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ophclos · 4 years

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SEND ✵ FOR MY MUSE TO ANSWER — REVANELAN | @irsalladin | ACCEPTING

FIRST IMPRESSION: This gets three parts. Ophelia’s very first impression of Inquisitor Revan came in the form of second-hand accounts. Overheard between other gossip in village squares or used to bolster a hunting or battle story in taverns -- she knew there was some truth to every tale, but taking the time to sift through it all for those common threads at that stage, when she was gradually making her own way to the Inquisition’s base in the Frostbacks to meet the Inquisitor for herself? She just tried to treat most of it the way she treated stories of herself: amusing, but nothing to be taken seriously. Varric’s letters held a bit more weight, but she knew he could spin a tale as good as any, and if his letters being read by others could pose any risk of compromising the Inquisition or Inquisitor themself, he’d probably padded his own accounts with exaggerations and omissions too. So why she knew the Inquisitor was real, all those overheard stories left the impression of a figure somehow larger than life.

The second first impression was of a beautiful figure at Skyhold. Enchanting eyes, she’d carried herself in a way that left no doubt: she knew what she wanted. Everyone else fell away for a while after that. It being Ophelia’s last night of relative anonymity in Skyhold, getting to touch and be touched, for once not having to lead or be in control was intoxicating. Though she never caught a name, Ophelia had never offered her own either, and each seemed content with that arrangement. The look and feel of the one silk glove the other wore made Ophelia think perhaps she was of the nobility, or was covering some sort of distinctive scar or tattoo (that this could be the Inquisitor covering up that glowing Fade-touched mark never quite occurred to her, but she forgives herself the slip: they had both been putting in the effort to keep each other’s minds -- and arms, and mouths -- in other places). It was an encounter that had left her satisfied and content, enough so that her sleep after the fact was almost peaceful, for once.

And then came the following morning. Her first real, knowing encounter with the Inquisitor. In those moments, the fear of Varric somehow figuring it out surpassed everything, even the threat of Corypheus and the possible end of Thedas. But now she knew. Not everything, but enough. She knew the far-fetched stories and the embittered Chantry criticism, and she knew the Inquisitor was flesh and blood and bone and breath, and she knew Varric had enough trust in Revanelan to invite Hawke to the table to share her side of events leading up to this point. She didn’t know her deeply, or personally, but it didn’t matter. With Skyhold’s grounds sprawling beneath their gaze, she recognized a familiar weight on the Lady Inquisitor’s shoulders, a change in her face as she sought information from Hawke, and that was all she needed to see, to know, she would commit to the Inquisition.

CURRENT IMPRESSION: She’s absolutely fascinated by the way Revan seems to balance the overwhelming power and pressure and responsibilities of the Inquisition, the unknowns of the Mark and of Corypheus and every snaking tendril of his influence, and just... being Normal? Maintaining a sense of humour, finding time to pursue smaller interests and help resolve “smaller” issues. The weight of the world is on her shoulders, and at times, you can see it, and Ophelia never likes the idea of feeling or expressing pity for anyone, but Maker there’s something in her that wishes she could ease that burden, though she’d never want to be the one in Revan’s place. [side-eyes Ophelia’s Inquisitor verse...] But then she’ll crack a joke, or pick up some piece of ‘junk’ on the road and remember overhearing a widow from three towns back mentioning some family heirloom matching this item and turn around to return it, or cover up the mark and slip into the crowd at the Herald’s Rest and Ophelia wonders why she ever came close to that pitying feeling, because the Inquisitor sure seems to be handling and balancing life much better than she ever could’ve imagined. She’s just not sure if she buys it, yet, but she’s in awe of Revan for doing as well as they have been so far. Mostly, though, she just appreciates being one of the privileged few to actually know who the Inquisitor is, not only by name and title and legend, and that she’s been so welcoming to Varric even with his stash of secrets, and that, as far as Ophelia can see, Revanelan is doing the best she can to save as many people as possible, and keep the world not only intact but maintain some of the compassion and integrity that many throw aside during times of crisis.

ATTRACTION: Uh, yeah, duh.

SOMETHING FRIGHTENING: The amount of damage Revan can take in a fight is, like, inhuman, and if Ophelia were fighting against her she would be terrified by that fact. Being on the same side, though, she’s more concerned about the emotional toll that comes with being named Inquisitor, as well as the physical and psychic damage the mark could be doing to Revan. Oh, and on the flipside of the first point, when she’s made aware of the fact that the damage isn’t negated completely, just postponed, THAT scares the hell out of her because 1) What the hell, how and why?! but 2) What if one day it’s Too Much? Oh, and there’s that weird Spirit that just seems to hang out near Revan’s presence in the Fade constantly... Ophelia’s not sure what it’s about (yet), and it’s not exactly frightening but she’s a little unsure of it all.

SOMETHING ADORABLE: ASDF

WOULD MY MUSE SACRIFICE THEMSELF FOR YOURS: Yeah. That’s Ophelia’s whole vibe as an Inqusition companion, Warden-adjacent contact, or Hawke cameo. Honestly, if Revan DOESN’T leave her in the Fade so everyone else can escape, she will be pissed (unless Loghain is also there, I guess.) But even in less extraodinary circumstances and fights, yes. In part because she knows how important Revan is as Inquisitor, and as the one possessing the mark, but it does become more personal in time.

WOULD THEY GO ON A (ROMANTIC/PLATONIC) DATE: Ophelia calls all party outings “group dates” (like The Bachelor), so yes.

ONE-WORD DESCRIPTION: Power/Potential [specific word to be updated here later, if I ever come up with it -- this is why I was asking for that word on d.scrd!]

WOULD MY MUSE SLAP YOURS: No. I guess... Spank, maybe? If Revan’s into it...? It’s not Ophelia’s first choice, though lmao.

HUGGING AND/OR KISSING: I feel like there’d be more kissing than hugging for starters, just because you can kinda get away with kissing as just another part of “just sex” as opposed to hugs and cuddling and spooning. But slow-burn to friendly hugs, then maybe to romantically holding each other, to kisses for the sake of kisses, tender and sweet and passionate and rushed and desperate and joyous and... They could build to it, for sure.

#irsalladin #( answered. )#the 'first impressions' part of this was written ages ago in a headachey haze #and i could rewrite it but im too scared to reread and try tweaking it bc i'll probably just delete it then never finish this meme dkfjghjfd #the rest was mostly done or tweaked Today with a clear head

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believerindaydreams · 5 years

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five things for OG MacGyver

...muse wanted a five things with Jack and Murdoc slash.

beats me if there’s any thematic resonance going on here, I just write the stuff

i. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" Murdoc asks sweetly, leaning on the machine gun with elaborate poise.

Mac's got his impassive face on, Jack observes; the one he trots out only when very weary, or exasperated, or both. "Murdoc, this is Jack Dalton. Jack, this is Murdoc. Real name still unknown, despite Phoenix's best efforts."

"But I sort of know who you are," Jack says easily, gripping the assassin's hand. "Otherwise known as bazooka guy...that was a good cab of mine you wrecked, you know that?"

"MacGyver. Kindly tell your sidekick to stop thinking he can injure me, before I throttle him."

"Sidekick? Uh-huh. I'm the pilot, he's the mechanic, if anything he's my sidekick!"

Mac just shrugs, in response to Murdoc's glare. "Way I see it, you two might just deserve each other..."

ii. "...and what brings you here, may I ask?" The prison looms around them, harsh iron and harsh lighting.

"Phoenix sent me! And believe me, when Phoenix has to send me somewhere you know something's gone real screwy. But everybody more competent, they thought you guys would recognise-"

"You say competent," Murdoc says, in his pleasant open-faced you're-going-die-now fashion. "This is the heart of HIT's operations. I myself have spent the last eight hours formulating a careful infiltration plan for a facility I know inside and out, only to find myself beaten to the punch by a moonlighting amateur - how? How does that happen?"

"Cos Mac's in real trouble, I've always got his back. And also jeez, get yourselves a better headquarters. I've had more trouble infiltrating an air hostess convention-"

"Jack, that's enough of that," MacGyver says, casually strolling out of the jail cell.

"He doesn't like me talking about it, cos with this mustache obviously I couldn't be the one in drag-"

Murdoc's eyes widen.

Doesn't look half bad that way, Jack can't help reflecting.

iii. "Is that a wood-burning kit? Heck, I always wanted to try one of those."

"...hands off," Murdoc says, holding the equipment slightly out of Jack's reach. "How am I unfortunate enough to have picked the same night as you to break into MacGyver's houseboat?"

"Oh, I'm not burgling the place this time. Just crashing here, while I'm between apartments. It saves him trouble finding a boat sitter."

"He allows you to do that? I wonder-"

"Whoa, whoa," Jack says. "Don't go getting any ideas. Remember, I'm not the one who keeps trying to kill him."

"Stop trying to kill MacGyver," Murdoc muses. "No. An admirable notion, doubtlessly, but no."

"Huh. Well, tried my best...what were you actually planning to do?"

"Carve my name into the mantelpiece, leave a few threatening photographs...oooh, the usual agenda. You know how it goes."

Jack glances at the fireplace. "Ok. Carry on."

"You aren't even going to try and stop me?"

"Course not. Last thing I need is to end up next on your hit list...go ahead, make yourself at home. Beer in the fridge- do you drink American beer? No, I bet it's some snooty imported thing-"

"Considering the success I'm having with this assignment," Murdoc says, almost petulantly, "you're liable to find yourself enjoying a long, healthy life-"

"Will you guys shut up?" MacGyver growls from the couch (Jack jumps; Murdoc drops the wood-burning kit with a crash). "Three weeks in the Arctic basin, I'm bushed, okay? Both of you scram and let me get some sleep. We can fight this out in the morning."

Jack tilts his head at the staircase. "Guess we finish this conversation upstairs."

"...only courteous of us."

Mac puts a sofa cushion over his head as they go. Almost succeeds in not wondering what they'll do in his bedroom when they get there.

Almost.

iv. "I mean he drives me up the wall," Jack says, already a little slurred though the beer in front of him is only half-drunk. "I've tried jokes, I've tried kindness, I've tried leaving suggestive pamphlets from San Francisco on his coffee table...."

"I myself have attempted the most unsubtle approaches I could imagine," Murdoc says, dropping two steaks on the counter. "Not with any noticeable degree of success."

(Behind him, the cook whose grill he'd commandeered softly tiptoes out of the bar.)

"And next time when you're asked for a rare steak, you'll know what rare means," Murdoc adds. At a conversational yell.

(The door slams tight.)

"...figures you would have tried. Thanks but no thanks," Jack says, disconsolately pushing the plate away.

"It's not poisoned. Believe me, I'd select better fare for such a death than the mediocre ingredients available in an airport restaurant." Murdoc sits down, cuts into his own with his usual gusto for knives.

"Yeah, I just bet. But Mac's on some fad vegetarian kick. I figure if I stick to it long enough, maybe he'll realise that I'm actually taking him seriously? God knows I wouldn't for anybody else."

"In light of my own firmly-held belief in the right of all beings to be precisely what they wish to be," Murdoc says, licking blood off his steak knife, "I'll go ahead and tell you my opinion. To wit: this is an asinine notion, and what's rather worse it won't work.

"...maybe."

"Did I get a single word of gratitude, for insisting that HIT purchase weapons only from companies that provided a living wage and good health care benefits?" Murdoc pauses. "Well, actually I did, but a half-mumbled thank you from a man apparently practicing for a ventriloquist convention is not what you could term romantic. Even by my rather loose definition of the term."

Jack snickers. "Why do we want him this bad?"

"The pleasure of the chase," Murdoc says. "It keeps me in cheerful and most affable fettle- well, overcome your scruples already and eat something. It's bad enough finding that the pilot I wanted is intoxicated, don't make the situation worse."

"...you want me to fly you somewhere? What for?" He brightens, gets to work on the sirloin with considerable enthusiasm.

"MacGyver is, according to HIT's best intelligence, off on vacation with his grandfather. Precise location unknown to us, but presumably not to you...I feel that it's about time I met the family, wouldn't you say?"

"...be careful," Jack says after a moment. "Because Mac wouldn't kill you, but Harry sure might."

"Dalton, are you actually expressing concern for my welfare?"

"Hey. It'll ruin my buddy's vacation if anybody gets shot."

"You just keep telling yourself that," Murdoc says, distinctly coquettishly.

"That doesn't mean it's not true!"

v. "Bud," Harry says, pulling his rocker a little closer to the fire. "I figured you might have someone on the go, but two at once?"

"...I'm not with either of them, Harry," Mac protests. "It's just- well, these two idiots keep following me everywhere, that's all. And they're both more trouble than they're worth. I was sort of hoping they'd get together and leave me be."

"Could see that working," Harry agrees, looking at the couple snoozing on the hearth rug. "Can't say as I know what you mean about trouble, though. A more polite, thoughtful pair I haven't seen in a while."

"You live alone. On a farm. In the middle of nowhere."

"And not getting any younger. I never was the sort to carp, but it won't make me feel any worse if I knew you'd finished sowing your wild oats..."

Mac's not listening, which is rare unless he's seriously worked up. "-got no idea what kind of craziness they're into! I mean, one of them's an assassin for crying out loud. And the other one makes him look sane..."

"Frankly, in our line of work not being an assassin makes you the outlier," Murdoc points out. "If we're talking outliers."

"And I do not," Jack says sleepily. "Um. Do not...oh, who's sane when Mac's around, anyway?"

Harry nods and keeps rocking, while his grandson protests the point in no uncertain terms. These three certainly know how to argue-

"All right, enough banter," Murdoc says abruptly. "Sir. As the senior of the family, it would be my distinct pleasure and honour, to ask your permission for courting your grandson."

"What he said," Jack chimes in with a grin; a grin that fades somewhat, at Mac's expressionless face.

"Knock yourselves out, boys," Harry says. Leans back to watch the fireworks.

It takes a moment for the three of them to realise what he's just said, but when they do it's the funniest thing he's seen since...ooh, that race where the horse bucked off its jockey and ran itself, probably.

Well.

Almost as funny.

#macgyver

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officialdipp · 7 years

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OPEN GROUP VERSE ; DOLLS IN PSEUDO PARADISE

If you’re interested, feel free to reblog this to help spread the word !

Where do things go when they are no longer needed ? If something is deemed as ‘ forgotten ’, ‘ worthless ’, ‘ not worth remembering ’ then surely it would be as if that thing had never truly existed in the first place wouldn’t it ?

Thrown away, abandoned, no better than mere FANTASY.

But what does any of this have to do with you ? You are not a forgotten thing to be thrown away, surely you aren’t. You are surely someone who goes about life in the best way one can. Perhaps you have friends, family, pets, surely you have something, someone, which binds you to this world. ( you are REAL. ) So what does any of this have to do with you ?

A forest with no exit ( how long have you been walking ? ) you don’t remember how long you have been here ( when did you even walk into this forest ? Had you not been SOMEWHERE ELSE ? Walking to school, to work, to somewhere surely… nothing seems to be missing on your person after all… ) Would you not have noticed walking into a forest ? ( But you didn't. You didn’t notice. How are you here ? )

WHY IS THIS FOREST SO QUIET ?

An unnerving atmosphere truly, tall trees with branches reaching up vainly to the rising sun ( when did it become morning ? ) tendrils of mist curling through lush leaf strewn ground, grasping, grabbing, searching to cling desperately onto anything which was foolish enough to walk through these unmarked paths. This forest is unfamiliar, this forest is perhaps just the slightest bit unsettling, but not as unsettling as the vague distinct tingle in the back of one's mind which is all too recognizable as the feeling of being WATCHED ( but from where ? By what ? ) you hear no birds in the trees, you hear no movement of life through the underbrush. ( that isn't normal surely ) but you can FEEL it, you know you can, EYES watching your every move ( like a lion watching a lamb which has strayed from its pen )

Perhaps you walk faster, ( there has to be an exit ! ) perhaps you don’t care, ( you aren’t in any danger right ? So why should you ? ) perhaps you check your phone ( no service ) perhaps you cry out for help ( no response )

Where do things go when they are forgotten ?

Eventually, a breakthrough, through the trees and mist you can make out the distinct outline of a small village ( you weren’t walking in circles after all it seems ) and the closer you get the more you can begin to make out; a school, an apartment complex, and what you are sure is something like a gas station ( signs of civilization ! ) and what's more, among it all you catch sight of other people. A crowd slowly gathering at the center of what you could only assume is some sort of town square, around something, ( around someone ) and surely you soon join the crowd too, no ? It would be better for you than simply standing around ( or risking becoming lost in the woods once more ) this has to be a chance for answers. Then you see her, a women standing upon little more than slightly elevated platform at the center of it all, yet still somehow COMMANDING the attention of every person gathered around her.

Where do things go when they are forgotten ?

SHE has been expecting you it seems. Her blonde hair done up in a tight bun, parasol neatly folded at her side, bright ( unnatural ) violet eyes which at once sweep through the murmuring voices of the forcibly gathered crowd.

❝ My, my, so many things have WASHED UP on my shore it seems... ❞ She speaks suddenly, her voice somehow demanding the attention of every single person gathered before her despite its perfectly carefree tone. ( She isn’t making the effort to raise her voice much higher than the clamoring of the crowd, and why should she RAISE her voice ? Surely you will listen, wont you ? To the only person ( ? ) here who seems to know what's going on. ) ❝ Please DO settle down, all your pointless chitchat is going to give me a headache. I’m sure you all must have SO many questions, no ? ❞ A small chuckle escaped her lips, a small elegant curtsy given to the crowd in one completely fluid motion ( like a magician about to start a great show ) before continuing, ❝ --but as they say, patience is a virtue. All will be revealed with due time I promise you, but for now-- ❞

❝ WELCOME TO MY WONDERLAND ❞

Spirited away to a land of fantasy, trapped in an abandoned mountain village lost to time and space, you find yourself with nothing but the clothes on your back and anything you happened to have on hand. You have been captured, trapped like rats, and your captor, ( a woman calling herself Yukari Yakumo ) claims you have been FORGOTTEN by the world you came from.

The monster in your closet, the shadows that lurk in the night, the supernatural, the paranormal, how shocked must you be to discover they are all VERY much real. Real, and CRAVING for the FEAST they have been denied for so long.

And that is where you come in, your captor has made THAT much PERFECTLY clear. Forgotten to your world and lost in shadow, you are to become food for the creatures of myth and legend that haunt this place. However, your captor has taken pity ( ? ) on you, ( or perhaps simply sending lambs off to the slaughter is much too BORING for her tastes... ) and offers up a DEAL ( how FOND this one is of her GAMES ).

End the current existence of one of your fellow prisoners, and she will set you free, as a bonus, she’ll even grant you your greatest desire --a wish. However, all games need stakes, all games need a challenge ( did you really believe it’d be so SIMPLE ? ). Kill someone and get away with it when put on trial against your equals. If you FAIL you get EATEN by the monsters which lurk within the outskirts of the village. Likewise, if your fellow prisoners do not guess correctly, while you will be freed ( as promised ) the remaining prisoners will make quite the BUFFET in return...

You have been forced into a murder game, though really the better words for this is a game of survival.

Trapped in a land that does not care for you, populated by the creatures who gave humans a reason to FEAR the SHADOWS, trapped in a game of kill or be killed, live or die, escape or be eaten. In the end, lives WILL be lost. ( Your warden made THAT clear too ) Either way, Yukari is intent on getting exactly what she wants from her new PLAYGROUND.

There are NO real RULES here, though Yukari has been kind enough to place several ( actual ) customized street caution signs in the village square for you. Follow them, don’t follow them, she doesn’t really care, though if something goes WRONG don’t say she didn’t WARN YOU.

They are all very simple, and each sign colored in a visible bright yellow, they are as follows:

CAUTION !

The forest holds many dangers, try not to visit after sunset. Steal from the shops at your own risk: punishment will be administered at the whim of the shopkeepers. Property damage should be avoided, unless one is handy enough to fix whatever they broke. Leave offerings at shrines for a little bit of good luck ( you’ll need it ). Attack the sukima youkai at your own risk. Mind the gap.

VERSE INFO

✂—– This is an OPEN VERSE. ANYONE is free to join, canon, oc, multi-muse, etc. THE CUT-OFF POINT FOR CAST WILL BE SOMETIME AFTER THE SECOND CHAPTER BEGINS. Be sure to tag your verse posts with the tag ‘ v; dolls in pseudo paradise ’. Follow it to keep up with the verse’s events ! That is the official tag for the group, and where you will find open starters, group events, new applicants, etc. You’re more than welcome to make your own tag alongside that, though please tag your posts with the official tag so we can find your posts !

✂—– This verse is inspired by the setting of Touhou Project, the murder game mechanics of Dangan Ronpa, with a dash of Fatal Frame and other such horror games of its nature thrown in. as such, dark themes WILL be present. You do not have to be familiar with any of these things to participate, we got you covered on all fronts!

✂—– Youkai muses are allowed and encouraged! There’s only one catch- in this setting, youkai are born from human fear. It’s hard coded into their schematics, they cannot resist their nature. How open they are about their inhuman status amongst their peers is up to you, but given the situation they’re in.... it’s safe to say a wolf among the sheep’s going to cause a little bit of panic, no?

✂—– Yukari has basically spirited away all your muses from their canon verse / your verse of choice and dumped them into a realm which exists as a sort of ‘ wonderland ’, a pocket dimension of sorts with seemingly no exit. They have been kidnapped, ripped right from their ‘ story ’ and dropped right smack dab into the village with only the clothes on their backs and everything they may have on hand at the time.

✂—– As such, memories have been left INTACT ( probably ). Your muse remembers going about their daily life as normal before getting snatched up ( ‘ gapped away ’ literally walking through a rift in space-time which Yukari created ) and without their notice ending up a forest.

✂—– The village at NIGHT TIME leads to many events at RANDOM. There is no set schedule for these. Youkai are roaming in this village after all, and they will do as they please WHEN they please. Occasionally there will be witnesses, some there may not be. Some events may be dangerous to your muse, some might be helpful. But all of them are certainly strange… even the ones among you just seem a little bizarre.

✂—– It is preferable that you follow the ADMINS of this group as found in the admins page though it isn't required.

✂—– For the murder events, the admins will pair off two people ( though volunteers are welcomed ) – one to play the part of ‘ murderer ’ and the other their ‘ victim ’. The max amount of people who can be killed by ONE PERSON is TWO. If no one is willing to take the role, one of the admins will handle it.

✂—– Please. If you take part in this verse, treat each other kindly out of character and please be welcoming to those who join. See an open without notes ? Reply ! Want to plot with someone ? Feel free to ask ! We’re all just a big happy family stuck in a death village on a mountain. No big deal.

✂—– Threads of any length are welcome !

✂—– Trials, murders, and story events will be announced by Yukari. Trials are interactive and will be played out by interacting with other members in the group or by sending IC asks to this blog directed at Yukari. When it comes time to the voting, you’ll also cast your votes by sending them into the blog ! Yukari will also confirm or deny evidence in the trial and investigation if it’s needed or asked ( though whether she wants to or not is a different story-- ).

✂—– The application for this verse is short and simple. Only a few key things will be needed to know about your muse, which will be kept PRIVATE for the sake of moderating this ‘ story ’ New people will be introduced in batches and the masterlist will be updated as the applications come in !

✂—– Doubles are not an issue.

SEND ANY FURTHER QUESTIONS HERE PLEASE CHECK THE FAQ PAGE AND THE TAG AS IT'S UPDATED. FOR MORE INFORMATION ON THE SETTING ITSELF CHECK OUT THIS PAGE SUBMIT APP: HERE APP STATUS: OPEN

Name / Age: Species ( human / youkai / something else ? ): Weakness your character has ? ( physical / mental ): What would make them WANT to kill someone ? Strengths your character has ? ( physical / mental): What would KEEP them from killing ? Would you be willing to play the role of murderer ? Would you be willing to play the role of victim ? Triggers ? URL:

#v; dolls in pseudo paradise #reference #group verse #open group rp #open group verse #long post//

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