dacelonovae

[dacelonovae]

Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

[dacelonovae]

allegedly.

dialogue prompts from allegedly by tiffany d. jackson.

are you hungry? can i get you anything to eat?

no one's ever bothered to explain anything to me.

i don't know why god does a lot of things.

don't ask questions and keep praying.

no house where you fear for your life can be considered a home.

we shouldn't let good wine go to waste.

your feelings are showing.

where'd you get the money? did you steal it?

it's okay to cry, you know. you can cry in front of me.

i don't cry.

i've been waiting my whole life to meet you.

i googled you.

it's easier to keep an animal into cage than to play with it.

you think i'd let anything happen to you?

i always feel better when you're around.

don't ever let anyone stop you from bettering yourself.

you scared of change? good. change is scary. get used to it.

who really knows what they're doing, with a baby?

do you love your parents?

what does it mean when you love and hate someone at the same time?

what's your favorite childhood memory?

i almost didn't recognize you.

you look at me like you're happy i'm alive.

you know i love you, right?

haste makes waste.

what kind of trouble is worse than what i'm in now?

you're the first one i've told the whole story to.

you don't have to tell me about your life, if you don't want.

if something happens, you won't leave me, right?

no one is nice for no reason.

something doesn't feel right.

are they mistreating you? you can tell me. just say yes or no.

what's it like, having a dad? a real dad?

go on. it's okay. i'm here with you.

role reversal could be good for us here.

why do you do what you do?

i forget, sometimes, how young you are.

you ever been pregnant?

where's your mama? it's dangerous out here.

i'm getting us the hell out of here. no matter what.

cut the crap. you were never a good liar.

what are you thinking up in there?

you're different. i saw that from the very first day.

i didn't get you anything.

you really believe me, don't you?

it was no accident. it was fate.

'i'm sorry' doesn't seem like enough.

maybe i never knew you at all.

you think i'm going to hurt you, don't you?

i just hate surprises, that's all.

you're as far away as the moon.

you were trying to tell me something, and i didn't listen.

when can i see you again?

promise me you'll fight. that you won't give up.

i had a lot of dark thoughts about you.

that's my biggest regret: not taking more pictures.

i knew something was wrong. i felt it.

i wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me.

it just happened. it was nobody's fault.

we're all too broken to be fixed.

i want to hate ____, but i can't.

all that i am is what you have molded.

i want to remember the details.

i'll be good. i'll be better.

[dacelonovae]

"an out of place crewmember on a small janky spaceship" hey tell me about this immediately

it was off that thing someone was planning on concorde... i forget who.... about just throwing a bunch of muses into a spaceship together or something. the logistics scared me off but i kept thinking about the context in which someone like annaleise would find herself in that situation and have basically only come up with two key scenes which are basically just

this lady with really long hair and high heels comes on this shitty secondhand ship as a new employee and everyone already there is immediately like. what the fuck is this persons problem. does she even know where she is. and they kind of make snide comments behind her back and she gets snippy with them really easy

annaleise's (long, loose) hair catches fire somehow and after the initial panic of putting it out she starts crying like a Lot and is obviously really really upset about this so the crew kind of realize like, oh she's actually going through some stuff huh....on second thought we probably should have known that some fancy lady isn't going to take a job like this of her own volition.... so then they start being nicer to her and trying to like, meet her in the middle wrt aesthetics and practicality and trying to be more patient while teaching her The Ways Of The Ship

[dacelonovae]

my muses fit into three categories:

fancy sad men

pretty girl

natanael

[dacelonovae]

💋 i think your astarion and my g'raha should kiss somehow. right now, actually.

He has been watching the group for a while, now.

Each and every one of them is more than meets the eye, that is certain, carrying themselves in a self-assured way that contrasts with the habitual business and tired familiarity of the rest of the inn's patrons. But one member of the group interests him in particular -- the lone shock of red hair standing out, the tip of his tail calmly twitching from side to side.

Astarion prides himself in his ability to read people, but this one is a puzzle he can't quite put together. He looks young, and there's an air of restlessness about him that matches his appearance; but there is something else there, as well. An...attentiveness. A depth that Astarion can't help but be curious about.

So when the figure finally parts from his group to speak to the woman at the counter, Astarion abandons his untouched flagon and follows suit, stepping up alongside him.

The moment his business with the proprietress is finished, Astarion slides his hand over to take the strangers', and lift it up to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to his fingers.

"Hello there, darling," he--well--purrs. "Who might you be?"

[dacelonovae]

💋 sorry emet is getting a kissy from poyoyo actually. they'll climb up him if they have to

There's a tug at his overcoat, and he looks down to see the lalafell standing on their toes, head tilted up and lips pursed expectantly.

He stares down at them with a blank look of disbelief. Why he should comply with such a request, he can't even begin to fathom. And yet...

Their steady insistence is so horrifically familiar.

He sighs to no one in particular, and kneels down, tilting his head towards them, and they place a noisy *SMOOCH* on his face.

All these years and he hadn't managed to grow resistant to their requests.

[dacelonovae]

( x ) @byteing The Exarch makes a pained, breathless sound that could be a laugh. It isn’t that he’s unaffected or unafraid. He hurts more than he thought a soul could hurt, and he fears and dreads the coming torment more with each passing moment. He laughs only because he is past crying, and because Emet-Selch asks the impossible of him yet again. He must seem close to breaking, he thinks. Perhaps he is. But he will endure. He has endured much pain already, long before Emet-Selch, though it was of a different kind. He cannot fail now. He closes his eyes, shutting out the Ascian and the deep, quiet realm around them. Thinks of the Warrior, moments before the searing pain in his back, his name on their lips. It isn’t enough to drown out the pain, the blood, the bruising that seems to cover every inch of him now—but it’s a welcome reminder that he cannot give the Ascian what he wants. “You know my answer,” he says, as calmly as he can. It’s the first time he’s spoken in a while, at least coherently. There has been screaming in the awful moments where he couldn’t swallow it down. His throat still hurts from it. He wonders if Emet-Selch enjoys inflicting pain or if he is as bored as he looks: if this is simply a means to an end for him, with no particular benefit other than the result. “What would you do with it, if I told you?” A feeble attempt at delaying the next onslaught of injuries, perhaps—but a worthwhile question, nonetheless.

Emet-Selch's eyebrow quirks when the Exarch speaks. He is perhaps surprised--or impressed, or irritated--at the fact that the creature still has the presence of mind to speak clearly, and yet still won't answer his one simple question. But whatever emotion it is quickly fades into a dull backdrop of ambivalence.

That is, until the next question is raised. Before he is wholly aware of his actions, he waves an arm and sends the Exarch flying backwards into a wall with a dull thud, something altogether more persistent gnawing its way into his mind.

What would you do with it?

His steps are unhurried as he walks over to his victim, collapsing onto the floor. His posture, his expression, neither seem to change -- but a cold fire is burning behind his eyes now as the Exarch's quest rises to his mind. A calamity, a massacre. The death of his friends, his comrades--

The death of his shining, guiding star.

Emet-Selch crouches and takes the Exarch's jaw in his hand, pulling him upright to meet his eyes.

How is it that these mockeries of personhood managed to do what he could not, not in a thousand thousand years?

"The same thing you did," he says with mock gentleness, an edge to his voice that he cannot smooth out.

How is it that he managed to bring them back?

"Set things right."

[dacelonovae]

Send me 💋 to receive a new year’s kiss from my muse!

[dacelonovae]

i too am attached to symphanie KJNSDFJKSNDF

[dacelonovae]

ffxiv really is just an oc maker that happens to be prepackaged with a jrpg mmo. after playing it for long enough you automatically sign a waiver saying you are now emotionally attached to this jrpg protagonist you made up. and you are

[dacelonovae]

[formshaper]

"No-one ever likes Eilistraee's Lament." Vates sits dejectedly next to Astarion, pointed chin resting in their hands. Even their tufted ears are drooping. "I really thought it would set the mood!"

Astarion sighs a long-suffering sigh, and places a heavy hand on Vates' back.

"I don't think it was the song, dear," he says, deeply hoping he's not going to have to go into further detail with this explanation. "Rather--the situation in which you, er...inserted yourself."

He winces, immediately. Of course that's the word that came to mind, but that didn't mean he had to say it out loud.

[dacelonovae]

I feel like this a really important thing I don’t see enough dialogue on, but as a multimuse blog, you don’t have to be fully familiar with a muse or their fandom to interact with them. I’m entirely comfortable with AUs, or plotting things out if it takes a little extra effort. if you see someone who looks interesting or promising but don’t know the fandom? fine, let’s plot an au. know the fandom but not the muse because it’s too expansive? cool - we can also work with that & plot around it. just come here & let us love on you - no judgment.

[dacelonovae]

THIS ISN'T WHAT I WANTED

[dacelonovae]

( x ) @formshaper There's a sort of scoffing laugh, like Astarion either doesn't quite believe him or at the very least doesn't quite believe someone can be like him. "So you just, what, sit back and soak up people's innermost thoughts like a sponge?" His smile is sly, sharp. There's a game here, some kind of trick. He's sure of it. "Well. As much as I'd love to let you listen to me talk at you all evening, darling..." He shifts, leaning a little closer to both Natanael and the dying firelight, weight mostly resting on one arm. His eyes don't leave his companion. To an observer, Astarion might be the picture of eager seduction: leaning into Natanael's space, opening up his body language, inviting him in. "Truth be told, I was hoping you and I might do more than just... talk, tonight."

It feels like every hair on his body stands up as the shiver of--whatever it is, completely overtakes him. He's gotten used to Astarion flirting with him, as well as Astarion flirting with everyone else around him, and was content to have even the meaningless attention from such an astonishingly beautiful man.

But he never thought it would...that Astarion actually thought anything of him, much less wanted to act on any of the things he was saying. Is it just him? Or is he going around to everyone in the camp doing this? Is there something he sees in Natanael, in particular?

He abruptly closes his mouth upon realizing it's been hanging open, and though he's thankful for his gray skin disguising the ferocious blush heating his face, he's sure Astarion doesn't need to see him actually turn red to know how he feels about the proposition.

"Oh!" he says, stupidly. And then swallows, desperately trying to get his wits about him. This isn't really his thing. He knows himself well enough to envision the emotional attachment he'll develop, and likes to think he knows Astarion well enough to understand the minuscule chance of reciprocity on that front. He's probably just...

Wait, why is he doing this?

Finally, Natanael's senses come back enough to recall the chain of events that brought them here. The abrupt shift in conversation. How Natanael had only barely prodded into Astarion's inner thoughts, and how drastically (and successfully!) he had been steered away from that particular line of inquiry.

...is Astarion trying to seduce him in place of simply saying 'I don't want to talk about that'? Surely not.

Surely not, right?

"I don't...erm. I, er...Why?"

Oh, yeah. Smooth. On second thought, maybe they should never speak again, actually.

[dacelonovae]

[formshaper]

"I think that plant is poisonous, whatever it's for," says Vates pleasantly, pointing at the little bunch of mistletoe hanging over his and Astarion's heads. "So you probably shouldn't touch it. I guess there's no risk of you eating it, though..."

Astarion laughs, amiably--though with just an edge of superiority, the amusement of someone being completely clueless. It's mostly lost its shine with Vates at this point, really, with how little he seems to understand and how unbothered he is by this fact. But not entirely.

"An excellent observation, my dear," he says, first. "You certainly shouldn't eat it--though I can't say what effect it would have on you."

Then he steps closer, placing a hand on Vates' back. "But it is part of a lovely tradition."

With that, he leans forward and places a kiss on the corner of their mouth.

It's genuinely fun, playing this little game with them, which Astarion never would have expected. Vates is so utterly immune to his insinuations and manipulations that the practical effect of it is entirely lost. Which just leaves the simple act of being flirtatious, for no reason but its own sake. And he does so love playing that part.

[dacelonovae]

"Was I meant to let it close on me?" she retorted, feathers quite literally ruffled. "Pardon my expectation that these halls should be well maintained."

She stood up on her hind legs, bracing her front paws against the door as if she might see a solution from there. And then simply let out the yowl of a trapped cat, deciding that a rescue was their most likely option.

@dacelonovae asked: Tara @ Gale: "What do you mean the door's stuck? Try jiggling the handle." // Gale where have you trapped yourself and this poor thumbless lady

"What do you think I'm doing, Tara?" Gale asked in exasperation, jiggling the handle of the closet again. "It's stuck."

Of all the times to not have a knock spell prepared. Although he wasn't certain if the door was locked so much as jammed.

"I did tell you not to let it close behind you, yes?"

[dacelonovae]

( x ) @ruinedbycatastrophe

Astarion scoffed, not bothering to hide his derision at the concept that there were good and bad people in this world. As far as he was concerned, the only distinction was who was on the sharp end of the knife. "Oh, please, am I supposed to ask if they've fed any orphans lately before I make them sweat?"