# 𝐖𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃. an independent and selective multimuse for various canon characters from literature, video games and television. mostly source-compliant, with a preference for entertaining myself. affiliated heavily with 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘯. following for pinfalles, d0wnsince and erasurae.
𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐊. 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄. 𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐈𝐌. 𝐆𝐌𝐓.
muses include - jaime lannister, lucien o'donnell, dane bunsky, david wong, jack merridew, inspector irratino, dirk strider, mituna captor, tagora gorjek, mallek adalov, vyvyan basterd, shawn spencer, dennis carslile, billy loomis, chad meeks-martin, sir daniel fortesque, verso, jamie tartt, roy kent, sam obisanya, mike hanlon, richie tozier.
BEHIND THE BLOG: i’m dirk, 25, he/him! i’ve been writing on tumblr on/off since early 2013. i took a while out, but now i’m back. don’t forget youre here forever
THE BASICS: no force shipping, no godmodding, etc. i reserve the right to unfollow, drop threads, not follow back, etc. i’m mutually exclusive and memes/starter calls are for mutuals only.
USUAL DNI CRITERIA APPLIES. no bigots or other such weird freaks. i'm a grown man and i'm sick of having to make 'don't be racist, homophobic or transphobic' clear
I’M OF AGE but don’t write smut. all other nsfw content is canon typical and will be written, but i will tag everything appropriately.
PASSWORDS: rule passwords tend to spike my anxiety, but i read rules before i follow.
ICONS: i have a full time job so frankly i will not be using them. i’ve always been terrible at graphics though so i’m doing us all a favour
SHIPPING is fine by me! please note i am exclusive with headlinemakers' iterations of characters, which goes for shipping & general interaction. if you share muses with lev on your multi, that's fine! i just won't write with those specific characters. all i ask is do not be a weirdo you’ll be blocked. i’ll always prefer to develop a ship before jumping right in, so please don’t hesitate to shoot me a message.
"sure. i get that." and he does. he's fortunate enough to have people around who want the best from him, but that doesn't mean they aren't placing expectations on him nonetheless. and he tries not to make others' decisions for them, but that doesn't mean he succeeds. "that's just people, though. we're all looking for things we need in each other. or things we think we need." people are really good at thinking they know what they need, he's found. probably just makes the expectations worse. "you have time to figure out what to do."
despite himself, the wolf bares smiling teeth. "still a role." he likes to turn circles on himself when he feels he's right, snatch at his own tail no matter how out of reach it is. "even if i got time to figure out how to play it. still got given one 'fore i could ask." maybe the real answer is somewhere between, or the answer isn't real at all. everything here needs to come with some sort of seal of approval, tucked neat into an envelope or sliced through a layer of an iceberg. talking to mark is far more open for interpretation. "go 'head, turner. what do you think you need from me?"
wears the uniform of those filled with wonder when she all but curls up at his side ⎯⎯⎯ takes the shape of a young child listening to their favourite bedtime story with raw and naked wonder. mouths along as if she knows the next words spoken, or if she has read this tale before. presses cheek to his shoulder, and hopes that it's enough to convey how entranced she is. ❝ you have to be joking ! ❞ breathes out the words in a hushed tone, wide eyed and gullible. listens in the same way she does when william talks about his travels. holds her breath with fright in the same way too. jumps up at the mention of breathing fire, palms of her hand against his cheek, her forehead to his. ❝ good sir, you simply have to show me ! i want to breathe fire too. how dare you keep this a secret from me, you should have told me as soon as we met ! ❞
he's really gone and done it now. even when dan's tales are true, they're tall, and when wonderment is the goal vicki will always charge in headfirst. "blimey," he squeaks, an under-his-breath sort of thing - he can't well tell her that this is the most he's been thrown around since the time machine in north london, can he? - and steadies them both before they tumble like imps through the grass. "rest easy, miss! i wasn't trying to keep it from you, swear it. i don't have the scales on me, that's all, and you need them to get the thing done." he could take her to his mausoleum, he supposes, though the questions he'd have to field would be a right nightmare. "i'll bring them next time, eh?"
takes little personally these days, even less so the whims of men. left that behind on the deck of the ship where she took her brother's eye ⎯⎯⎯ cut out every last shred of care with the same blade. ❝ you are quite full of yourself if you think i would even care, ❞ bats her eyelashes now, even when the act of it is as empty as a grave of a sailor lost at sea. it all comes down to play pretend and finding out who is better at hiding weapons underneath their clothes at the end. ❝ but i am not in the business of buying a round for people who hate me. so i imagine i am saving coin tonight. ❞
"there are worse people to be full of." jaime has no interest in flattering her - if it's a willing cock she's after, he'll find tyrion and whatever gaggle of misfits he's stolen away with and offer her up to join the fun. the golden son is more suited to sulking, he finds, looking down a sober nose at the rest of the room and smiling coy when he hears them spit at his feet. "spare yourself the gold and the breath. you want to prove yourself generous, i'm sure there are beggars and whores that are far more worthy recipients of both."
treats his words as gospel. drinks deep from wisdom she is certain she will never possess but is eager for all the same. turns her head now to look at him fully ; pulled from the comfort of daydreams when presented with tales that are as true to her as the sky and sea. ❝ a talker ?! ❞ gasps in childish delight as if she has been presented with a fine new dress or a chocolate cake of three tiers high ! ❝ i did not know dragons could talk, none of the books mentioned this. oh, how exciting ! ❞ is quick to grab his hand. to hold it as if the act alone could somehow make the dragon appear in the sky again for her to see. ❝ come on then, give me all the details. leave nothing out. if dragons are able to talk, i must know what else they can that the books never mentioned. ❞
"oh, heck," dan hums, mostly amusement for amusement's sake. vicki is a sweet creature, all over an untouched sort of beauty. he's less ragged than he once was, more worthy now of being sir dan than when he'd first risen, and just brainy enough to keep the stories of his misadventures breathable. "they do an awful lot of sleeping, mostly. at least, this one did, when he wasn't rabbiting on." dragons are an easier pill to swallow than rotting corpses and cruel sorcerers, though he has no doubts he could dress zarok up as something fanciful for her, if she ever asked. "sometimes they'll give you scales, if you're very lucky. wore a good few as armour for a bit." he grins, leans close as if to share a secret, "and breathed fire with it. hurt my tongue a bit, but it was a nice kind of party trick."
@headlinemakers 𝗱𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗮. ‘the more i try to believe, the more suspicious i get.’
"alright," daniel says flatly, doing his level best not to lose his patience. his stiff jaw and creaking hinges do nothing to make him seem any more living than his talking does, and yet it all seems to collapse in on him the more people pop out of the sky. isn't it bad enough that the townsfolk themselves are crawling back up out of their graves alongside him without him also having to run a bloody daycare? "let me tell you this; we don't even have running water yet. you can't expect a people that won't invent a proper loo for another few monarchies to create something as impressive as this." he gestures to himself at the same moment his wrist joint slips. with a fumble, he shoves the blasted thing back in and coughs needlessly to cover it. "i really am dead, swear it. well, a bit. not really right now. but i was! before you lot got here, that is."
@hatigave 𝗱𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗲. Young, dumb, and cute; nothing to lose.
the best thing about sailors, dan finds, is that they hardly stick around long enough for him to much care about what he tells them. the drinking halls are fuller for all of a night, perhaps two, and his merriment spreads like diluted watercolour, touching each and every alewet face (and even some that are too stiff yet to drink, tight-lipped and obeyful, eyes dark at the men they cannot breathe with on land). "aye aye!" the soldier cheers, raising a cask far enough above his head that the foam splashes hard against the wood of the table. "precious nobody to lose it to, innit? not in places like this, where all the town's asleep by eight."
@hatigave 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗺. Am I too old to blame my dad?
"who else is there?" a dry and bitter joke, but humour all the same. the liar shifts in his seat just so, eyes heavy across the room, like he'll find someone there to lay the accusation at. verso is no stranger to the gnawing injustice of fathers, to looking himself in the face and knowing more than he knows much else that he is made in that same image no matter what he was originally sketched to be. they share so much more than stern expressions and mirrored scars. he raises his cup to willem, delicate fingers curled deep into the worn wood. "do dead men drink? toast with me. i may even share my wine."
@headlinemakers 𝗱𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗮. ‘heh. chicken, are you?’
"no!" despite his protests, he bloody squawks like one. daniel snatches all of his limbs back as best he can, wrenching his forearm out of her grasp and clattering right away with it. blast, he wishes he could still frown! this half-mockery of a skeletal face does nothing for his general righteous indignation. he waggles the rescued hand at her, pointing one finger so he can be at two-arms' length. "human bloke, actually. twice removed. what are you?"
tips back her head to rest it on his shoulder. ignores the unwritten rules that tie her down to the earth, for she has been lucky enough to see a shooting star once ! moves her fingers through the air, but catches no butterflies or fairies alike ⎯⎯⎯ can still imagine what it would be like for one to land on the back of her hand all the same. ❝ do you think there were ever dragons here ? ❞ has heard stories, and has followed the thread through countless books containing language too far outside her grasp. likes the ones with drawings most ! ❝ if there were, i would quite like for them to return. it must be wonderful to ride one. ❞
"'course there was, love." the mean old dragon that lived west of gallowmere is long dead, it's true, but sir dan remembers him well - remembers killing the bleeder, that is, all the dancing around and chucking hammers at cracks in the ceiling. served him right for trying to cook dan in his boots. even he senses that telling the little beauty the truth of his adventure would be a bit much for her, and lying's always been more fun, anyway. "i once- ah, i heard a story." he looks less dead than he did, once, the bleach-white of his bone tucked once again behind waxy skin, his missing eye hidden beneath a thick thatch of hair he'd delighted in regrowing, but his mouth threatens to give him away half the time. "of a dragon with terrible nerves when it came to leaving his cave. a talker, he was, despite it all."
lion reaches out a lax, waving paw. "i'd hate for you to take it personally." how else is he to get by in nests of vipers like this one, if not exactly how his father taught him; anyone that isn't us is the enemy. jaime has been told by many a mouth and more smirking faces that he isn't the brightest in his family line, doubts his ability to talk around those who do seldom else, and so the haughty disinterest he's coveted since he was six and ten feels like the safest place of all to land. "i don't oft leave anywhere with new friends."
@headlinemakers 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝘁. I'm transforming and realigning.
"oh, aye?" the young knight knows so much of theoretical reinvention. the real stuff is all a bit big for him, thanks, a bit too heavy on effort and light on winesodden nights of revelry from what he's heard. young tommy has been on some sort of self-discovery nonsense for almost as long as dan's known him, and he's just as miserable as he's always seemed. "sure that's a lot of fancy writing in your leather books, innit? speculating and all of that malarkey. is it easier with a bit of liquid courage in you, then?"
