#cleansedhands

[tinkerled]

“Power is inert without action and choice.”

THE ELDER SCROLLS V: SKYRIM SENTENCE STARTERS ( accepting ) !

    how dare he say such a thing. towards a man he didn’t even know. but maybe the great corvo attano was right. perhaps he’d become nothing more than a puppet to use as the duke constantly pulled at the strings binding, and leading him deeper into a life of corruption and iniquity. but does anything matter anymore?

    all is already lost. his clockwork soldiers in shambles, and his only means of resolving a complicated problem stolen away from him by none other than emily kaldwin, just as he had once taken anton sokolov from her. there’s nothing else but death, or perhaps something worse awaiting him? he had failed the coup. what good is he now?

                                                                                      was he ever any good at all?

    maybe he should stop fighting. maybe he should let go of his blade as his body aches and a cut on his head bleeds, soaking black hair and staining human flesh red. but kirin refuses. a guttural groan escapes him as he forces himself on his knees. his limbs screamed with exhaustion, but his mind shrieked with fear of a notion that a fate worse than what the outsider can offer awaits him on the other side.

    ❛ then i choose this ! ❜ he rolls over, swinging his blade wildly as it connects with another firmly held sword. no, he’d rather die a genius than go back to being a nobody.

[fatiguefatigue-blog]

☕ = What drinks do the mun and muse like best? Do they prefer cold or hot drinks?

Depends on the kind of day and season.

Both are sluts for smoothies and prefer pomegranate related teas.Olivia will drink any kind of tea, the mun however switches drinks sporadically, sometimes its a week of Orange Juice, a week of Chocolate Milk, a week of only Milk, Water, Pomegranate and Very Berry Tea Black Tea, Irish Breakfast Tea, Apple Juice, Smoothies, Ginger Ale, Ginger Beer, etc. Esp Apple Juice/Cider. Give me that shit.

Common problem both of them have with both cold and hot drinks, it takes them a long ass time to drink it, but even when it goes to room temperature they're still drinking it.

[howlered-blog]

@cleansedhands

“Shit would’ve hit the fan if you hadn’t come through. Howlers know how to keep their word, though, not like those stiff-shirts down in the Duke’s palace. Or the Overseers,” he exclaimed, waving his hand to the air. “Hey--Give this man a drink. On the house.” 

As one of the howlers came up behind the counter, Paolo left it. Two of his people were playing their violin and singing their song, the woman’s voice high but pleasant and the man, a deep baritone but calm. A rat scurried across the floor and he played with a ring on his finger.

“One thing’s been running through my mind, though. Could’ve sworn me met before. Down in the market,” he said, his back to Corvo, his tone like this was a normal conversation. “That was you. Wasn’t it?” It wasn’t a question.

[voidseyes-blog]

If I'm corgi attano does that make you the meowsider?

don’t make me suplex u into the void

[highwatcher-blog]

@cleansedhands

"Attention, all citizens: Curfew extends from sundown to sunrise..."

The announcement cracked through Dunwall like a choir of railed freight trains in the dead of night. A cat, spooked, knocked a trash bin over.

Walking up to the attic, Teague tried not to curse the floorboards for their incessant whinning and popping, but there was no point. He spotted Corvo across the room, awake. There was a strange, whistling sound coming from here. A humming.

“Trouble sleeping, Corvo?“ Tegaue asked, but he wasn’t looking for an answer. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d see to Callista’s requests on more adequate books for Emily. If I’m right, she’s gotten into one of our own...personal works here and there. Nothing we can’t take care of, of course.”

[voidseyes-blog]

+ @cleansedhands

“She whispers to you when you think no one’s listening; tucked in bed, dreaming peacefully while you wrestle through the throes of fitful sleep. Do you ever wish you could join them? Escape the voice that plagues you?” The heart. “The years pass, but the image of your dying Empress still haunts you. You remember the way her life faded from her eyes, her blood slipping through your fingers.” The Outsider sat perched atop a slab of stone, welcoming his marked in their familiar chasm of despair. He watched Corvo with dark interest, and lowly, he murmured, “And what about her dying words? You won't forget, ‘won’t you? Corvo?’”