⁽ ⁱ. ⁾ 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚, @driedflwers - Tumblr Blog

𝙳𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙳𝙵𝙻𝚆𝙴𝚁𝚂. casual multi where i write whoever i want to without rhyme or reason. private, selective, and low activity. makwa, 24, two-spirit ( they / them ).

⁰¹. RULES UNDER CUT. ⁰². MUSE LIST. ⁰³. OTHER BLOG. ⁰⁴. MEMES.

#pinned.#dni.#( in my reputation era )#BETA EDITOR + XKIT REWRITTEN.

hey slayters. find me @linament

#kisssss kiss fall in love

opening dash in public just wasn’t embarrassing enough. they had to add tumblr lives

#it’s giving “cute singles in your area want to chat”#ooc.#the only thing missing here is the werewolf porn fics that they’ve got going on on facebook

philomelia

bonnie is not really here. cassie thinks she’s an imagined creature, like the friends she had when she was younger, the vague shapes of yellow and pink that had smiled at her when her mother wouldn’t (girls like them, with genuineness caught between their teeth like chunks of fresh meat… they dig their fingers into the plump fat, letting blood and viscera stain them). if her hands were truly dirty, she’d wipe them over bonnie’s cheeks. but there is just the pink stain of the journal: that is too precious to be worn by the other. but cassie must take something- the debt must always be repaid. her mother would call this a debt written in flesh than in blood, one that is unconscious and unspoken. blood requires words. “ can storms even touch you in your fancy little world? i thought that stuff only affected real people. ” wolf - muzzle of a growl, her lips curl around her words (you can bite, but you can’t make a girl like bonnie bleed).

when bonnie leans towards the journal, cassie pulls it back. she considers, for a moment, what brutality would feel like. the journal could smack bonnie in the face, leaving a red bruise against her cheek, a punishment for her infraction. but violence is a parasite: if she begins now, she’s worried it will fester inside of her. “ you joke, ” cassie said, with an easy shrug. “ but your pain will come swift and irrevocable in october. it’ll burn worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. and you’ll remember your crimes because they’ll come red - tinted. ” she cannot will her voice into athena’s shape. she cannot make them true- but she lets her tongue lavish the words nonetheless. but the payback is not yet complete. she stands to her feet, plucking the hat from bonnie’s head.

driedflwers

A HAT SNATCHED FROM A HATTED HEAD MAKES FOR HATLESS HAIR. bonnie’s bangs stick up in alarm, for they’d not anticipated being seen, and now they were caught in the nude. her shoulders fall toward. she’s deflating ––– cassie’s pulled the plug and now the air’s just weeping out of her. ' don’t be silly. that hat won’t suit you at all. you haven’t got the chin for it. ' she’s not saying this to be mean; she’s saying this to lie. most people consider this incomprehensible, but people with mothers like cassie’s tend to see it as standard fare.

bonnie with the insults and the observations. bonnie with the synchronously dazed and disillusioned expression on her face. bonnie with the straight back and the crossed arms. she rises from her stoop like a swan from a lake. callousness drapes the curve of her neck, like a swan from a lake. nasty creatures, really. they’d swallow men and women whole, if only they could ––– which is incidentally what bonnie and cassie would do to each other, if only they could. ' you’re not your sister, anyhow. she’s prettier, and she knows how to tie her shoes right. you are not to be believed, thank you very much. i’ll be going tricking in october. ' not treating. and certainly not paining swiftly.

#INTERACTION. bonnie dorset.#philomelia #cunkkkkk

s1euth-archive-deactivated20240

she was incredibly patient, looking around the street as he worked to open the door for the two of them, as if she were prepared for someone to jump out of no where and yell 'gotcha! no more sneaking into the morgue, nancy drew!' but that didn't happen and before she knew it, she was shuffling her way inside the cool, clean hallway, matching klaus step for step, a sigh of relief on her lips that he hadn't taken her money and locked her out; her secondary fear. he instructed her on her new role and nancy couldn't help but look down at herself; jeans and sneakers, her plain green t-shirt, the satchel over her shoulder that definitely wasn't carrying a computer. she did not look the role he wanted her to play, but she could lie in an instant so... maybe she'd get some improv work in while she was here. "whatever you say," she agreed, on his heels, peering into any room with a window that they passed.

"so, what can you tell me about the anderson case?" she asked in her most casual, low tone. "did you happen to interact with the body at all?" files were great, but nothing was as good as first hand experience.

driedflwers

what can you tell me about the case? ( wrong question, wrong guy. what does he know about the living / why would he know about the living? the case is a file in some desk on the wall. he deals in death, and the death ) was blurry. it was a burst of blood across the victim’s eyes. it was their brains smeared across the floor. it was the sound of them gurgling on their own blood while they attempted to push one last death rattle through the thick of it. the heartbeat in their head, the rapid pulses that throbbed in tempo with the blurry halo that circled their vision, larger and larger. THE DEATH WAS VIOLENT, MESSY: an axe to the skull and a reverberation.

' sure tried, but he didn’t really have much to say. he was dead silent. ' balmy, half-witted joke ... as if he isn’t replaying a murder scene on the backs of his retinas. klaus spares nancy the details and thinks himself all the kinder for it. nevermind that she won’t feel the same. he sways his head to the rhythm of his steps as they walk ––– first past a door marked autopsy one, autopsy two, morgue, evidence, cleaning. they round a corner into a dead-end nook, and the only thing that greets them is the sickly glow of a vending machine that’s seen better days. ' endelig! ' he exclaims with some relief. finally. ' they added clif-bars the other day. how fucked up is that? ' he punches the sequence E-9 into the keypad with practiced grace. snickerdoodle pop-tarts. ' pick whatever you want. it’s on me. ' and nancy’s very own five dollar bill, brandished openly in his hand.

#hit you w the punk tactics #s1euth #INTERACTION. klaus matthiesen.

locked out of my notes app and the only hint i left for myself was “you know”. baffled and perplexed ?????!

#if i knew then i literally wouldn’t be here. come ON past-makwa #if this pic is huge. sorry about it #i’m mobile for a change #ooc.

god of [war crimes]

#me when i slaughter a whole gathering of unarmed dark elves and escalate a timeless war into irreparable violence #AES. forseti.#the day i stop being lazy and start gifing actual interactions. it's over for all of you #flashing lights /

strnza

she's captivated the moment that firefox absconds whatever reluctance he's held until now, allowing his hands to meet her skin. he's warm to the touch, contrasting deeply against the ice in her veins, unmitigated in the way her pulse quickens beneath his fingertips.

'fish fucking' - always with the fish fucking. "you only say that because your little mind can't come up with anything better to say," eliza chides gently, no real malice in her tone; her heartbeat quickens as he traces over her bottom lip. with the weight of a discarded feather, she lifts herself to sit atop his knee; her own eyes flit between firefox's lips & his gaze, exhaling something between a defeated huff & whimper as he rescinds what could've been a desired kiss. (he's so fucking difficult, she could scream.) it takes a beat before she indulges his ferocity; "... i've kissed less savory company than you, with much less desire to." it's the honest truth, as detailed by the enunciated, deliberate tone shared between them. "i haven't survived this long by battin' my eyelashes at pretty sailors."

eliza swallows, then. there's a vulnerability in how she poises herself against him; one hand sinks along his torso, in the concave of his waist - whether it be plain desire or the entrapment of blackened eyes, she pleads to him; "i'm asking you to kiss me."

driedflwers

he pretends the hand at his waist does not belong to her. forever prefers a stranger’s touch ––– the way their fingers graze his ribs without trying to slip between them to uncover something softer underneath. and so he separates the person from the act, excising eliza’s soul from her body in order to make the vulnerability more tolerable. his free arm, deathly rigid when first she settled on his knee, deigns to relax. his palm hovers above the small of her back for a half-second longer before it resigns to impulse and rests against the dip of her spine.

' hm. ' the fox listens and, tamed halfway, leans in toward her lips ––– then past them, the taunt of a passing breath grazing the slant of her cheek. he stops at her ear, their bodies precariously close, and speaks in a low murmur. this, too, is more breath than not. ' if you drag me to the ocean and have me drowned, i will kill you. '

a brief moment of acknowledgement ––– an I KNOW YOU amongst all of the I KNOW YOU NOT. firefox angles her head upward with a persuasive push to the chin, exposing the flush of her neck, and kisses her just beneath the jaw. it is not small or chaste but warm and heady: a prelude to seduction / an act of consumption rather than an act of affection. wrong, he knows, to deal in twisted mercies and ill-gotten gains. wrong, he knows ––– and wrong he does. ( if things can go bad, why not indulge? )

#whatever’s going on here. it isn't normal #r/maliciouscompliance #no eliza he will Never do exactly what’s he’s told #INTERACTION. firefox.#strnza #suggestive /

rpmemes-galore

send me “eavesdrop” and my muse will describe your muse like they’re talking to a third party.

#YEAH ?!#stop pleaaaase let me do this im fbdgdgggdrrrrr #meme.

s1euth-archive-deactivated20240

she should have worn a thinner shirt, maybe a pair of shorts, the cute strappy sandals that sit in the back of her closet... so many choices for comfort, so why did she always try so hard to look professional? it's the overconfidence; her surety that this wasn't going to take too long left her with a trail of sweat down the back of her neck that made her want to run to the nearest air conditioned space. but she wasn't done here yet, and she wouldn't be unless until she could win klaus over. too bad her classic nancy drew charms had flown out the metaphorical window when the heat had overtaken her.

it was the same thing every time; 'that's classified information, nancy. this is a murder investigation, miss drew. i could lose my job!' if she had a nickel for all the times she had heard those same phrases, she would own the morgue by now. how was that for job security?

a heavy sigh fills the air between them, slipping past her lips as she reaches into her bag, shuffling things around until her wallet appears. the five dollar bill she chooses is worse for wear, but still legal tender, and she extends it klaus's way with a raised brow. "i hope this is for both our benefits..."

driedflwers

( how to gain the trust of a lab animal: separate the animal from the lab, at least on a conceptual level. hand it a five dollar bill and ––– ) klaus takes the bank note and, grinning broadly, turns toward the building. he stoops down at an awkward angle, pressing the identification badge clipped above his heart to a keypad on the wall. at the same time, he bats the ailing cigarette from his mouth and crushes it with the heel of his sneaker. well-coordinated multitasking. the lock beeps a one-note hello. he pulls the door open; the world shifts accordingly ( outside: balmy sun, hot pavement, car-speckled parking lot and a carless street / inside: glorification, mortification, mummification. )

led lights stain the tiles clinically white, illuminating a barren-looking hallway. air conditioning pours out into the day, tousling past the ends of his hair. he holds the door open with his back, one foot in / one foot out. ' speak friend and enter. ' a mirage of summer swims across his vision as his eyes adjust to the change in lighting; he blinks it away, wrinkling his nose. ' if anyone asks, you’re a computer salesman. ' as if a computer salesman’s been spotted since the palaeolithic period. as if half the staff hasn’t already dealt with nancy drew before.

#lotr reference anyone?#s1euth #trust me nancy baby #it'll be for at least one person's benefit...#INTERACTION. klaus matthiesen.

silcntsinners

Small starter for @driedflwers

The young lioness frowned as her brother had clearly broken her doll that she cherished since the day she could remember. Of course, myrcella didn’t play with dolls anymore but she also loved that one more than anything. It was a present from their uncle Jaime when she was small. He had brought it back from when he had left for months and months. She picked up the broken pieces before glaring at him, trying her best to keep her tears in.

“You’re so cruel Joffrey! Why would you do that?” She said with a frown as the girl kept her eyes on the broken toy. “I truly hate you. You’re awful…” she spat upset, the two often getting into fights behind closed doors because… /well/ it was joffrey.

driedflwers

' stop acting like such a child, ' spits one child at another. indignation flushes his cheeks pink / rage fills his mouth with the taste of roseless thorns and splintered stones. he points an accusatory finger squarely toward his sister’s chest, scowling. ' you’ve got a hundred more just like this one ––– and besides. you’re much too old to be playing with toys. '

the first thing a lion cub learns from its father is how to toy with its prey. joffrey swats the pieces from myrcella’s hands, sending them careening back down onto the floor between them. a shattered edge nicks the skin along his palm; blood seeps slowly to the surface, barely more than a graze. he squints critically at the angry red line. ' look what your stupid doll did now! i’m wounded. '

#oh thank you sm for this...#INTERACTION. joffrey baratheon.#keeping up w the baratheons #fullintenticns

if i had three wishes i’d demand that no one can ever ask me “what’re you writing” when i mention that i write as a hobby. fuck the other wishes you can keep ‘em

#“what’re you writing” tumblr rp bro. don’t ask stupid questions #ooc.#um?!

screenviolense

　　' i can't believe the groomers only service one kind of pokemon here! how do they expect to make any money if they only do furfrous? ' perhaps that was a bit dramatic, none of her pokemon really needed any special care, but it was more or less her job to sample all the cool and trendy locations other regions had to offer.

@driedflwers / underused muse starter call.

driedflwers

' ... truly an injustice. ' he’s sitting palm-to-cheek when she comes through the door; the moment her voice blares across the waiting room, he angles his head to cover one ear instead. a subtle slight. a furfrou pants at his feet, not a single care in the world / not a single thought behind those fringe-obscured eyes. ( mars’ latest venture: i’m a dog person now! ) something about the alignment of the stars. he sinks further into his seat, still deigning only to talk past her rather than at her ––– or, gods forbid, with her. ' they seem to be doing just fine without your consumership. there’s more furfrous here than there are people in the entire city. '

#me when i fail at world destruction and retire at the ripe age of [mid-twenties]#INTERACTION. saturn.#screenviolense #god thank you for this #tumblr rpc sleeping on the pokemon universe

@s1euth * . let me write you a starter.

it’s june in america and he hates going outside. the air boils and the breeze boils and the trees shake off their clumps of pollen. he leans against the morgue’s back door, and the metal burning through his shirt feels like it’s boiling, too. klaus squints up at the sky, cigarette held loosely between his lips. smoke peels off the end of it and becomes the only cloud for miles around. nancy’s saying something, but she’s fighting for his attention against a sparrow shrieking a song from some distant roof. he exhales sharply and mumbles past the filter; the cigarette glows orange in protest. ' you’re breakin’ my heart, nance. whaddyou mean this isn’t a social call? '

she’s trying to convince him of the impossible, so emphatically and with such determination in her eyes that he just about thinks she's right. it’s her reasoning that’s wrong ––– not her motivation. klaus looks back down at her, shrugging loosely. in the pocket of his lab coat, he fidgets with the flint wheel of a purple lighter. ( it’s june in america, nancy drew. what does the world look like to you? ) ' can’t tell you anything, no matter what. ––––– eh, completely unrelated: you happen to have five bucks on you? '

#this is sooo camp tbh #thank you for this idea #s1euth #INTERACTION. klaus matthiesen.#give him the five dollars:) do it

poaeise

two glasses sit between them, barely touched. forgotten in the conversation. and maybe it's the day creeping in, or the walk down memory lane —- maybe it's just because lucy trusts him, but there's a vulnerability here: the sort of ache that can only be made apparent with someone who understands why it's there in the first place. he brings back memories long buried deep in the recesses of what's left of her heart , locked away in a chest wrapped in barb wire and hidden deep. anything to keep its contents from spilling. yet he manages to pick that lock with one sentence alone. a smile, then. and she meets his eyes. her words quiet. ❛ mm, unfortunately, you're a little late on that, i'm afraid. i already do. ❜

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓. i'll find the meme later. ❛ you will blame yourself, most of all.❜ / something something something guilt about vampirism and feeding on the living something something. sent for alucard and lucy. from @driedflwers !

driedflwers

' we are all, in the end, slaves to our own nature. ' the body cannot help itself, and the body is sorry. adrian turns his glass; the candlelight refracts this way and that, ricocheting off crystal and limning lucy's skin red. he does not drink from it ( his, perennial sweet wine / hers, something dark and earthy ) ––– nor will he. present conversation aside, it seems entirely faux to taunt her situation by indulging in fruits so fascinatingly mortal as grapes. he smiles, something wistful dulling the golds of his eyes. dying is a recreational act: a cycle of losing yourself and finding yourself ... forever and always. he'd take her by the hand, if he thought it would help her find her way. instead, he continues to twist his glass in a full-moon circle. ' don’t blame yourself. at their core, humans and vampires aren’t really so different: each does whatever they need to do to survive. ' and then some.

#oh theyre so dramatic #can someone please introduce them to uber eats or netflix or something so they don't spend their nights philosophizing #INTERACTION. alucard.#poaeise

memesomething

send me an ask that starts "Write me a starter where..." & a plot idea for our muses.

there's no guarantee this will result in receiver writing a starter, but it helps to get plot gears moving! (reverse meme)

#yeah ok fuck it i’ll bite #kind of insane meme tbh. slay #meme.

heireign-deactivated20231026

“ not so far removed , lady . my half brother, did not fail to point out the deception of mine own. or fail to speak of you, “ oh how easy must it be to disavow all they had spoken of her as mere idle chatter ; the cruelty of men was a beast rhaenyra targaryen knew all too well — the entitlement that would sever and break bone as it would try and break her own will ( they liked nothing more than to shed each other’s blood in pursuit of power. honor and compassion burnt to ash should a woman seek to step over what they believed was their place, and reach for it . ) wars were fought for it , wars had been fought because of it. yet there is more to what the realm whispers then mere rumor; and the black queen cares naught for talks of magic, as much as she does the whispers of the kinslayer. though he has fallen , they have spoken of both alys and aemond as being far closer then she was like to let on. yet it is then rhaenyra smiles , and it is all teeth — sharp and deadly. indeed they should . “ to legitimize you as it’s lawful regent ; entitled to all of the lands and holdings such a position would give — though as you’ve said , you are the last to whom it may belong to by birth right . do you not deny to whom you have sided ? “ she cared little for the specifics of her manner of birth ; cared only for the subject of treason . if rhaenyra could truly trust the woman who was petitioning for control of harrenhal. bastard or no, it was a simple thing to legitimize her. “ i will not have swords gathering at my back . swear to me now , it shall placate you, and swear anew to me as your lawful queen – and it shall be yours . “ @driedflwers

driedflwers

' i do not deny the truth: that i, sole survivor of your lord brother’s massacre of harrenhal, did whatsoever needed to be done to secure mine own safety. ' as she has always done. as she will always do. as she is doing now, manoeuvring the short-comings of her station with carefully practiced grace. as all women must. ( the story of alys rivers will pass through history in a hundred different ways, in a hundred different voices. each will tell a half-truth and a whole lie. ) with every passing word, she tailors the image of herself ––– she, accursed woods witch / prophetess and temptress who lay with a dragon green of scale ––– to better fit the image the black queen sees when she looks into a mirror. not in form nor deed, for to these she always remains true, but in perception. ' seduction is merely encouraging a man to do something he already wants to do, your grace. it is neither a matter of love nor loyalty. '

alys unfolds her hands to reveal a ring loosely palmed. ( in one tale, she’d worn it all the while and slipped it from her finger / in another, an attendant watching curiously from the corner of the room could have sworn that there had been no ring until she’d produced it from the thin of the air. ) it gleams faintly in the light, a plain band made ornary by its elegant craftsmanship ––– valyrian steel, dark and dangerous. she offers it to rhaenyra, smiling sombrely. ' he gifted me this ring . . . i believe it once belonged to your father. i return it to you now as a gesture of my good faith ––– as a symbol of my fealty to you, the rightful and reigning queen of the seven kingdoms. '

#alys intentionally Not mentioning the aemond marriage and their child together…..#snakey behaviour</3 #heireign #on the other hand #um #girl power!#INTERACTION. alys rivers.

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⁽ ⁱ. ⁾ 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚,