#totallynotamalkavian

[totallynotamalkavian]

Do you remember the hollow of my chest?

The decay bloomed under your care,

I wonder if the beauty of dead flowers would make you hunger.

[malkavian-shrink]

Pros and Cons of Dating my Muse

Name: Irres Wilder

Race:  Kindred

Sexuality: Complicated.

Pros:

You get access to one of the best havens you could hope for. Granted, it is a badly funded, creepy and probably haunted mental asylum, but consider: it has its own surveillance and warding systems, limitless access to both fresh and preserved blood, sect independence, noone asks any invasive questions and there are many cats to pet. Who would hope for more?

Excellent conversation partner. He might be insane, but he's well-read.

Fiercely protective. He can (and will) kill for you, and make it look like karma.

His love language is providing acts of service. You may ask anything you want from him and he'll make it happen.

He'll shower you in comforts and cosiness.

He's a skilled cellist and violinist.

Has a collection of rare records, tapes and movies you wouldn't be able to get your hands on otherwise.

He has a good sense of humor. Most of the time.

You can be as weird as you want around him. He's weirder than you anyway.

You can ask anything you like from him in bed and he'll be happy to oblige. Since he's asexual, sex doesn't really matter to him, so if he does it it is for your pleasure, not his.

You will never be bored with him. There's just too many of him to hang around with.🙂

Cons:

Clinically insane. Wildly unpredictable, unstable and dangerous. He's not fun to be around when his mental illnesses are acting up.

He's not above diablerie. In fact, if he truly loves you, chances are he will try to diablerize you. He'll feel horrible about it afterwards, but still, better to avoid being eaten.

He's not good with expressing intense emotions or being the receipient thereof. If overwhelmed, he'll go straight into frenzy or fugue.

He can be surprizingly unfeeling, unempathetic and violent wthout a warning.

His sense of humor can be as big of a liability as much as an asset. Beware.

He instinctively knows all the ways you can be annoyed and he might attempt pushing your buttons for fun.

He's humming to himself incessantly. Cannot stop. Will not stop.

There's just TOO MANY of him. You will never know him or his intentions truly.

He has masochistic tendencies, which are caused by a deeply-rooted guilt for his condition. He refuses to acknowledge them.

He has utter disregard for his own wellbeing and might put himself in extreme danger just to prove a point or to execute a prank.

He might disappear from your life without a word and still think it's normal.

Tagged by:  stole it from @secvndus

Tagging:  @a-crack-in-the-mirror @tremere-knight @mystical-sun @big-fang-andrei @rotten-ash @princelacroix @fleetfooted-mercurio @uselesscaitiff @totallynotamalkavian @of-enormous-girth @nines-armando-rodriguez

[totallynotamalkavian]

The Hands of Claws howl and prowl, finding power in the surrender.

—TotallyNotAMalkavian, from a poem titled "The Clans"

[totallynotamalkavian]

The Blood that was consumed hungers, for knowledge can be exhumed to perfection.

—TotallyNotAMalkavian, from a poem titled "The Clans"

[totallynotamalkavian]

The Head that Wears The Crown is molded by it, is it made by demanding belonging or precise longing?

—TotallyNotAMalkavian, from a poem titled "The Clans"

[totallynotamalkavian]

Bleeding becomes beneficial by breaking bellowed belongings.

Exquisitely expelling extremes, eternal ephemeral enlightenment.

[totallynotamalkavian]

Monster,

Believe me when I say,

Memory is how the fire burns,

Feelings become a wedding gown,

My love

For you

Extinguishes me before I drown,

The wheel crushes me as it turns,

Hold me as I pray,

Savior

[totallynotamalkavian]

The Rabble take note of every injustice, like keeping score is a a sacred fury.

—TotallyNotAMalkavian, from a poem titled "The Clans"

[totallynotamalkavian]

Whispered, Wandering, Wailing, Waning.

The teacup, the treasurer, the tally mark, the train.

Ready, Reeling, Rules, Rain.

So somber, so still, so sincere, so staining.

[totallynotamalkavian]

Can we talk about the way your lines curve, in the face of hard edges?

Can we mourn the way light hits your skin, like a memory of a kiss goodbye?

[totallynotamalkavian]

Alright my very wise and even more so mad friend, I am undecided if I should get a rainbow budgie (blue bird with no markings and a yellow head) or lutino budgie which I have been looking for many years for (a yellow bird with no markings and Red eyes)? Oh great receiver of knowledge via whispers, what do you think I should get? Ps. More hugs your way from I!

I think you should keep an ear out for the sound of a glowing soul, leave the longing for particular colours by the door. The more we treat beings like things, the more that becomes all they are, and when we are so long gone already it pays to cherish glimpses of hearted moments!

I would ask you not to call me mad, Rainbow Collector, but it is your opinion to cultivate I suppose... I hear the discordant cacophony of all that ever was, is, or will be, through the lense that my blood made just for me. I don't believe that makes me mad, even if it means I suffer greatly because of the fog I'm lost in.

P.S I don't need any more tangling of limbs, my flesh is comfortably cold for the time being, thank you, dear guest!

[totallynotamalkavian]

The Moon whispers to things lost and forgotten, all that grows in a long dead garden.

—TotallyNotAMalkavian, from a poem titled "The Clans"

[totallynotamalkavian]

Belligerent bellows, the balling brutal boy.

Fresh feelings, the fruitful feigning foy.

Tongue taken, the tolling truthful toy.

[totallynotamalkavian]

The Roses call out for something awe-inspiring, just to be seen or is it felt?

—TotallyNotAMalkavian, from a poem titled "The Clans"

[totallynotamalkavian]

The Dwellers of the Deep miss some things and know many others, finding highs in that which is kept close.

—TotallyNotAMalkavian, from a poem titled "The Clans"

[totallynotamalkavian]

An unexpected arrival, or a planned meeting?

Were you expecting me, or was I expecting you?

Did we get lost, or are we exactly where we need to be?

Do you know where any of the lines are?

If you want to stay, I suppose I will too.

Maybe we can uncover the delights of not knowing, together?

---------------------------------------------------

[Image description: A view from a hallway, there's an archway into a small lounge space. The main source of light is a plain lamp on a coffee table, but there is something around the corner giving a blue glow to the wall on the right. There is a chair facing away from the viewer towards the source of blue light, and a painting on the wall. There is a bookshelf with a clock, various books, photos and trinkets. Text at the top of the image reads: "How did you get here?...How did I get here?" Text at the bottom reads: "...Are we gone? Should we stay?"]