’t possibly get worse. Clearly she’d been wrong. A gust of debris picks up again (the last one had been--what? only twenty minutes ago?), and she ducks in an abandoned doorway to pull her shawl tighter around herself. With this frequency, and this intensity, it’s a downright crime to make people live in this place. Not that the Duke cares, so long as he gets silver platters printed with the royal stamp.
Something within her belly squirms, like frustration, or maybe hunger. Alexandria heaves up her doctor’s bag to hug to her chest, watching the dust storm roll by, high-whistling and all-consuming, like a scream from the void. And they lasted so long. She chews the inside of her cheek, then turns to look at the door behind her, wood splintered and slightly ajar.
Dr. Hypatia wasn’t much in the habit of breaking into people’s homes, but she had a distinct feeling that whoever this place had housed, they weren’t there anymore. Or maybe they’d holed up in the very top room, succumbed to blood flies and let the rot nest inside them. The very thought sits heavy on her shoulder, as does the life of every fever victim. They needed her, and she’d failed them.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Hypatia creaks the door up and tiptoes inside. It’s best to be quiet--she doesn’t have it in her to carry any weaponry, so the best form of self-defense in these parts is just not being spotted at all.
bloodtopology: hypatia, taking a swig of whiskey: trust me, as a doctor and as someone with experience, you don't want to stick them bones in any places bones don't go,
@wastelandmama: grim alex: that said we're already filled with bones anyways so what's one more