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Rating: 3-3-3

Word Count: None

Fandoms: All

Canons: Open/Oc's Welcome!

Bans: Howard the Duck,
RPF* Real Person Fiction; IE Apping an actual celebrity

Main Rule:Don't Be a Dick

OOC min age:18


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Thread Contributor: Captain Jas HookDo Be Quiet Smee - I'm Dancing
Peter Pan-Hook 1991

4 Posts
3 Threads
Age:Ageless
Job: Pirate
Ship Status: Single - Possible. Though Unlikely.
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
2Scribble

Points: 472.6€
#1
DANCING IS TOO IMPORTANT
One cannot be cheerful while dancing
Stumbling slightly - his boots scraping against the... floor? Was this the floor? Staring at the strangely crystal-like stone; Hook's mustache twitched as the winds of magic blew past him and collapsed the portal he'd stepped through. Raising a bushy well-trimmed eyebrow - Hook stared in curiosity as peopled bustled past him like he wasn't even there.

"It's everywhere... everything!"

Hook couldn't quite believe it - this was... ... ... different. He'd passed to worlds before - through worlds - between worlds. But this... that magic he'd tasted - sensed - bent and twisted to allow him to step where he'd wanted; this place WAS magic. And yet it was not. It was everywhere - everything - but it was beyond his reach. There was also that strange blankness - that emptiness - that machinery he still barely understood. That technology that the fey knew nothing about. Spinning around slowly as he took in the place he'd appeared in; Hook wondered if this was some debarkation site - as suggested by the people meandering around him as if he weren't there - or if his own fey-riddled nature had caused the portal to deposit him here.

"Or be it mine own cursed form of luck..."

A being less than Hook - a being who did not adapt - who did not understand - who did not LEARN simply by looking - might have been afraid. Confused. Until now he had contented himself - informed himself - that he alone could access the the portals. This proved that couldn't possibly be true. Further, it suggested this... ... ... method of passing through worlds extended to MANY others. As Hook slowly began to pass through the crowd - people beginning to give him a birth as he strode masterfully along - he began to wonder. With his boots clicking against the stone-lined boulevard - he began to think. Was that a fountain? Children playing? What was that light that filled this place? The sun? Various suns? A grass-filled park extending beyond? What kind of grass was that? RED grass?!

"No captain would need a ship in this place - wonders exist simply for the taking..." His hand tracing over the bottle contained within the pocket of his coat - Hook felt the magic of the Jolly Roger bubbling within. The ship had returned to where it always returned when Hook entered a world where it couldn't manifest. His crew - safely aboard the roger within the bottle - knew not where their Captain had gone. They never did. To them they were still on the sea - time seemed not to pass for them. They were part of his curse - but he WAS the curse, "Such is probably best..." Hook thought to himself. "This place calls for a subtly and finesse far beyond their limited minds"

His feet starting to move with a mind of their own - Hook was drawn by the waltz before he'd even realized it was playing. Across the crowd at the edge of the red grass; he could see a bazaar - of sorts. People and creatures and... BEINGS milling about. Yet they held small interest for him. The music had taken his full attention. The dancers moving gracefully - clad in summer gowns and suits befitting their various genders - seemed not far out of the world Hook had known of old. Bustles - corsets - stockings - ties - hats... they seemed as people he had known in another life. Bright colors - French fashion - this was another time - another world - another life - and it was... ... dancing in the middle of a park filled with red grass - to music played by a band of the most extraordinary beings Hook had ever seen. On instruments Hook knew nothing of.

Taking all this in - in merely an instant - Hook's attention was taken by a young flame haired child. On the cusp of womanhood she stood out more than any other primarily because of the fierceness with which she danced. Her partner, however, was quite inept. Shy and lacking the boldness required for such a lady - he was constantly tripping over himself in his attempts to lead her; rather than to join with her and the music. Raising an eyebrow bemusedly as, in between a movement, the flame haired girl whirled around - caught him in amongst the folds of her dress - and flipped him onto the floor. Yelling at him for being so clumsy while he shouted back about her stubbornness. Passing through the dancers effortlessly due to his stature and commanding presence - Hook had the girl's hand in his hand before she could slap her partner, "Madame," Hook said forcefully, "This boy is just that - a boy... you may do well to TEACH him before you decry him,"

Seemingly transfixed by Hook - without even asking his name - the girl raised her hands and Hook, never one to slight a lady, doffed his Captain's hat onto the boy's lap, "Watch," he barked at the boy before taking her hands and spinning with her onto the floor. Effortlessly taking the lead in the fast paced waltz - the band began quickening its pace as Hook and the girl quickly began to stand out amongst the other dancers. The girl was magnificent in her role - complimenting Hook's masterful grace and ease of movement. While no comparison to his own gifted form - Hook could not help but be impressed. Most importantly, perhaps the most important thing of all, she was not cheerful or talkative. One could not be cheerful while dancing. And she knew it. She knew, as all good dancers did, that dancing was too important.

Spinning away from the girl with a flourish - nodding his appreciation as she bowed. Hook bent down - scooped up his hat - and grabbed the boy by the hand. Ignoring the boy's protest as he posed him; Hook barked, "I shall lead!" and - as the band started up again - he spun back onto the floor. The boy, now the center of attention, was forced to comply. With a steel hook on the end of his leading arm - and his gloved hand forcefully planted in the boy's back - the boy had no choice but to give Hook the lead, "Right. Left - do NOT hold onto my hook so tightly. Release your desire for control - you do NOT deserve it. And LOOK at me boy!!" watching the boy flinch as he was forced to take the more submissive role - Hook nodded, "And SMILE!" his temperament towards the boy starting to lessen as the boy stopped vying for control - Hook realized he must have some addle-brained opinion on his role. A creature with such a will as the boy's partner was NOT one to follow. The sooner this man-child learned that the better.

Spinning the boy as he had the girl - Hook nodded in approval as the boy gracefully slid into a crouch and bowed to him, "You are no master - but you have grace. Leave the mastery to your counterpart," tapping the brim of his hat to the girl as she smiled smugly at her bewildered partner - Hook didn't say a word as she effortlessly swept the boy up in her arms and spun him onto the dance floor. So intent on thinking of some come-back - ANY come-back to Hook - the boy didn't even notice the girl taking the lead. And by the time he questioned it - the music was playing - and his partner was standing close to him - and he was too focused on that most important thing - dancing - to question it.

Grunting his approval at the PROPER method of dance beyond employed by these young people - Hook tugged forcefully on the lapels of his coat and slowly began to approach the bazaar he'd sighted earlier. What was this place? Where was he? And what manner of magic - or machinery - made this place... ... ... a place? Moreover - Hook wondered, his boots still tapping slightly to the music as he walked along the red grass - could this power he sensed... be harnessed?

TAG. ANYONE | NOTES. lemme know if you need changes
I am IX.
Oh I hate being disappointed

And I hate living in this flawed body.

And I hate Neverland.

And I hate.

I Hate.

I HATE Peter Pan!
Reply
Harry Potter-Main Universe

58 Posts
6 Threads
Age:36
Job:
Ship Status:
Sexual Orientation:
Mike

All Accounts Posts: 922
Points: 616.96€
#2
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.


The words passed through Oryn’s mind as the surface of the Hub rushed up toward him. It was an odd sensation, really. The ground was so far beneath him that it barely seemed to move, even as the air rushed past him. He was now moving too quickly to even disapparate to a safe location, terminal velocity being what it was. How long would it be before he reached the ground, before the world expanded before him to swallow him up, claim him into darkness? Did he have full minutes? Seconds? Probably the former, but time was an enigma at just that moment. There was just Oryn and the rush of the wind, as the land grew into sharper detail. This was something that would be difficult for any wizard to survive, now, but he felt nothing but exhilaration as he plunged through the air.

His body shifted, strained against itself, reshaping beneath his will along lines that were now becoming second nature to him. He felt himself growing lighter, sleeker, more predatory, until finally above the Hub a golden eagle spread its wings, leveling out gracefully from its dive and gliding through the air over the ever-changing landscape of the boroughs.

Three months it had taken. One month holding that blasted leaf under his tongue day and night, another month because the full moon had been cloudy, ruining the process, and one final month waiting for an electrical storm to complete the ritual, but now it was done, and Oryn was changed. He was more. Oh, true, the power to assume an animal form was, to some, trivial, but now he couldn’t dream of a time when he couldn’t simply take to wing with a thought, rise above the masses, survey all that lay before him with a raptor’s keen gaze.

A curious scene was playing out beneath him, and the eagle glided down, landing on a low rooftop and watching the progress of this man who seemed to part the crowds around him like a heated knife through soft butter, this man with such a force of personality that he didn’t even hesitate in this alien environment, but instead persisted in his own way, commanding the situation, refusing to let the unfamiliarity of the situation dictate his behavior any more than he apparently let the loss of one hand dictate his capabilities. Within moments, he was in command of not only people’s attention, but the entire gathering, with all eyes upon him, the musicians playing to suit him, with no one questioning the absolute authority that he imposed upon all around him.

Oryn liked him immediately.

As the good Captain moved along from the dance he had imposed his order upon, the eagle hopped from the roof, wings flapping three times to slow its descent, until it wasn’t the flapping of wings but a swishing of robes as the form of the capable, steel-eyed wizard replaced that of the raptor, paces matching the captain’s as he himself joined the throng of people entering the bazaar.

“I know not the world that those people came from,” Oryn remarked as he joined him upon that invisible, yet easily sensed boundary between the bazaar and the boroughs, between the Hub and the shaped illusions that spilled in from countless worlds, “But I feel fairly certain that that boy just learned more here in a few short minutes than he ever did from any teacher in the world he came from.” As Oryn surveyed the man, he had no doubt that he would be able to learn something from the man, but in what manner of teaching would they engage? A master and a pupil? Certainly not, Oryn could easily tell that neither of them would cede mastery to the other, nor to any other man they came across. That left either of two possibilities, of course. Either they could recognize each other as equals in their way (as much as anyone from disparate backgrounds could be equal to each other), or they would be set opposed to each other, vying to prove that the other was beneath them. They would both learn much from either arrangement, he supposed, but he rather hoped that this man would not end up opposed to him. Whatever the case… Oryn felt sure that the arrangement would not be dull.
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Peter Pan-Hook 1991

4 Posts
3 Threads
Age:Ageless
Job: Pirate
Ship Status: Single - Possible. Though Unlikely.
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
2Scribble

Points: 472.6€
#3
cities made of song
Perhaps that is all this is... a song or a dream
Any other person would have drawn their sword.

Any other person would have swung that vicious life-ending hook without a second's thought at the sound of those fluttering wings.

Any other person had no sense of adventure...

Hook felt the building - the swaying - the adulation of magic around this creature before he saw it. He'd felt it's difference as soon as its eyes had lighted on him. It tugged at him - called to him - magic swirled around this creature. Not the magic of the fey - a different magic. But this was Hook. Hook was all magic. Could he tap into that magic? Could he harness it? Alter it? What spell - what incantation - what WILL held such power in place? Could it be bent? Would it break?

As the wings formed a robe - as the feathers formed into cloth - as the beak became a nose - Hook made no sign that he'd noticed his new compatriot. His pace leisurely as his iron will curiously probed the magical energies emanating from this being. As one almost discussing a rainy day; Hook said, "I have seen worlds where the sky is burning. Where the the sea is asleep and the rivers dream. I have seen people made of smoke and cities made of song," turning to look at the garden party - and the fountain - and the crystal path and the red grass; Hook cocked his head and said, "Perhaps that is all this is... a song or a dream. A fantasy conjured by the mercurial whims of sprites..." a wicked half-smile crossed his face as he said, "If one believes in such things, of course,"

Turning away from the waltz and the party and the people - Hook reached out and passed his hand through the air. He could feel it. The magic again - blowing. Swirling against his gloved palm. He could SEE the bazaar - the place where the red grass ended - as if had been built there. Yet none of the people at the party seemed to notice it - or even care about it. Were they aware of it? Had one of them pulled this place here? Or had this place always been here? Probing the 'boundary' with his hand - Hook smirked that wicked smile again as the magical being beside him commented on the boy and the girl, "I have known women who are fire - power - a passionate existence all to themselves... to break something - to simply pass down your will - is to deprive oneself of the very unique adventure that draws one to them,"

Hook sniffed in an amused manner, "Besides. He was quite a jolly good dancer when he realized he was a pebble - rather than the mountain," withdrawing his hand from the boundary finally - Hook glanced fully for the first time at his new compatriot and tapped the brim of his hat before passing through the boundary and into the bazaar.

The smell - the air - the tone changed instantly. The sounds of the park - the smell of the red grass - the taste of the breeze was completely different here. The magic didn't swirl here - there was no pull - no tug. And no give. It didn't respond to his thoughts or will - it didn't even seem interested in him. As still and stout as stone. It was rare - for Hook - to feel his iron will, and its desire to flex and bend and break enchantments, to come up against something so utterly unbent and unbroken. But this place was the very definition of that. Raising a bushy brow as he took the bazaar in - Hook grinned like a cheshire cat as he spread his arms and said, "Magnificent,"

And magnificent this place was. A numberless line of stalls and mats and market fronts lined barely walkable paths. People and creatures and beings spilled from place to place - bumping into each other. Pickpockets - from the elderly to the young - bumped into their targets and wandered off without notice. Catching one particularly ragged old woman as she bounded past him with his hand - Hook spun her around and started brushing her off, "I do BEG your pardon, madame, I don't know what came over me - I just suddenly felt all faint. Do you find that happens from time to time as you get older? My goodness!" nodding his understanding as the ratty old woman sputtered that she had to move along - Hook said, "Of course, madame, of course - may I say, though, that it is RARE for one to meet a beauty such as you..." kissing her hand - Hook smiled sweetly as she blushed and thanked him - blushing even harder as he handed her a rose that he'd nicked off one of the stalls in the collision.

Watching the woman scurry away - spinning around to bow to him at least three times before tripping over some children and then bolting off - Hook nodded to his compatriot and said, "Yes. A truly remarkable flower..." producing a rather heavy purse - filled with some strange currency - that the woman had obviously stolen from several other patrons; Hook tossed it in the air for the wizard to catch, "With some rather remarkable... ... blooms, one might say,"

TAG. ANYONE | NOTES. lemme know if you need changes
I am IX.
Oh I hate being disappointed

And I hate living in this flawed body.

And I hate Neverland.

And I hate.

I Hate.

I HATE Peter Pan!
Reply
Harry Potter-Main Universe

58 Posts
6 Threads
Age:36
Job:
Ship Status:
Sexual Orientation:
Mike

All Accounts Posts: 922
Points: 616.96€
#4
He didn’t draw his weapon. Pity, really, Oryn was more than curious about the nature of this new man, and nothing told you more about a person than what they did in the first few passes of even a quick duel. Of course, the fact that he didn’t draw told Oryn a slew of other things, but he could have guessed those things about his personality anyway. This man wasn’t a wizard, he certainly wasn’t equipped like one, but something about him made Oryn hesitate to call him a muggle either. This place, though, held all sorts of oddities that fell outside the usual categories of Oryn’s homeworld that the term ‘wizard’ had to be classified much more… broadly these days.

“And you make me consider that I need to do more traveling,” Oryn admitted. “I spend so much of my time concerning myself with the oddities that come from these worlds that I’ve neglected to take my time to study the worlds themselves. Granted… there’s been much to acquaint myself with.” He couldn’t decide if this man was new to the Hub, or if he was simply reserving judgement on its nature. He certainly didn’t seem to be off his footing like some people tended to be here, which was a pleasant turn.

He watched the man as he felt out the boundary between the boroughs and what Oryn thought of as the Hub proper. Yes, the man definitely had some sort of power about him, enough to know that he was in someplace special, enough to detect the change in the world (if you could call the Hub a world). With the man’s assessment of the place, though, Oryn could find no fault it all. “That it is,” he said, peering over the mixing ground that lay in the middle of the Hub. This area (like many of the areas that were closest to the boroughs) was mostly shopping, and mostly temporary shopping at that. Oryn would have to take the time to look around later, some of the best things could be found in such places, treasures that were brought by some lucky adventurer that they wanted to unload privately. And, of course, there was the unfortunate byproduct of such a center of commerce, which his new companion had detected and dealt with quite dexterously. Oryn himself knew that a hand had found his purse, but he let it go for a moment, smiling as his new friend hefted the purse he’d liberated over to him. “Unfortunately, there are always some who want to pick the flowers in other people’s gardens,” he remarked, casually drawing out his wand and making a flicking gesture behind him. There was a sudden yelp as a boy, about eleven years old, if Oryn had to judge, suddenly found himself counting coins that grew red hot in his hand.

The coins leapt into the air as the boy dropped them, zipping up one at a time to Oryn’s waiting hand as the wizard peered down at the flustered, indignant boy. He was a filthy thing, face streaked with dirt, grubby clothes obviously gathered from various sources for their availability and not because they fit him particularly well. He stared up at Oryn in a sullen defiance as the wizard strolled over, but Oryn noticed, to the boy’s credit, that his eyes tracked down to his wand, twitching at every flick of it. The wizard stared down at the boy for a tense moment, then with a flick of his wand sent a heavy gold galleon flitting back at him, smacking the boy flatly in the cheek. “Be careful, boy,” the wizard said, “Not everyone has a weakness for forgiving youthful mistakes.”

Glancing back at Hook, organizing his mind to push back the thoughts he’d skimmed from the surface of the frightened, hungry boy’s mind, Oryn slipped the wand back into his robes. “Suddenly, I’m feeling the need for a drink. Do you think that it’s perhaps time to celebrate your first arrival in the Hub?”

@scrib
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