whvler-blog

[whvler-blog]

he  watches  her  in  silence  as  she  stares  and  questions.  yes,  he  was  there  ---  and  surely  she  is  already  well  aware  of  that  fact,  for  otherwise  she  would  not  have  asked.  the  whaler  responds  solely  to  her  last  inquiry,  but  even  then  does  not  do  so  verbally,  instead  offering  a  slow  shake  of  his  head.  if  he'd  been  there  to  kill  her,  she  never  would  have  known  he  was  coming.  (  even  now,  with  the  void-given  powers  fading  from  him,  he's  still  a  good  assassin  ---  but  he'd  only  kill  a  child  if  daud  told  him  to,  and  the  knife  of  dunwall  has  already  departed  from  his  life.  )

with  careful,  obvious  movements,  he  reaches  behind  himself  and  into  a  pouch  in  his  belt.  “  i  found  this,  ”  he  begins,  voice  distorted  by  the  mask.  “  i  thought  you  might  want  it  back.  ”  perhaps  she  no  longer  has  need  of  such  simple  things,  given  that  she  is  to  become  empress  so  soon  ---  if  she  has  not  already.  he  has  not  kept  as  close  an  eye  on  politics  as  he  should  have  as  of  late.  still,  despite  his  doubts  as  to  her  desires,  he  pulls  out  one  of  her  dolls,  freshly  cleaned  with  its  wounds  stitched  with  care.

@whvler​ ❤’d for a thingy !! 

          Hands trembling, a young girl looks up to see the masks that reflected her face on their wide eyes. Daunting, cold, and lifeless — like the body of MOTHER, a part of her heart she would never see again. And it was their fault. CORVO was all the way on the other side of the TOWER, and he could not help, and it was a wonder how this one assassin managed to sneak into her bedchamber without alerting any guards. She wanted to do something… anything… but she was just a little girl.

           ❝ Y-You were the ones who killed her, weren’t you? Who killed my mother? Are you here to kill me too? ❞  

[whvler-blog]

[whvler-blog]

yooo i think i’ll be on again this weekend. sorry for leaving you guys hanging w/ replies & such!

[whvler-blog]

wcrfareoverseer:

                 he  swallows  hard  grimaces  at  the  pressure  in  his  throat.  at  this  point,  he  thinks  he  should  probably  find  some  way  to  counter  getting  choked  out.  though  if  nothing  else,  he  should  at  least  be  grateful  it  isn’t  a  knife  in  his  neck. “ oh.  makes  sense,  i  suppose. ”  he  shrugs. “they  fear  your  abilities.”  slowly,  thomas  reaches  out  to  rest  a  hand  on  the  whaler’s  shoulder. “ yeah  –  yes  please.  let’s  –  some  fresh  air  would  be  nice.  besides,  overseers  come  through  these  halls.  you  know  –  that’s  the  third  time  i’ve  woken  up  somewhere  high  up.  this  is  getting  out  of  hand. ”

            he’s  not  entirely  sure  how  to  feel  about  the  fact  that  the  overseer  seems  comfortable  enough  to  touch  him.  most  people  shy  away  from  physical  contact  when  it  comes  to  the  whalers,  likely  thinking  they’ll  get  shanked,  but  thomas  seems  to  have  no  such  fear.  “  i  know  they  do.  you  know,  maybe  you  should  try  staying  out  of  the  way  —  just  so  you  can  stop  getting  knocked  out.  ”  he  remains  crouched  but  moves  forward  to  take  hold  of  the  other,  right  arm  encircling  his  waist  so  he  can  travel  efficiently.  “  close  your  eyes.  you  might  feel  sick  if  you  don’t.  ”  with  that,  he  focuses  and  transverses  away,  first  to  the  balcony  and  then  to  the  roof.  once  there,  he  turns  his  attention  to  the  overseer,  taking  care  to  ensure  he  has  his  footing  before  he  lets  go  of  him.

[whvler-blog]

❝𝔚𝔥𝑦 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔟𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱?                        ❝——𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰.❞

                                                                                        ~ 𝒹𝒸𝓊𝒹

[whvler-blog]

wcrfareoverseer:

                  the  voice  surprises  him  almost  enough  for  him  to  slip  off  of  the  chandelier.  that  is  thomas’s  voice.  he  recognizes  it  better  than  he  recognizes  his  own.  granted,  he  doesn’t  often  listen  to  himself  when  he  talks. “ thomas? ”  he  echoes  the  whaler,  reaches  back  to  cling  to  the  base  of  the  chandelier.  the  overseer  reaches  up  to  touch  his  throat,  still  sore. “ um…  i…  not  sure?  i  was…  just  woke  up. ”  a  glance  around  reminds  him  this  is  the  abbey,  and  he  frowns. “ what  are  you doing  in  here? “

            his  gaze  passes  over  him  for  a  moment,  inspecting  for  damage  ---  just  a  choke  hold,  it  seems.  no  lasting  damage.  “  i  came  to  find  you.  do  you  think  i’d  be  in  the  abbey,  of  all  places,  for  any  other  reason?  not  if  i  can  help  it.  this  might  be  your  home,  but  your  brothers  would  bring  out  their  music  boxes  if  they  knew  i  was  here.  ”  the  whaler  crouches  before  him,  arms  resting  on  his  knees.  “  did  you  want  me  to  get  you  down?  i  can  take  you  outside  somewhere.  it  has  to  be  where  they  won’t  see  us;  otherwise  i’d  put  you  down  right  below.  ”

[whvler-blog]

@wcrfareoverseer:

                   it  isn’t  even  the  arm  looped  around  his  throat,  cutting  off  the  blood  flow  to  his  brain  that  is  truly  the  worse  part.  rather,  it’s  the  waking  up  sprawled  in  some  high  place  with  no  conceivable  way  down  that  thomas  truly  hates  the  most.  when  he  slowly  returns  to  consciousness  laid  carefully  on  a  chandelier,  he  jolts  up,  grabs  onto  the  edges  so  as  not  to  fall. “fuck!  again?!  really?!”  he  peers  over  the  edge  at  the  ground  too  far  to  reach  safely  and  shakes  his  head. “i’ve  been  a  good  little  overseer.  i  follow  all  the  strictures.  i  don’t  deserve  this  shit.”

            he  thinks  it’s  just  going  to  be  another  day  of  sneaking  into  the  abbey,  making  his  way  through  like  a  shadow  ---  he  usually  travels  along  the  chandeliers  to  keep  from  being  spotted.  it’s  when  he’s  about  to  blink  over  to  the  next  that  he  stops  and  stares,  unable  to  believe  his  eyes.  (  not  that  he  hasn’t  done  this  to  people  before,  but  he  feels  kind  of...  bad.  )  “ thomas---?  ”  the  whaler  transverses  over  to  him,  eyebrows  raised  behind  his  mask.  “  how’d  you  manage  to  get  up  here?  ”

[whvler-blog]

wcrfareoverseer:

                  “ yes,  i  know. ”  he  knows  what they  are,  but  the  who is  unclear  to  him,  and  not  only  in  the  sense  of  their  identities.  even  that,  he  finds,  is  less  so  important  than  their  personalities.  he  turns  back  to  look  at  the  abbey,  lights  dimmed,  quieter  than  it  usually  is  (  not  that  they  made  much  noise  to  begin  with  ). “ they  are.  those  of  them  that  still  have  family  take  this  time  to  be  with  them.  if  they  don’t  have  family,  there  are  loved  ones. ”  and  yet,  thomas  is  still  there,  by  himself. “ yes,  i  think  i’d  like  that. ”  it  doesn’t  occur  to  him  until  after  he  accepts  the  offer  that  thomas  cannot  drink  without  removing  his  mask.  the  prospect  of  seeing  his  friend’s  face  for  the  first  time,  pulls  his  lips  up  into  a  genuine  smile.

            “  none  of  us  have  families.  at  least,  no  family  but  each  other,  and  even  that’s...  tentative.  half  of  us  would  probably  stab  each  other  in  the  back  if  it  meant  moving  up  in  the  world.  ”  thomas  is  not  that  way,  but  if  he  were,  he  would  not  deny  it.  “  we’re  a  group  of  mercenaries,  assassins,  and  orphans.  people  with  nowhere  else  to  turn  that  can  still  hold  a  sword  and  aim  a  wristbow.  we’re  only  here  because  we  can  kill  ---  and  also  because,  if  we  want,  we  can  not  kill.  we  have  a  choice.  ”  the  whaler  doesn’t  understand  his  friend’s  sudden  grin  for  a  moment,  long  enough  that  he  stares  blankly,   but  he  figures  it  out  a  moment  later.  “  i  need  to  get  out  of  this  uniform  first.  i’ll  be  back  in  a  minute.  ”  he  transverses  back  to  the  rooftops,  finding  his  bag  ---  there’s  not  a  lot  in  there,  but  enough  that  he  can  feign  being  normal  for  a  night  with  halfway  decent  clothing.  (  his  friend  doesn’t  have  to  know  that  he  stole  these  clothes  from  a  target’s  closet.  the  man  who  owned  them  won’t  be  needing  them  back  regardless.  )

[whvler-blog]

۞ Indie Outsider from the Dishonored series ۞ 10+ years of roleplaying experience. ۞ Semi-Selective. ۞ Mainly does para/novella writing style. ۞ Canon + OC Friendly ۞ AUs and Crossovers are welcomed. ۞ Discord available upon request. ۞ Mun is a sweet guy, and he loves meeting new friends.

{Info} - {Ask} - {Rules} - {Image edit by me}

[whvler-blog]

@wcrfareoverseer​:

                   thomas  doesn’t  think  he  will  ever  be  accustomed  to  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  whaler  behind  him,  but  he  had  learned  after  the  second  or  third  time,  that  there  was  a  certain  sensation  that  came  with  his  appearance.  it  wasn’t  the  most  reliable  thing.  often  times,  thomas  turned  expecting  to  see  the  assassin  and  was  greeted  instead  with  emptiness.  when  he  turns,  though,  he  catches  sight  of  the  masked  man. “ evening,  thomas.  what  are  you  doing  here  tonight?  i  thought  you’d  be  off  celebrating.  surely  your  people  at  home  are  expecting  you. ”  of  course,  the  same  could  be  said  of  him,  alone  on  a  night  in  which  most  people  would  prefer  to  be  close  to  their  loved  ones.  it  resonates  with  him  and  his  polite  smile  suddenly  feels  forced  and  empty.

            “  ---you  know  what  my  people  are,  thomas,  ”  he  says,  not  unkindly.  “  if  we  celebrate,  it’s  not  together.  ”  he’s  not  upset  about  it,  per se,  but  it  does  fill  him  with  some  sense  of  disappointment.  “  besides,  i  --  well,  your  people  don’t  seem  to  be  the  celebratory  sort  either.  if  you’d  like,  i  thought  we  could  go  to  the  pub,  get  some  drinks?  ”  the  mead  isn’t  bad  around  these  parts,  and  though  he  rarely  removes  his  mask,  he  supposes  he  can  make  an  exception  for  an  occasion  such  as  this,  where  he  wouldn’t  be  able  to  participate  if  he  did  not  remove  it.

[whvler-blog]

warilyvoid:

whvler 

He was reminded of a small boy at the sight of Thomas; one with a rapidly erratic gaze and a rat as his familiar. Perhaps it was a mutual way of survival or the set of common possible routes fate would lead them in, but reasoning aside; The Outsider experienced a mildly higher interest for each than the typical city dweller. That was until both followed their positively most BORING fated path. One seeking revenge on the neighborhood bullies whilst the other settling as a ( temporarily ) dedicated city watchman; the predictability of humans was borderline absurd – though The Outsider certainly gave no benefit of the doubt. 

It was only until Thomas joined the Whalers that The Leviathan was reminded of his existence, by the association of a very old friend. Once a figure tossed aside as failed entertainment; now the subject of recycled fascination, the representative god let himself wonder how it felt to be branded a heretic by the Abbey of the Everyman, only to later use his secondhand gift passed along from Daud. He wouldn’t allow the query to linger on his mind without answer. 

                                    – There were, of course, other matters to address.                                                                          Thus, he struck two birds. 

Luring an essence into his domain was easiest when it was at it’s most vulnerable. Sleep was a weakness to every living being. “Do you feel any familiarity by my presence?” Fabricating with wisps of fog, he found himself most comfortable with his arm resting upon an according knee as he sat upon a floating fragment in the dead sea. “Thomas Briggs; we have a mutual friend. It’s a pleasure to meet one of his loyal underlings.” 

he’s  only  just  gone  to  bed,  his  head  barely  hitting  the  bundle  of  blankets  he’s  taken  to  using  as  cushioning  before  he’s  dragged  down  into  a  deep  sleep.  it’s  been  quite  the  long  day,  and  rest  is  sorely  needed  ---  if  he  keeps  trying  to  function  on  little  to  no  rest  and  high  activity,  he’s  likely  to  burn  himself  out  before  his  time.  (  only  twenty--two  years  of  age,  and  he  already  feels  ancient.  )  

as  things  are  in  dreams,  it  feels  both  like  mere  seconds  and  millennia  have passed  by  the  time  he  finds  himself  confronted  by  a  half--stranger.  “  ---enough.  ”  the  response  is  accompanied  by  a  shrug  given  with  half  effort,  something  he’s  barely  bothered  with.  “  i  feel  like  i  should  know  you,  like  i’ve...  seen  you  on  the  street  before,  but  never  spoken  to  you.  still,  i  think  i  know  who  you  are.  ”

and  how  could  he  not?  despite  how  little  daud  speaks  of  his  brief  glimpses  of  the  void,  he  is  certain  that  is  where  he  is  ---  which  would,  by  default,  make  this  the  outsider.  isn’t  he  supposed  to  be  more  afraid?  at  this  point  in  his  life,  though,  all  he  can  feel  is  exhausted,  like  he’s  done  too  much  but  knows  it’s  not  enough  all  the  same.

“  it’s  a  pleasure  to  meet  you  as  well.  ”  thomas  forces  up  a  polite  tone  for  the  sake  of  the  other  ---  not  so  much  out  of  respect  as  in  reciprocation  to  his  tone.  he’ll  treat  him  however  he’s  treated  by  him.

[whvler-blog]

voidseyes:

+ @whvler

“Discarded, tossed aside in the gutters with the death and decay. Rats boring in the bodies, corpses littering your feet�� How many times have you been thrown away?” His parents left him to the hounds of an unforgiving world: first a refuge where a child’s dreams came to die, then the bloody streets who’d no love for the sinners and the heretics. “No one knew what to do with you.” The Outsider saw it all, the young Thomas a sad and woeful thing before he felt the weight of a blade… Before he found his place beside Daud. But how long would that last? “Who’s to say it won’t happen again?”

“  nothing,  ”  he  says  flatly,  gaze  shifting  to  the  blade  in  his  hands.  he  knows  there’s  no  guarantee  that  this  safe  haven  he’s  made  for  himself  amongst  daud’s  people  will   last,  but  he’ll  deal  with  that  when  the  time  comes.  (  when  and  not  IF,  for  as  much  as  he  tries  to  deny  it,  he  knows  things  simply  cannot  stay  this  way  forever.  )  thomas  hefts  it  for  a  moment,  testing  the  weight  despite  knowing  it  well,  then  sheathes  the  blade,  glad  for  the  familiar  snick  of  it  folding  away.  there  are  few  constants  in  this  world,  he’s  found,  but  one  is  the  existence  of  death  and  the  other  is  the  Outsider  himself.  even  if  both  are  not  entirely  eternal,  he  thinks  they  will  both  remain  in  play  until  long  after  he  has  passed  from  this  world.  “  did  you  need  something  from  me?  ”

[whvler-blog]

lmao gotta be up in six and a half hours for work oops i’ll do replies & stuff while i’m there bc work is super chill

[whvler-blog]

blackeyedbxstard:

█ ▌ A chuckle tickles the back of his throat as the liquor slides down cold and settles warm in his belly. He shifts his weight against the bar, all casual and languid smooth. He never takes his eyes off of Thomas. “I’m an old friend of Daud’s.. A very close friend.”

His voice dips into a whisper. “I am the Outsider.” There could’ve been a second language on his tongue, or perhaps it was merely imagined, but the gleam in his dark eyes was certainly not. “And you’ve just turned this into a very interesting evening.”

        he tries not to think of the situation as threatening, but it does have his hair standing on end. “ as far as i know, he has no friends. ” that’s not to say the other is lying, but he doubts that daud is the sort to become anything closer than acquaintances with those he knows -- even those he’s been in contact with for quite some time.

        that icy feeling intensifies at the stranger’s response, and his hand grips his glass a bit more tightly, though it’s mostly to keep himself from aiming his wristbow from instinct alone. he doesn’t enjoy this feeling of dread. “ have i? i’m glad i could entertain you. is it often you find yourself in a place like this? ” thomas is determined to make this situation seem as normal as possible, though he knows it’s far from average. 

[whvler-blog]

tinkerled:

empresslain:

ok hear me out, DH1 with everything’s the same but the battle music’s been changed to this.

ok but also dh1 with dying jesssamine saying goodbye to corvo with this in the background

not that version. this version.

[whvler-blog]

Pls don’t be afraid to ask me about shipping. Chances are: Y E S

[whvler-blog]

BOLD ANY GUARANTEED TURN-ONS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT INTRIGUES THEM.

TAGGED BY: @wcrfareoverseer

kissing. biting. tickling. cuddling. neck kissing. formal wear. underwear. comfy pajamas. domination. submission. restraints. blindfolds. food in the bedroom. spanking. pain. blood. roleplaying. voyeurism. exhibitionism. vocal partners. luxury and decadence. wings. threesomes. fantasy fulfillment. hate - sex. scars. love. romance. intimacy. age difference. pegging. virginity. experience. bad boys/girls. the boy/girl next door.

TAGGING: anyone who wants to c’: