[favoriteache]

MULTI-MUSE BLOG. AS WRITTEN BY EVE (25). characters. guidelines. memes.

semi-hiatus until mid-june.

[favoriteache]

one-month semi-hiatus incoming! my sena trip is approaching rapidly heeeee

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tw3 dlc TW3 DLC???? maybe god isnt dead yet

[favoriteache]

one-month semi-hiatus incoming! my sena trip is approaching rapidly heeeee

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someone get the doomed yuris away from me i beg

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whoever made all my drafts ten paragraphs long, i just want to talk

[baldursgte-arc]

@favoriteache / cont.

anxiety & doubt could only be swallowed down so many times before one begins to choke on it. nerves were easier to shake when they had not been so close to the finish line. making it back here from that drop onto the beach with this parasite in her skull had seemed like such a distant prospect. a dream. so much had happened since then. so much that zaelun could find distractions within. the emerald grove & the occupants that needed saving, a githyanki creche that held disappointment rather than hope, a land to rid of a curse. now, the chosen three. the blood of one stains her hands. defeating ketheric thorm had not been an easy feat. her body still feels riddled with exhaustion from the battle, but she must press forward despite it all.

the city awaits the both of them. a terrifying thought. the last time she had been this close, she had been fleeing with nothing more than the clothes on her back, one less horn, & a tarnished reputation. counsellor florrick has promised her a clean slate should she succeed in saving duke ravengard. she has no interest in a clean slate if she does not find the one who betrayed her to begin with. the need for vengeance stirs within, though it is not only for herself. cazador szarr remains top of her list. astarion's freedom means more to her than her own. she will not let him remain in fear of the shadows. still, the anxiety refuses to be ignored. it stirs violently in her gut & knots itself uncomfortably within her very core. she does not think herself to be invincible, despite the way she portrays herself. she knows there is always a chance that things do not go the way they want. what if she is not enough to save him?

"humor me then, my love," zaelun starts with a shift in her tone. it's less fearful than her previous statement. allowing the anxieties to consume her does no good. it does no good for the both of them. she finds herself reaching for his hand, her fingers tracing over his knuckles before taking hold of it. it steadies the anxious shake within her own. "what way would be the most amusing for you? i'll see to it that it happens should all else fail." there's a quirk of her lips that accompanies her words, something soft & playful. something that does not quite touch her eyes.

[favoriteache]

the shift happens mechanically; a cloth over a ghost's head, leaving only the edges with which it can be recognized. its shape is evident. its identity, however, is left to the beholder's guessing. astarion does not need to guess. he has learned zaelun's tells; at first by necessity & selfishness. it was a lesson, built on moments; waterdeep's wizard would tell you that all great knowledge comes trickling down the great cascades of your efforts, or some nonsense like that. he would be correct. astarion learned little by little: when to look demure, when to add a hint of fang, how to ask for what he wants and how to coax her into doing his bidding without a word. it's a science he has perfected.

it is rather useless widsom, now that he feels much less inclined to manipulate her. he still takes advantage, of course, the way you always reach for the bottle even once you've stopped drinking: a reflex of sort. which is to say the habit that comes from the intoxication, and the pleasure, and the heady mix of the two, is not completely gone. it haunts. he reaches & does not indulge. like scraping a fang along the soft skin of her neck, and not biting. he is being very good-- trying to be. all that to say that he knows her: he knows all the edges of her obliging nature, nature that he finds noth delectacle and horrifying, all at once. he sees it being brought to the front stage, in the exhaustion traded for humor. he doesn't know how one is supposed to take care of someone else's fear. it is terrible, however, that he wants to try.

she takes his hand and his fingers easily glide between hers. if he were the romantic type, or if she was a mark he wanted to take home, he'd think and say that they were made to hold each other in this way. since he is not, and she is far from it, all he can think is that he doesn't mind the touch; that it feels nice. zaelun is taller, so instead of doing what he usually does with strangers (a hand around their waist, their head on his shoulder, while he guides them to damnation), he is the one to lean against her. it feels right. "do you remember the odd ox we met at the druid's?" he asks, voice softer now that his entire side is leeching off zaelun's warmth. in these moments it is easy to pretend that they are not who they are-- that, for a moment, they can be lovers and nothing else. "now imagine if we put the bloody thing near that brain and it just. bites it. no need to play heroes then, darling! an ox saving baldur's gate... oh, i'd pay to see it happening. with gold i haven't stolen, even."

[favoriteache]

do you ever wish we'd met each other sooner? ( jeff for remy 😼 )

remy isn't the kind of person who deals in choices-- the opportunities to make any are few & far between. wishes, however, are entirely more her speed: she wishes in rhymes & soft lullabies. she has been wishing for the impossible since she was big enough to do so, and found that she often wished bigger than most around her. she wished to leave home, unaware yet that a wish and a promise are two different things entirely, and that only one of them brings you were you actually want to go. when that wish turned sour, she wished yet again, and her star guided to yet another prison. she is but a bird wishing for bluer skies, unaware that she will only ever deal with cages.

jeff is… well. she doesn't want to be unkind, so the thought comes up cloaked in shame, but jeff is like any other wish she has ever made. in theory, he is breathtaking, and she would do like nothing more than to stay near him. in reality, he is a liar and a thief and he would rather sell her heart on the black market than keep it safe.

baldur's gate is but a walk away, and soon the world will take on a new shape: be it from their victory or their failure, nothing will be quite the same. new songs will blossom, history will take on a new cloak. it makes sense that he would question time right now, when it is about to transform into an entirely new tapestry. beneath their feet, clear water flows. the night is bright and full of possibilities. it is a place for nostalgia, or whatever it is when you wish for a past that hasn't happened. remy finds a thousand justifications for his musings, and attempts very bravely not to read anything beneath the question.

she barely reaches the river, though she attempts it by dangling precariously over the edge of the wooden deck. with a sigh of failure, she does sit back-- aware, of course, that the question sits uncomfortably between them, addled by the bottle of wine jeff nicked from moonglow's stash a while back. "i don't know," remy tells him, ever honest, red eyes glowing softly in the darkness, looking anywhere but him.

"i doubt you would have let me stay, if we had met each other any other way. and i quite like being... well, here. with you." without a wriggling tadpole between them, an anchor of sorts, he would have run the other way. she is sure of it. she has seen many of his kind in the sewers of baldur's gate: friends that you would only keep an hour, before they would leave and never return. "why, do you?" pathetic little tell in the way her eyes grow in size, entirely too big and too sweet, as she turns to face him; hope colors the question, and what is hope but a wish without direction?

[prophetyse]

   i dream of massacres. i am a garden of black and red agony.

#PROPHETYSE. PRIVATE & SELECTIVE FANTASY ORIGINAL CHARACTER . SABINA OFELLIA. ADORED BY AJ. ©

[favoriteache]

“ cheer up. it might be all downhill from here. ” (for any v you like)

"no shit," vivienne spits out the words with her head between her knees, trying not to puke. everything swims, vision going blurry while the signal keeps telling her the relic's malfunctioning. blood keeps rushing between her ears, the swooshing sound weirdly similar to the one trapped inside of a shell, rhyming with a time when the ocean wasn't a wasteland of trash. she wonders what it was like: toes buried in the sand, water on the horizon, bigger than any man-made skyscrapper.

almost asks the dipshit inside her head, because that's the kind of habit she has picked up-- because she expects him to be here, and to reply. because they're... not friends, not colleagues, but a third, worse thing. something a bit more cannibalistic, maybe, because a look in his direction makes her wish she could put her hands around his neck & squeeze.

"aren't you tired of," she stops because now she's coughing, and fuck if that isn't representative of the bullshit that her life has become: body crumbling while she tires herself with admonishing a figment of her imagination. "...of being this fucking annoying?" at the very least, being mad at johnny makes her feel better-- she'll blame him 'til she can't breathe anymore, even if it's done half-heartedly. animosity makes her blood pump. makes her want to hold on a bit tighter; to him, to life. it's better than to look in the mirror and find jackie's face looking disappointed somewhere above her shoulder.

"if i die like this..." the "if" registers: silence ends the sentence, like it hadn't really reached her mind yet, that she could die like this: worried of puking her insides out, itching for a cigarette, johnny's body blocking out of the light.

[favoriteache]

WHICH TRAGIC LOVE STORY ARE YOU?

ishtar & jaskier got: achilles & patroclus

you’re loyal, brave, and fierce in your devotion. friendship and love blur together for you, because at your core, you crave someone who is both your confidant and your other half. you’re the kind of person who would fight the world for someone you love, who sees partnership as sacred and unbreakable. but you also have a streak of pride, sometimes believing you can outwit fate or hold onto something forever when nothing truly lasts. your relationships are marked by both tenderness and ferocity, a love that carries a mythic weight. when people think of you, they remember the loyalty, the sacrifice, and the way your heart kept beating for someone even after they were gone.

tagged by: @ownwards (thank u xxx) tagging: @baldursgte (for zae?), @lattehearted (eliana?), @prophetyse, @stvampyr (any of ur pitt babies), @osculumabmor (grier?), @palespawn and whoever sticked around to read this.

[cymk8]

dj shart ♟️

[patreon]

[favoriteache]

what if this doesn't end well? (zaélun & astarion)

in the quiet dark they are but one shadow; soon it will be time to be part of the living. the marching sounds of a camp getting ready will shatter the fragile peace that darkness brings. he doesn't quite remember when these chaste little rendez-vous started happening between them, only that they did: he likes seeing the sun rise, so he always finds himself awake before it does. now every time he thinks of dawn, it is through its first flickers of light caressing zaelun's face as she quietly murmurs something to him. the background changes, of course-- from the grove to the crèche to the road to baldur's gate. sometimes there is no dawn at all, simply the thrumming living light of mushrooms, or the glistening sparks of selune's blessing. but zaelun remains. astarion's eyes do not drift.

in the in-between, it is terribly easy to let oneself dream of the next step: a hazardous play, of course, for it is fertile ground for anxiety to blossom. he watches it happen while he nurses his own drink-- wine, surely, for the way he grimaces every time it reaches his lips. the tight line of her shoulders, sharper than her sword. the fear that flickers in those eyes as she looks to the approaching city. soon, he thinks. soon it will all come to an end. there is, of course, worries to be had: the cold dagger dangling over his neck wearing cazador's name, the giant brain matter floating around & awaiting to make squids of them all. there is a lot of cause for fear.

"as long as it ends," he tells her, which is the way things go now, between them: an attempt at honesty (it's bright and fragile: soon they'll be close enough to tie ends)(soon freedom will either be his or he will be dead). but honesty is lost to the same bravado he spews once the shawl of truth becomes too heavy to bear: "though i would settle for something hilarious, if not good. wouldn't you?"

[favoriteache]

how would you describe your oc's core aesthetic? /for Istar specifically hehe

i'd say goblincore for @cuntlike, though i don't really think in aesthetics. i prefer to think in like. metaphors? images? for istar for example every time i start wondering how she'd react i go back to this specific image: a dog (probably a samoyed with a bad haircut lol. its thin, potentially carrying fleas and looks abandoned) the dog has red eyes, and these red eyes are watching you when the dog's not rolling in the mud. its muzzle is stained with blood. it looks somewhat mischievous, but it has sharp teeth, and you can't see what it's playing with :))

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR CURIOUS HYPOTHETICALS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

do you think you would have liked me if we met back then?

if i asked you to marry me... right now... what would you say?

could you ever imagine us together?

what if we're not meant to survive this?

if you found out you only had 24 hours to live, what would you do?

what if your life went differently? where do you think you'd be?

i bet we would have been best friends as kids.

could you imagine a world like that?

would you say yes if i asked you on a date?

what if only one of us gets out?

i wish we'd dated sooner.

what if they don't like me?

what superpower would you choose, if you had to pick one?

i wonder what that would be like.

i bet we'd be married by now, if things had gone differently.

i'll never stop considering the "what-ifs."

have you ever pictured us as a couple?

what does your perfect future look like?

do you think you might see me as more than a friend?

ever thought about the future?

what if we're not meant to be together?

but what if there's only one bed? what then?

if we get through this, what's the first thing we should do?

where do you see yourself in ten years?

if a higher power exists... i wonder what they think of us.

maybe we could try going on a date. see what happens.

i've always wondered if you'd ever look my way.

what words would [name] use to describe you?

what would be your strategy for an apocalypse?

could you ever see me as something more?

if we ever make it out of here, where will we go?

what do you think lies ahead?

what if i'm not meant to do this?

if we get trapped, we need to come up with a plan.

have you ever wondered what our kids would look like?

is there more to life than this?

do you ever wish we'd met each other sooner?

i always wonder what would have happened.

if you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

if you could snap your fingers right now and be anywhere you want, where would you pick?

do you think we have any chance of surviving this?

i'm trying to picture a world where we get through this in one piece.

what if this doesn't end well?

what if we get stuck there?

if a genie gave you three wishes, what would you ask for?

what if everyone stares at me?

what if i'm not cut out for this?

[favoriteache]

rping with my dad has become a humiliation ritual............... does anyone have a link to wikihow on how to rule a kingdom in a medieval warhammer setting?

[favoriteache]

if i reply to something u posted ten years ago just know i got lost in the for you page