Canon-AU (Change this one thing, large or small/how the world works/in-world events etc)
Full AU (Transplant from one world to another, but AU'd into the new world)
Dimension-hop (Transplant with canon memories in tact)
General Good Ol' Fashioned Tropes
Jamjar-style with an original universe setting (ala a game OR lifting a previous/other game setting simply for the purpose of the PSL ie Duplicity, Noctium, Random Underwater City, Random Magic city in the cky etc)
Smut/shipping welcome as long as it either makes sense or is built up into making sense
ABO/Monster kink/Ds stuff welcome wtfever you want to play let's do it
General Nos/needs discussion
Rape/full non-con plots
Torture-porn/excessive gore
Completely Grimmdark/Hopeless Settings
Modern AUs unless there's an interesting angle to work with for the characters in question
HOW THIS WORKS
Comment with who you're looking for/what character combo we're wanting
Feel free to put a starter, a general idea/scenario with as much or little detail as you'd like, or a general vibe of a thing if you Have A Feeling but not a plan!
Can be a scene or a full PSL with multiple plot points/scenes or change from one to the other depending on what we're feeling
Hit me up on Lysoke or Discord (Lysoke#7079) or PM or right here for any plotting/discussion before or after/during!
This is LOW PRESSURE when you want to play, I'll be here and if you lose interest/don't have time/don't want to for ANY reason no problem at all! Just let me know and we can pause or abandon or revamp, this is supposed to be fun!
Probably gonna be slow paced unless I happen to be around to boomerang just due to work or other hobbies, but that doesn't mean I'm not excited about it, promise!
[Not for him. Not for either of them, though their reasons differ sharply. Anders is still wounded from his loss, even Fenris can see that. Has seen that, in bits and fragments over the past two months. Longing gazes and grief . . . oh, yes, the mage wears his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse, and Fenris knows just how badly he must be aching.
For Fenris . . .]
There is no solace to be found here. Only survival.
[That's a bit more grim than he truly feels, but it rings honest right now. But ah, ah, this isn't going anywhere . . . it's not that Fenris won't spitefully shoot himself in the foot for the sake of aggravating Anders, but maybe not today. Maybe not when (for once) it isn't Anders he's truly angry at.
So: a deep breath. His fingers flex, but he's silent for a moment, willing himself to calm down just a touch. His eyes track Anders as he wanders around the kitchen, widening slightly in surprise as he pulls out a bottle of something alcoholic.
That's new.]
And who have you found?
[It's an honest question. It's also said with some measure: an attempt at not spitefully snarling in his face. I am doing what I can, and he knows. He really does. He'll acknowledge it sooner or later, but oh, Maker, this is hard.
He approaches slowly, almost warily. They've never come to outright physical blows, but still, Fenris would not fault him for startling if he came too quickly. But ah, alcohol is a tempting lure.]
['That seems grim, even for you' is on the tip of his tongue, but he washes it back with a sip of his drink, which he then topped off again. Maybe not too grim for this Fenris, still mostly fresh from Thedas. A couple months was hardly enough time to expect to see much of a difference. If he ever did...he shouldn't compare this Fenris to the one he'd known. They were entirely different men on more than one level.
Instead, he says nothing and turns his mind to the question. His eyes linger on Fenris a moment as he seems to cautiously approach the island between them, then turns to get another glass to serve some for his new housemate as well.
Who was left? Even beyond the obvious absences, a large chunk of the people Anders had known and relied on had vanished over the last few months before Fenris' arrival. Now he had...well, while he was certain Anduin would manage to have a calming effect on Fenris, he didn't feel comfortable offering the much younger man as a bedpartner. Lux was gone -also a demon, which would have been a bigger issue- Rose was gone...also magic. Vanessa would be curteous and wonderful as usual, he was sure, but she was a witch. Albus was also magically inclined and Dorian was entirely off the table. Even with whatever odd arrangement had been between the magister and the other Fenris, Anders wanted no part in whatever storm that might brew if they met again.
He didn't know the man, but Tim Stoker seemed...oh, no, his thing wasn't just against magic, he had some non-human bias ridiculousness as well. Nevermind. Sasha might be good for Fenris, but Anders would rather talk to his assistant about it first rather than throw her name around without consulting her.
He slid the glass across the counter with a small sigh.]
The main people I'd have to offer are, admittedly, mostly mages. A lot of the people I trusted who were not magically inclined are no longer around. Though you might look up Poe Dameron. He's a good man and not a mage, also already involved so he's less likely to come with any sort of...complications.
[He takes another small sip. Then a larger one.]
If it's simply 'survival' as you so eloquently put it, I have other names, so long as you aren't too delicate about them being magic users.
[There was also...right there in their contract...but he'd need the rest of this glass before he could even begin to consider bringing that up.]
[Oh, he thinks, for he'd meant partners for Anders, not Fenris— Maker, no, he doesn't expect Anders to find him someone. But what an odd rush of emotions the mage's response induces, so much so that Fenris can't quite parse them at first. It's just a swell of emotion, that's all, confusing and a little disorienting. He blinks just once, surprise written in his expression, before reaching for the glass.]
I meant for you, mage. Not I. Who is it you'll seek, now that you need to find someone?
[He sets the glass to his lips, relishing the sharp sting of that initial sip. That odd tangle of emotion sits against his breastbone, frightfully loud, disorienting his fury and his line of thought both. Should he be resentful Anders thought of him first? Is it an act of pity? Oh, Fenris surely can't find someone on his own, but no, it doesn't feel like that. Besides: trust that if Anders was acting spitefully, he'd let Fenris know. Their fights aren't subtle, not at all.
So what, then? Grateful that he automatically weeded out anyone wielding magic? That seems the very least someone could do, you could argue, but Fenris would have understood if Anders hadn't. It would have been a petty thing, spitefully thoughtless, but not out of line, given the antagonistic relationship they have. But no. He doesn't just acknowledge that unspoken boundary; he abides by it, with no snide comments or passive-aggressive jabs. Fenris hadn't expected that.
But gratitude isn't the emotion filling him either. It's just . . . it's messy, that's all. It's messy and difficult to parse, and he takes another sip, trying to distract himself from it. He isn't reading into it, at least, he knows that for sure. This isn't some idiotic rush of gratitude and admiration out of a simple act of kindness. But it's . . .
Well. It was unexpected, that's all. And maybe that's what it boils down to: that it's a kindness. He always anticipates the worst from Anders, but . . . well. This is the second time in as many hours that he's done Fenris a kindness. Perhaps he ought to stop startling at them so much.
Oh, who knows. A third sip, and it's not as if bourbon is tame; already he can feel his hackles settling. The set of his shoulders lower; that constant tension he carries within him, coiled action ready be unleashed at the slightest notice, eases. He isn't relaxed, but . . . oh, there's a reason alcohol is a vice. It's so falsely soothing.]
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makinglies2021-06-14 01:43 pm
no subject
Solace. Is that what we're calling it?
[Not for him. Not for either of them, though their reasons differ sharply. Anders is still wounded from his loss, even Fenris can see that. Has seen that, in bits and fragments over the past two months. Longing gazes and grief . . . oh, yes, the mage wears his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse, and Fenris knows just how badly he must be aching.
For Fenris . . .]
There is no solace to be found here. Only survival.
[That's a bit more grim than he truly feels, but it rings honest right now. But ah, ah, this isn't going anywhere . . . it's not that Fenris won't spitefully shoot himself in the foot for the sake of aggravating Anders, but maybe not today. Maybe not when (for once) it isn't Anders he's truly angry at.
So: a deep breath. His fingers flex, but he's silent for a moment, willing himself to calm down just a touch. His eyes track Anders as he wanders around the kitchen, widening slightly in surprise as he pulls out a bottle of something alcoholic.
That's new.]
And who have you found?
[It's an honest question. It's also said with some measure: an attempt at not spitefully snarling in his face. I am doing what I can, and he knows. He really does. He'll acknowledge it sooner or later, but oh, Maker, this is hard.
He approaches slowly, almost warily. They've never come to outright physical blows, but still, Fenris would not fault him for startling if he came too quickly. But ah, alcohol is a tempting lure.]
no subject
Instead, he says nothing and turns his mind to the question. His eyes linger on Fenris a moment as he seems to cautiously approach the island between them, then turns to get another glass to serve some for his new housemate as well.
Who was left? Even beyond the obvious absences, a large chunk of the people Anders had known and relied on had vanished over the last few months before Fenris' arrival. Now he had...well, while he was certain Anduin would manage to have a calming effect on Fenris, he didn't feel comfortable offering the much younger man as a bedpartner. Lux was gone -also a demon, which would have been a bigger issue- Rose was gone...also magic. Vanessa would be curteous and wonderful as usual, he was sure, but she was a witch. Albus was also magically inclined and Dorian was entirely off the table. Even with whatever odd arrangement had been between the magister and the other Fenris, Anders wanted no part in whatever storm that might brew if they met again.
He didn't know the man, but Tim Stoker seemed...oh, no, his thing wasn't just against magic, he had some non-human bias ridiculousness as well. Nevermind. Sasha might be good for Fenris, but Anders would rather talk to his assistant about it first rather than throw her name around without consulting her.
He slid the glass across the counter with a small sigh.]
The main people I'd have to offer are, admittedly, mostly mages. A lot of the people I trusted who were not magically inclined are no longer around. Though you might look up Poe Dameron. He's a good man and not a mage, also already involved so he's less likely to come with any sort of...complications.
[He takes another small sip. Then a larger one.]
If it's simply 'survival' as you so eloquently put it, I have other names, so long as you aren't too delicate about them being magic users.
[There was also...right there in their contract...but he'd need the rest of this glass before he could even begin to consider bringing that up.]
no subject
[Oh, he thinks, for he'd meant partners for Anders, not Fenris— Maker, no, he doesn't expect Anders to find him someone. But what an odd rush of emotions the mage's response induces, so much so that Fenris can't quite parse them at first. It's just a swell of emotion, that's all, confusing and a little disorienting. He blinks just once, surprise written in his expression, before reaching for the glass.]
I meant for you, mage. Not I. Who is it you'll seek, now that you need to find someone?
[He sets the glass to his lips, relishing the sharp sting of that initial sip. That odd tangle of emotion sits against his breastbone, frightfully loud, disorienting his fury and his line of thought both. Should he be resentful Anders thought of him first? Is it an act of pity? Oh, Fenris surely can't find someone on his own, but no, it doesn't feel like that. Besides: trust that if Anders was acting spitefully, he'd let Fenris know. Their fights aren't subtle, not at all.
So what, then? Grateful that he automatically weeded out anyone wielding magic? That seems the very least someone could do, you could argue, but Fenris would have understood if Anders hadn't. It would have been a petty thing, spitefully thoughtless, but not out of line, given the antagonistic relationship they have. But no. He doesn't just acknowledge that unspoken boundary; he abides by it, with no snide comments or passive-aggressive jabs. Fenris hadn't expected that.
But gratitude isn't the emotion filling him either. It's just . . . it's messy, that's all. It's messy and difficult to parse, and he takes another sip, trying to distract himself from it. He isn't reading into it, at least, he knows that for sure. This isn't some idiotic rush of gratitude and admiration out of a simple act of kindness. But it's . . .
Well. It was unexpected, that's all. And maybe that's what it boils down to: that it's a kindness. He always anticipates the worst from Anders, but . . . well. This is the second time in as many hours that he's done Fenris a kindness. Perhaps he ought to stop startling at them so much.
Oh, who knows. A third sip, and it's not as if bourbon is tame; already he can feel his hackles settling. The set of his shoulders lower; that constant tension he carries within him, coiled action ready be unleashed at the slightest notice, eases. He isn't relaxed, but . . . oh, there's a reason alcohol is a vice. It's so falsely soothing.]