#etiolee

//All following uses of the word “you”is meant to be in the general sense and not directed at anyonespecific.

What would prevent youfrom following someone?

Quickest way to get me not to followyou is to have a theme that's too complex, and difficult to see stuffon so I can barely or not at all find and read yourrules/information/etc. Other then that, if I browse through and don'tthink our writing styles would mesh or it just doesn't seem like ourmuses would be able to interact.

What current rp trend doyou hate?

Excess formatting, and in particularthe increasing use of “&&” I've been noticing in variousplaces. Don't get me wrong, if it makes you personally happy then doyour thing! However I hate it. A lot of the time it just makes thingsharder to read, and understand.

Also, to be honest, I don't trusttumblr to keep my posts safe. So a lot of the time I'll copy/pastestuff into an OpenOffice document, and save the other personsresponse there then start writing my own response. When I copy/pastethat formatting largely goes away so things are easier for me toread. Sorry all.

The content is what's important.

What is your opinion onexclusivity? Do you practice it? Why / why not?

Not entirely sure what this questionmeans? If it means being “exclusive” with only one particularmuse of any given character I don't see the point, and also don'tthink it's healthy. People on tumblr come, and go, and even if we arethe best of friends and talk every day on discord or what ever thatdoesn't mean a persons muse is going to stay around forever. IMO it'sbest not to make your RP depend on one person. Sooner or later theywill need a break, hiatus, loose muse, or what ever else.

 Lovely.   She catches it– as one would– and walks on over to the nearest sink, “tossing it” in there, and washing her hands.

  “I only accept authenticity, dear.”

She gets a big grin for that.

“Should have known. Only the best for you, no?”

“I’d have to ask who led you to believe such a thing. Please. It would be my pleasure.”

A chuckle, followed by his head shaking in denial.

Weak.

  Worst words could not have been spoken at such a time, a build up of gushing paranoia and fatigue sludging from within and weighing down what was once a light demeanor. What could she say? ‘Obviously’? ‘Not likely’? She could lie. She could deny concerned sentiments and reassure both of them. Her mind was fine. It was safe. Untainted. Uncracked and formidable. But lying was too much of an exercise; to think she’d had to do it to more than just herself. Of course it is, she dared to utter, hand stressing into a fist. Too much. It was too much. “…ta gueule,” came a mumble, head slowly finding diluted sanctuary onto a pillow. It was too much. Too much.

He’d said the wrong thing. God, he didn’t know what to do. How to help. He wanted her to have the comforts of home, but part of him terrified him to think she wasn’t ready to be here. He didn’t know what they did to her. He didn’t think anyone knew. He wasn’t nearly qualified for this, and it was his fault. 

A nightmare. A complete nightmare. 

Laying next to her, he said nothing as he was told, he did not touch her. But he was there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. It tore him up, the helplessness of the situation. The fear that it wasn’t going to get better. 

The mental fatigue made it harder for him to conceal his worry. While he managed to not sob in front of Amélie, gravity pulled the tears from his eyes, and he sighed. 

Whatever Gérard did at this point felt too little too late. This should have never happened. No apologies could have undone whatever they did to her. Anger was too exhausting for him at this point. There would be time for anger.