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Mar. 27th, 2024


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Character survey: Tristan Wicker

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Mar. 24th, 2024


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RP Planner Mar-Apr

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Mar. 23rd, 2024


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Josha Stradowski in The Wheel of Time (2023)



Josha Stradowski in The Wheel of Time (2023)
Season 02

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Mar. 21st, 2024


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Karima McAdams in The Wheel of Time (2023)



Karima McAdams in The Wheel of Time (2023)
Season 02

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chart meme

"BOLD OF YOU TO...
"HOW DARE YOU...
"PLEASE...
...ASSUME I HAVE DIGNITY."
...ASSUME I'M STRAIGHT."
...BELIEVE I'VE REACHED PEAK DUMBASS."
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Luke Grimes in True Blood (2013)



Luke Grimes in True Blood (2013)
Season 06

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samples

BEDSIDE VIGIL
It occurred to Baphomet that he'd never seen Selina so still before. He knew that she was capable of it; she'd hardly be a decent thief if she couldn't hold still. It was just... he hadn't seen it before, not like this anyway. Not the way she'd been since she'd come back from that beach, mostly asleep and unaware of the world around her. She'd barely stirred long enough for all of them to be shuffled back to their first hotel in the chaos of the police kicking them all out.

Selina was bright, vibrant, full of life. Seeing her grey-haired and wrinkled and so very still was an itch under his skin that he couldn't quite scratch.

"If I had my powers," he told her, a low murmur so that Eliot, near enough that he could almost certainly overhear anyway, could at least pretend he wasn't listening, "I could snap my fingers and bring you back."

She'd still be old, but frankly, he didn't care. He knew her. A little thing like advanced age wasn't going to keep her from being full of snark and energy, if he could just bring her back to herself. He wouldn't mind it, her being older than him.

Then again, if he could snap his fingers and bring her back, he wouldn't be around to see it anymore, anyway. That was the deal; he couldn't bring someone back for nothing. It had to be a trade. He'd say an even trade, but the choice between him and Selina was...

It was no choice at all, really, was it? Whatever afterlife got him was getting the short end of the stick, by comparison.

Anyway, it was a moot point. They didn't have powers, and Baphomet couldn't do anything at all except take as many chances as he could to sit by her side. Her hand was frail in his. He'd never been so careful holding anything before as he was cradling it.

"You're still beautiful," he told her, even though he knew that she wouldn't care even if she could hear him. He'd never told her she was beautiful before. He'd barely even let himself think it, too focused on his worries of what could be if the worst were to happen and his girlfriend were to show up there with them. She'd already hate him being friends with Selina. Thinking that she was lovely, that was unforgivable.

His other hand, the one that wasn't holding hers like it was made of glass, stroked grey curls back away from her face. It was a pointless gesture; they fell right back where they had been a second later. Baphomet's smile was tender and aching, a private thing most people had never seen for themselves. Not even her.

Morrigan, once or twice. Back before they were gods and everything had gotten even more fucked up than the two of them already had been.

He let that hand fall uselessly to his thigh. Growing old... that was something he hadn't had to worry about, not since he'd become a god. He'd worried about plenty of other things, namely the two year clock ticking above his head, but getting old definitely hadn't been one of his concerns thanks to that. He wondered if she'd thought about it. If she'd ever pictured what she'd look like once she was sixty, seventy, eighty. Or if she'd been like him, and she'd thought that she'd never make it that long.

He'd never asked her, had he? They'd never talked about that. They'd never talked about anything that really mattered because Baphomet had wanted it that way. Had wanted the space so he could pretend what was happening wasn't.

So that he could pretend he wasn't falling for her.

And there it was, out in the open and acknowledged. He'd really been trying to avoid that for as long as possible. Baphomet was very good at just not thinking about it, most of the time, but in this case... in this case, he thought maybe it was inevitable.

He couldn't pinpoint the moment that it had happened, the falling. It had crept up slowly, and then sprung itself on him all at once. He'd known before this, of course, couldn't help but know that there was something there between them, but actually thinking the words changed things.

And of course it was while she couldn't understand him anyway that he'd had this little moment. That was him, always doing the wrong thing at the wrong time.

His sigh was heavy. "It would have been easier, you know, if I... not if I'd hated you, that would have been a whole other sort of problem, but if I hadn't cared about you at all. If we'd never even become friends to start with. It would have been better for you.

"I'm not an easy man to be close to, kitten. I hurt the ones I love more than I hurt anyone else. You'd have had a far better life without me in it, even without the whole Morrigan of it all. I'm immature, I'm petty, I'm terrible."

She didn't respond. Of course she didn't. As far as anyone could tell, she wasn't even comprehending anything that was said to her. That was why it was safe to say it.

"And Morrigan... if she knew that I cared for you, do you know what she'd do to you? To me? And you're formidable, but you're not a god. You can't face her down like Persephone could." Baphomet shouldn't have even put her in that position, but that was him. Not thinking about the consequences of his actions until they came back to affect him personally.

It was an impossible situation. Baphomet couldn't stop himself from feeling what he felt, from craving every glance his way, every time their hands brushed, every time they were even in the same room together. He couldn't stop himself even though he knew that it could be her doom.

"It's fucked, kitten. It really is. I fucked it all up, and I couldn't even tell you why I'd go back to her to begin with. It's not because... I loved her, once, you know. I thought she was the most amazing thing that I'd ever seen. But we're not good for each other, me and her. We're not... we're the most toxic couple I know, and that's saying something. I just don't know how to walk away from it. I don't know what would happen if I walked away from it, and you should know... you should know that I'm a coward."

It was the honest truth. Baphomet put up a good front, but he was afraid of so many things. Dying most of all, but the consequences of his own actions were terrifying. That was why he didn't think about them, when he could get away with it.

"I want to say that I'll do better. I do. But I can't... I don't know if I can." That was the honest truth, too. Even when he meant well, he still managed to fuck it all up somehow. Case in point, this. He'd meant well, he had, refusing to let her get any closer. He'd meant to protect her. And now... and now, this, and he hadn't even been with her.

Had she been frightened, aging so fast? He hadn't talked to anyone else on the beach. Hadn't even tried, even if they'd want to talk about it in the first place. He didn't know what it had been like. What it had felt like. And she'd had to go through that... not alone, there had been plenty of people there on that beach, but without him.

Not that he could have made much of a difference. He could have at least held her hand while she was aware of it, though. While they grew old together, something that he'd never thought that he'd experience.

"It's all going to be over soon. We'll be back at the museum, you'll be back to yourself." Baphomet squeezed her hand, oh so carefully so that he didn't hurt her. "We'll put it all behind us, and I'll..."

What would Baphomet do? How could he possibly reconcile what he wanted, what they both wanted, with keeping her safe?

"I'll give you the choice, at least," he decided. "I'll lay my cards out and let you tell me what you want from me. If you'll have me, that is. That's your choice, too, but this time I won't take it away from you. And that's a promise."

Baphomet lied. Baphomet broke his promises. But this time, this time he wouldn't. For her.

"Enough of that boring shite," he decided, shaking off his morose mood with a toss of his head. "Let me tell you about the time that I did a performance in a graveyard..."
IN DREAMS
It was Witch that cast her mind out in her dreams, not Jaenelle; it was always Witch, in dreams. Never the shell, only the being contained inside it. Witch had waited, Witch had bided her time, but now Witch was searching for dreamers.

Not just any kind of dreamer, of course. Everyone dreamed, whether it was about the mundane or the fantastical. What Witch was searching for was a specific type of dreamer. One whose dreams were larger. More real. The kind of dreamer that had created her out of the Darkness, all those centuries ago when her web had first begun to be woven. She wouldn't find any Blood except for Daemonar's familiar mind, but curiosity drove her to explore what else was out there in this sea of landens she found herself in the midst of.

She wasn't certain if she could touch their minds, these dreamers, but when she found the right dream it was as easy as taking that step to the left that she'd been so deeply in the habit of, talking to the kindred. Just another way of thinking, again.

Maybe that was more apt than she'd known. Once she was in it she realized one thing: this dream didn't feel entirely human.

She was a strange, foreign creature traipsing through the landscape of someone else's dream. A golden mane hung down her back, pushed behind delicately pointed ears; a small spiral horn grew from the center of her forehead. Her human fingers sheathed a cat's claws, and the small faun's tail at the base of her spine was perfectly visible since she'd neglected to clothe herself in this realm of dreams. Her legs transformed below the knee to make way for delicate hooves.

There was no summer sky blue to her eyes here. They were a deep, ancient sapphire.

She was still recognizable though. Her face was still the same. If this dreamer was someone she'd met in the museum, they would know her. If it was someone she met after they woke from the dream, they would know her. She wasn't worried about that though. She wasn't really worried about anything except satisfying her own curiosity.

Ronan was dreaming of a forest. Miles and miles of forest, not unlike his beloved Lindenmere or Cabeswater, but because he couldn’t reach either of them at all from here, it was a forest entirely of his own making. No matter how far he stretched, he couldn’t find anyone from that other world, not even a hint of them, so there had been no other dream beings inside his dreams.

Until suddenly, there was.

His attention was vast, spanning his entire dream, and her presence was so different from everything else inside it that it was immediately obvious. After everything with Bryde and the Lace, he was much more wary of any other being that inserted himself into his dreams, and he materialized immediately beside her, first as an enormous, dark, spiky shape that condensed itself into a sharp-featured teenage boy.

“Who’re you?” he asked. “And what d’you think you’re doing in my dreams?”


Her voice, when she spoke, was silver and sepulchral. "I am Witch. I was... exploring."

The setting, the forest, felt comfortable. Comforting. Witch had spent a lot of time in the forest, in her human shell, enough that any forest felt familiar in a way. This one seemed bigger than a forest, though. Seemed like something more.

As fascinating as it all was, if he told her to leave she would. It was, after all, his dream. Just because she'd found her way there it didn't mean that she would be a welcome guest.

"Your dreams are different," she told him, an explanation and a question at the same time.

Ronan didn’t bother to answer the implicit question. Obviously his dreams were different, and whatever information she could parse from that she already had, he didn’t need to give her more.

He wasn’t necessarily feeling threatened by her, but he hadn’t had the best experience with other people in his dreams. Bryde had fucked with his head, even though that had kind of been him fucking with his own head. And that had been the least of it. But on the other hand, Hennessy had saved him, so another dreamer-type was not immediate cause for alarm. He was just…wary.

“What are your dreams like?” he asked. “Or do you just walk around in other people’s dreams?”


"I have my own dreams," Witch said. Once she'd had a hard time telling the dreams from reality; they'd all seemed like dreams to her, when she was young. "I dream in the Misty Place."

The Misty Place was different now than it had been when she was young. It was filled with fractals of her power now, restrained so it wouldn't overwhelm the fragile mortal shell. She could still slip between them, settle in its depths like a spider in her web.

She cocked her head to the side, kitten-curious. "Do you always dream here?"

“Nah,” Ronan said easily. “I dream wherever I want.”

At another point in time he might have shown off immediately what he could do. The trees seemed to feel his impulse to do so, because they started to rustle and whisper to him, but he chose not to change anything just yet. He listened to the trees for just a moment to be sure they weren’t actually trying to warn him (they weren’t), and then ignored them in favor of what really interested him.

“What’s the Misty Place?” He had seen plenty of misty places in his dreams but this seemed like a specific spot, to have earned the capital letters. Somewhere he hadn’t been before. Then again, it was possible he had actually been there but it hadn’t been as significant to him, not enough to give it a name; maybe that was personal to her.


Witch blinked at him slowly—her turn to decide if he could be trusted.

The decision was almost visible, a certain predatory wariness that melted away into an uncanny stillness. "It's in the abyss. It's too dark for most people. Too deep."

They could only get there in the first place if Witch took them, mostly. Unless it was an accident, like that first time with Daemon, when he'd been chasing her and slipped past his own inner web in his pursuit, fallen and shattered his chalice, his mind.

Her ancient sapphire eyes stayed fixed on him, judging whether he recognized anything she talked about. He wasn't from Witch's world, but maybe... maybe he knew something similar?

Ronan’s (or possibly more accurately, Greywaren’s) attention sharpened. What she was describing sounded a lot like where he had come from, where the roots of him were, that he had stretched from until he was so far he couldn’t really remember it. He appeared a little more jagged and intricate now, as the dream reflected the part of him that was closer to the surface.

“Are you from there?” he asked. “Or did you start as a person and stretch down deeper?” While he was still the one questioning her, this question possibly revealed more about him than he intended.


Witch's attention caught on the change. She had been right; whoever this strange boy was, he wasn't human either.

"I am Witch," she said again. "I am dreams made flesh, dreams from tens of thousands of years before the shell was born." Was he simply a shell, too, this boy that she saw? Was he a shell for the jagged thing inside him just as she was a shell for dreams?

Witch hoped so. She had never met a thing like her before.

"I come from the abyss," she continued. There was no point in hiding it, even if she hadn't made it clear here in this strange place she had found herself. Even if she had let most people see only the shell and not what was inside it. "I came howling joy and pain, rage and celebration."

Please, she thought, please be like me.

“You came from the abyss, but you wanted to be human?” Ronan didn’t know if he entirely understood the bit about howling, but he didn’t really remember being created in the human world, or anything before it. He knew that he had been, though, and that he had wanted to be, had longed and stretched himself to be part of this world – and he sure was full of all of those big emotions, for better and worse. Wonderingly, he added, “I thought I was the only one.”

There were his beloved Cabeswater and Lindenmere, but they hadn’t fully left their abyss-selves (it was funny how easily the word abyss fit itself into his vocabulary, but then, he’d never had a word for it himself) behind when they came. Greywaren had fashioned himself into an entirely new being, to live as a human.

But before he got too attached, he had to ask: “You don’t want to like, end the world or anything, do you?”


Witch laughed, sudden and silvery. "It was the last thing I wanted. The beautiful, bright things, they deserve to be saved."

She had ended some people's worlds, but that... that had been different. That had been a necessary purging, ridding the Realms of a creeping taint that was poisoning the Blood. That was too much to explain right then, though, Dorothea and Hekatah and their schemes and the way they had hurt the people who had been hers.

"Have you ever met a unicorn?" she asked him.

It was certainly possible that she was lying, but Ronan believed her. Or at least he wanted to believe her, very badly, and so he went ahead and did it. It wasn’t like the Lace had exactly been subtle about its hatred for humans and their world, and Witch didn’t give off that kind of vibe at all.

“I could make one,” he said. “But I haven’t met one that already existed.”


"They can be very stubborn," Witch told him, "but they were some of my first friends."

As always there was a flicker of sorrow for Kaetien. There would always be a flicker of sorrow for Kaetien, for as long as Witch lived.

"How would you make them?" she asked. She didn't ask him to actually do it, that seemed presumptuous, but if this was what made his dreams the sort of thing that called to her then she wanted to know the answer.

“Like this,” Ronan said, because it was much easier to demonstrate than explain. He imagined a unicorn, and it was there in the dream with them.

It was probably nothing like a real unicorn, however, since he had only ever seen pictures of fantasy unicorns. It wasn’t quite like the pictures of fantasy unicorns he’d seen, though. It was shaped like a pure white horse with a sparkly horn on its forehead and rainbow colors glinting through its mane and tail, but like every creature from Ronan’s imagination, it had a bestial, feral quality to it as well as a whimsical one. It was something about the glint of its eyes, perhaps, or the way it stood. “And then I’d just bring it back with me when I wake up. If the Board wasn’t stopping me, anyway.”


It wasn't like the unicorns Witch had known, especially not like the Kindred, but her breath caught and then released in a silky sigh anyway. "Oh, he's beautiful."

That feral air only made her fonder of it; it reminded her of a Warlord-Prince in a way. Always a little dangerous, but that was simply the way it was made. Its nature. You couldn't love its beauty without also appreciating its ferocity, she thought.

"I wish you could bring him back." It seemed unjust, that something so wondrous couldn't be brought into the real world with the rest of them. And wasn't that a wonderful talent? Witch had never known someone who could make dreams real like that. "It takes a tangled web to bind dreams to flesh, where I'm from. And a very, very long time."

“Can they live without their dreamer?” Ronan also wanted to bring the unicorn back now that he’d made it, but he knew – he could feel, still – that he wouldn’t be able to. Even if he had, this was the main consideration: if something happened to him, the unicorn would fall asleep. And worse could happen to it here, where the Board liked to torture them for fun. “Mine will fall asleep when I die. Unless the ley energy is strong enough to sustain them.”

"Many of the dreamers who made me are dead," Witch told him. "The web is what sustains the dreams, keeps them flesh."

As far as what would happen if something destroyed that web, she'd never had to worry about it. It was kept safe in Arachna, deep in caves and well protected by the Arachnan Queen and her people. The only limit on this dream was Witch's own lifespan. She was a fragile thing, in her human shell. Her energy could last for a very long time, but the shell that was Jaenelle Angelline? It was limited.

"Everything has a price," she said. "Even dreams."

“What’s the web like?” Ronan was envisioning the ley lines like a web now, stretching beneath the earth, sustaining the dreamers everywhere, except where it was fractured and smothered by the world above it. He wondered if that was anything like the web she was describing.

It was also interesting that his form, as Greywaren, was sort of weblike, although not like any web that any creature would make. What was it about web-like shapes that beings of energy, forms of energy, liked to take?


"It's like a spiderweb," Witch said. Not exactly like, of course. More intricate. Now, with an Ebony Jewel chip attached restraining her power so that she could continue to exist in the vessel that was Jaenelle. "Well, I mean, the Black Widows who made it are spiders. Technically."

That didn't fully explain the Arachnans either. Beware the golden spider that spins a tangled web. "They're Blood like I am Blood. Kindred."

The words had a weight to them. Blood, Kindred. A clear meaning beyond the surface. It didn't occur to Witch to explain them, they were such a fact of her life.

“A big spiderweb?”

Ronan was skeptical. The kinds of spiderwebs he was familiar with were unimpressive and small, though he knew there were bigger spiders (and by extension, probably bigger spiderwebs) out there. And in another, more magical world, he could imagine a web being quite grandiose indeed. But on the other hand, with power like his, he could fit the kind of power that she was talking about into a small spiderweb simply by dreaming it to be that way.

He didn’t know what Blood and Kindred meant, although he could tell from the way she said them that they began with capital letters. It reminded him of how all the beings in the other place had acted like he was one of them, had encouraged him to return. Someday he would remember again what they all were to him, and be part of that again. He didn’t so much ask directly what she meant as hazard a guess. “They’re from the abyss, too.”


A good guess, but Witch shook her head. "The ones who made us Blood are. Blood are... the ones who live among, but are not of. Humans. Animals. From every species in my world. The Kindred, they are Blood who are not human."

Her mind went to her Kindred friends, the small dog and the large cat who had served in her Court. They were the dreamers who had held her to flesh. The Kindred had always been powerful dreamers, more powerful than humans.

Ronan didn’t get it, but that was okay. They didn’t have to understand each other perfectly. They were still alike, or at least he thought they were. Instead he asked her, “What do you want to dream about?”

"All kinds of things," Witch told him. She had a lot of favorite things, things that the body had done, sometimes to the dismay of those around her. "Riding horses across the meadow. Snowball fights. Flying."

Witch loved to fly, but she hadn't done it yet in this place. Wasn't sure if she could do it, if her magic would be strong enough here to support her entirely in the air.

“Let’s go flying,” Ronan suggested. Of those options, that was definitely his favorite. “Can you fly in here, or do you need my help with that?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted her to be able to manipulate his dreams too much, but well, it sure would make this part a little easier.


"Let's find out," Witch suggested. There was no way to know other than to try; she took a step up into the air, imagined it solid underneath her foot and trusted all her weight to it.

Standing half a foot above the ground wasn't the same as flying, but Witch said, quite reasonably as she stood there on thin air, "If I can air walk I can fly." After all, it wasn't so much manipulating his dreams as it was being able to be herself within them.

Ronan didn’t feel her manipulating the dream, but she was certainly aware of the properties of her own being inside of it, and maybe that was all that mattered. He gave her a hand and made the air around them start lifting them up, and then he went for the gusto and grew himself a pair of enormous, iridescent black wings, much like his beloved raven (but sized for him, or even a little larger). He gave her a mischievous grin and then took off into the sky, curious to see if she could keep up.

Witch didn't need wings to fly; she took off after him quick as a hawk. Quick as the Eyrien who had taught her to fly. Her own smile was delighted, and followed by silvery laughter as she cut through the air with intent.

There was one thing he didn't know about Witch&dmash;she would never be satisfied with just keeping up. It wasn't in her nature.

As soon as he saw that she could fly with him, Ronan really took off. His imagination filled the world around them with rainbow beams of light, lush rolling fields and forests, glittering bodies of water, and fluffy clouds. Some of the clouds and beams of light made musical sounds, and sometimes there was a flutter of vibrant birds, or a splash of rain and spark of lightning. Ronan wasn’t only concerned with going fast; he rolled and dipped in the air, occasionally dove headfirst towards the ground and then swept back up in defiance of gravity. He raced her sometimes and then went off in his own direction whether he was in the lead or behind.

Eventually he landed on a cloud – which didn’t have the density to hold him until he believed that it did – and lay on back to look up at the sky, elated and out of breath (even though he didn’t, strictly, need to breathe).


His reckless dives had been thrilling; Witch had taken a few of her own, as well, once he'd put the idea into her head. Andulvar and Prothvar would be furious with her if they had seen, but for the moment it was just Witch and the dreamer boy. She might have missed the two of them dearly, but she didn't miss the scolding she would have gotten for this.

Witch did a couple more swoops past him before she settled on thin air near his cloud with a contented sigh. "Dream flying is almost as good as really flying."

Almost. Witch wouldn't give it that last inch, no matter how real a dream could feel.

“I can’t really fly,” Ronan said wistfully. “At least, I haven’t managed it yet. Not for very long.” But he was better at dreaming now, learning new things all the time, so maybe… maybe he could dream himself a better way to fly. He’d dreamt himself wings once, but they hadn’t really worked the way he’d hoped.

In his head, he could hear Bryde saying, what is real? But no matter what Bryde said, the world of the waking had a reality to it that dreams couldn’t touch. So he wasn’t going to argue with Witch’s logic.


"Prothvar tried to tell me I couldn't fly when the body was a child. I surprised him by jumping out a window." Witch cocked her head to the side, lips quirking at the memory even as she allowed, "He didn't take it well."

That wasn't the point though, the point was... "You'll dream something that helps you fly someday. It just might take a little more dreaming than the rest."

“Did you fly, or did you hit the ground?” Ronan figured it was the first, but he had to ask, just to be sure. As he looked up at the sky it was starting to swirl with sunset colors and the stars were coming out. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, so maybe they had actually flown all “day” inside the dream. “What’s it like to really fly?”

"I stopped myself in the air a few feet down," she said. It wasn't quite the same as flying, but nothing really was.

As for his question... she pursed her lips, trying to find the right way to describe it. "It's a little like falling. But better, because you don't have to land until you want to. Or until you get tired."

Ronan considered this. He thought probably she meant that there were actual risks involved, unlike flying in a dream, where the physics of the dream would just change to prevent a fall hurting (unless it was a nightmare). There was no true swooping sensation in the gut when you dove from the air in a dream.

“Someday,” he said. “Someday I’ll figure it out.”


"You will." Witch couldn't be positive about that, but she sounded it anyway. If he could create this wondrous place, then he would eventually figure out how to fly in real life.

Until then, flying in a dream really was almost as good. The details were almost right.

"Would understanding how wings work help?" The question was genuine. Witch could explain the anatomy, the physics, of wings. She'd healed Lucivar's wings from the ground up.

“Probably,” Ronan agreed. He needed to know the true reality of an object to create it properly, to bring it back into the waking world. And he didn’t know how wings were supposed to work, especially for a human-shaped being.

It was possible, he considered, that this was part of the reason why Chainsaw hopped around a lot. Maybe he hadn’t made her wings properly, and they only flew because of magic, in spite of the physics of them. At least she could still fly, either way.


So she explained, the flex of muscles and the way delicate bones came together to form the frame. It was... frustrating, because there were some concepts that couldn't be conveyed by just words, but Witch didn't exactly have paper and pencil to demonstrate what she was talking about. So she painted the picture with words instead, as ineffective as they were.

The explanation was clinical, a healer's instead of a poet's, but she thought maybe that was what he needed anyway. That understanding of how the thing was made.

Ronan listened, and he wasn’t sure he fully understood, but it was still more understanding than he’d had before. He was tempted to try experimenting with wings, but it was starting to feel like he should be waking soon. “I’ll try again sometime,” he said. “Even if I can’t bring it back. Are you going to come visit me again?”

"I will," Witch promised. She didn't tell him when; it depended on other things, her life outside of the dreams and where they ended up and when. "I can help you practice. Even if you can't bring it back."

At least then when he could bring it back he'd have had time to perfect the process.

But it was time to go, so she told him, "I'll see you next time."

And then she dove; when she hit the ground, she was back in her own dreams, safe and sound.
NETWORK
Peter
You know, aside from all the political shit, I thought these fountain things would be a hell of a lot worse.

And I probably just jinxed us, my bad.

[ Caleb Danvers ]

You found anything interesting to do around here yet?

[ Destiny Rumancek ]

You abandoned me yesterday, I'm abandoning you today. Gonna find something fun to do. I'll try not to get in trouble.


Caleb
Interesting is definitely a word. I'm still not sure what happened. But the undercity was not boring.


Peter
Anything you wanna do again? Or try that you haven't? I'm bored, man.


Caleb
There's the arts and music festival. Those tend to have all types. Up for it?


Peter
Hey, I went to a museum, I'm pretty fucking cultured now. I'm up for it.


Caleb
Cultured or not, I am highly aware these things aren't for everyone. A museum tends to be a lot more uptight though. Case in point, my mother hated festivals.


Peter
Do you like them?


Caleb
I do.

I have a thing I should be back by 6 for, though. Not sure how long it'll last but the festival also goes until midnight. So if you're cool with my peeling off, we can be flexible.


Peter
Then fuck it, let's go.

Yeah, it's fine. I'll stay if I'm having a good time, go annoy Destiny if I'm not.


Caleb
I'll meet you in the lobby then?


Peter
Yep. Be down in a few.
Tags:

Mar. 20th, 2024


[info]elegy

info

elegy
el
pronouns: they/them
age: 35+
time zone: central
status: married, no kids, two dogs and three cats
Writing
⯌ experience 20+ years

⯌ style third-person seamless

⯌ location gdocs, threads

⯌ availability weekends, varied week nights depending on my husband's work schedule
Subject Matter
⯌ romance i love a good ship! a lot of the time i have ships planned going in, so definitely talk to me before approaching in-character with romantic intent, but if it's one of the times that i don't have a ship planned i'm usually open to seeing what develops.

⯌ smut my willingness to write smut varies wildly between characters and writing partners; a general rule of thumb is that if we're pretty familiar with each other, and it seems necessary for the sake of the scene, i will write it out. if not, fade-to-black.

⯌ conflict usually open to it, with some exceptions depending on character (ie., i will never allow anyone to hit adam parrish). i have some problems with arguments when they feel too "real" but as long as we're communicating ooc, it's fine. just talk to me beforehand if you think your character is going to take a swing or otherwise engage in some kind of violent behavior toward my character.

⯌ dark topics i'm generally okay as long as lines of communication stay open. i have some trauma around religion so if those themes are likely to come up i'd appreciate a warning. also, gaslighting and emotionally abusive behavior makes me anxious, so i'll likely avoid that sort of interaction unless it's necessary for plot.
Preferences
⯌ activity i love logs. like, love them. to the point where i will occasionally overcommit and slow myself down drastically. it's a problem. if you ask me about a log, i'm probably going to say yes unless i'm completely overwhelmed. less invested in network activity, but i'll participate. if there's something you want me to respond to specifically, it's better to link me to it directly to make sure i see it.

⯌ partners 18+ only, please, and i prefer to write with people closer to my own age if possible.

⯌ ooc communicating ooc is a big deal to me; if we can't communicate well ooc, we're likely not going to write together well. i like to get excited about our idiots and spam each other with memes and gifs.

⯌ extras i like to make extras for my characters and ships... aesthetics, playlists, that's my shit. i will never expect anyone else to do the same, so please don't feel pressured by me linking you random shit that i've made for our ships.
Tags:

[info]elegy

muses







ACHERON P.
DARK-HUNTER
STEVEN STRAIT

inactive








ADAM PARRISH
THE RAVEN CYCLE
FROY GUTIERREZ

active








ALUCARD EMERY
SHADES OF MAGIC
DEV PATEL

inactive








B WHITAKER
ORIGINAL
MISHA OSHEROVICH

active








BAPHOMET
WICDIV
TATE CHERNEN

active








BECKETT MARINER
STAR TREK
TAWNY NEWSOME

inactive








BLAKE KENNEDY
ORIGINAL
VANESSA MORGAN

active








CINNA
HUNGER GAMES
LENNY KRAVITZ

inactive








COUNT D
PSOH
AARON BERNARDS

inactive








CROWLEY
SUPERNATURAL
MARK SHEPPARD

inactive








DAN TORRANCE
KINGVERSE
EWAN MACGREGOR

inactive








DAVID HALLER
LEGION
DAN STEVENS

inactive








ELIDA AL-FEYR
VAGRANT QUEEN
ADRIYAN RAE

inactive








ELISKA VASILY
ORIGINAL
EMERAUDE TOUBIA

inactive








FINLEY MELVILLE
ORIGINAL
JACK FALAHEE

active








FIZZAROLLI
HELLAVERSE
ANIMATION

active








GUIDEAU
TW&TB
NATALIE ALYN LIND

active








HUNTER
MARVEL (MISC)
EVE HARLOW

inactive








HUSK
HELLAVERSE
ANIMATION

active








JACK FOWLER
ORIGINAL
DAVE FRANCO

inactive








JAENELLE A.
THE BLACK JEWELS
SVETLANA K.

active








JASON TODD
DC
JACOB ELORDI

active








JOHNNY JAQOBIS
KILLJOYS
AARON ASHMORE

inactive








JORDAN LI
THE BOYS
DEREK L. & LONDON T.

active








JULIO RICHTER
MARVEL (616)
GAEL GARCIA BERNAL

inactive








KAMERON AYRES
ORIGINAL
TOM HARDY

inactive








LARTEN CREPSLEY
CIRQUE DU FREAK
JOHN C. REILLY

inactive








LAURA WILSON
WICDIV
ANTONIA THOMAS

inactive








LOKI
MARVEL (MCU)
TOM H. & EVA G.

active








LUIS
MODERN FAERIE
ALGEE SMITH

active








LUKE SKYWALKER
STAR WARS
MARK HAMMILL

inactive








MALACHAI JACOBS
ORIGINAL
NOEL FISHER

active








MAX BANES
SUPERNATURAL
KENDRICK SAMPSON

inactive








MAZIKEEN
LUCIFER
LESLEY-ANN BRANDT

inactive








MICKEY MILKOVICH
SHAMELESS
NOEL FISHER

inactive








NATALIA BELLAMY
ORIGINAL
JENNA THIAM

inactive








NOAH LAZARUS
ORIGINAL
AARON ASHMORE

active








OLIVER WALLACE
ORIGINAL
LOUIS PARTRIDGE

active








PETER RUMANCEK
HEMLOCK GROVE
LANDON LIBOIRON

active








PRIMROSE E.
HUNGER GAMES
WILLOW SHIELDS

inactive








P. CASSIDY
PREACHER
JOE GILGIN

inactive








QROW BRANWEN
RWBY
ERIC MCCORMACK

inactive








RIVER TAM
FIREFLY
SUMMER GLAU

active








SANDALIO DE R.
PARASOLVERSE
KEENAN TRACEY

active








SANTANICO P.
FDTD
EIZA GONZALEZ

inactive








SARA LANCE
DCTV
CAITY LOTZ

inactive








STOLAS
HELLAVERSE
ANIMATION

active








TAMAR K.
GRISHAVERSE
ANNA LEONG BROPHY

inactive








TEDDY ALTMAN
MARVEL (616)
MASON DYE

inactive








VAGGIE
HELLAVERSE
ANIMATION

inactive








VIRGINIA LEWIS
THE 10TH KINGDOM
KIMBERLY WILLIAMS

inactive








WILLOUGHBY K.
DOOM PATROL
MARK SHEPPARD

inactive









ZANE ROBERTS
ORIGINAL
LANDON LIBOIRON

active







Tags:

[info]elegy

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