bakerstreet | can i quote you on that?

[ info and permissions in journal. ]

one.

Time will pass
you'll remember water
will seek other water
always downhill,
and though brackish water is half ocean, half rain
impurities can make water cleaner
cancelling your heart.
You're alive.

- Fani Papageorgiou, The Purloined Letter

two.

Time it took us
To where the water was
That's what the water gave me
And time goes quicker
Between the two of us
Oh, my love, don't forsake me
Take what the water gave me

- Florence + the Machine, What the Water Gave Me

three.

Oh my God
I see how everything is torn
In the river deep
And I don't know why
I go the way
Down by the riverside

- Agnes Obel, Riverside

wildcard.

Bring your own!

I.

I'll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love most can never hear.
- Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dyer

II.

They say age brings wisdom, but it isn't true. All you ever get is a berter sense of your own limitations.
- Curtis Edmonds, Rain on Your Wedding Day

III.

Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. That it can never be your weakness. Amor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.
- George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

IV.

Bring your own!

1. The wolves will chase you by the pale moonlight
(Drunk and driven by a devil's hunger)
Drive your son like a railroad spike
(Into the water, let it pull him under)
Don't you lift him, let him drown alive
(The good Lord speaks like a rolling thunder)
Let that fever make the water rise
(And let the river run dry)
- Bottom of the River by Delta Rae

2. Well I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call

And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall
- Diamonds and Rust by Joan Baez

3. What do you do with tenderness
when all you expect is fury?
- Hieu Nguyen

4. They asked, "Do you love her to death?"
I said, "Speak of her over my grave
and watch how she brings me back to life."
- Love Talks by Mahmoud Darwish

5. What is a ghost? A tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and time again? Something dead which still seems to be alive. An emotion suspended in time like a blurred photograph.
- Guillermo Del Toro

6. It's not your body that I love
But it's the shell you're inside of
And you're killing it, you're killing
The only piece of you I can touch
It's not your body that I need
But that's what sleeps next to me
And you're killing it, you're killing it
- Please Eat by Nicole Dollanganger

7. Bring your own prompt.]

( castmates preferred. )

[ Infopost here if you'd like tl;dr on Ruth's whole deal. Interested in canon and cross-canon CR, cool with assumed cr. ]

[ Quick ref/impressions here!

As a heads up in advance, Briar deals with some weird meta/fourth wall leaning shit just as the premise of her universe but I'm happy to just handwave that and ignore it if it isn't your jam lmao ]

[ The apprentice Imaginieer often got onto his nerves. The whimsical way she viewed her worlds writing stories where things were almost - actually childish. Initially invoked resentment upon him, not because what she wanted were stories with happy endings. A means where things are constructive and not destructive - but because she lacked the experience other Imaginieers or writers - - - as Mun is not entirely certain of their world, held. They were young, learning, and absolutely full of a sense of bewilderment that Andersen himself could not look away from.

Much like a beaming bright light, with such enigmatic energy upon it. Truly fitting for one who would take reign of Libretto.

At the same time, he held annoyance of the other. Resentment. Perhaps mild envy, it was the simple matter that someone so in awe of the world could exist plainly at such an ample age. Certainly, the world upon her will take and empty her entirely. How long until such whim will be of her? Til' the world dresses her with its pessimisms and show to she the true nature of story telling. Destruction were amicable and viable means in order to construct a world needing shape. The grounds where a house is to be made, need be destroyed before it is formed entirely.

Much can use such a metaphor, except for people that in itself. People were whole from the start. Whole at the beginning, and then as life goes on. The world takes away from them until they are left, how they are left.

He could not help but admire the young girl, more or less like an older teacher of sorts looking upon them. Yet it was also very true, that she were a muse that inspired him to write once again.]

What are you doing now?

[ He says sharply, but regards her with a gentle voice all the same. ]

[ The instant Andersen speaks up, Briar squeaks in alarm and almost upsets her ink bottle.

... it's a sign of progress that she only almost upsets it.

She manages to compose herself, for the most part, but she's still got a slightly wide-eyed expression that telegraphs her anxiety, the kind of oh am I in trouble look that you can read like... well, a book. It's not even that she has a reason to be wary, it's just that she's so highly strung, so overly aware of herself that her nerves are on a razor's edge at the best of times.

Even after all the hard work she'd done to get here, all the hard work she's still doing as an apprentice, it never feels like enough. It never feels like she really belongs and that it's just a matter of time before someone realizes their mistake and throws her out.

And yet, Andersen is oddly comforting in all his dour gruffness. He doesn't seem at all like the type of man to mince his words to save her feelings, so if he hasn't found reason to tell her she's doing something wrong, then she must be doing at least something a little bit right. ]

Mister Andersen... [ She swallows a bit and tries to pull herself up to her full height and look a bit more confident than she feels. If she's going to be the Imaginier someday, she needs to be able to carry herself with some measure of poise. ] Um, it's a sort of exercise Miss Camellia gave me... for handwriting.

[ She sounds a little embarrassed to admit it but– well, her handwriting's not bad but it's definitely not as perfectly neat and consistent as is expected for an Imaginier. She holds up her notebook a bit, to give Andersen a better look at her work and... again, it's not bad but it's stiff and graceless in a way that makes it clear she's still struggling to ingrain it as habit. ]

[ A book; people were all like books to him. Easily readable, but when you have been damned by them and seen all the worse they have to offer. Yet, in tandem see the brilliance all the same. Such dubious doubled nature beings, whom decorated his heart with such bitterness and yet inspiration, it is a bit of an anthology in itself. He looks at her, with sharp eyes. Minding the manner of her expressions, how she seems unadjusted to being approached by him so suddenly.

Andersen waits patiently, for their nerves to settle back together. It is most obvious that it is not the case, and she still finds herself mildly rattled. It was a pity, but all the more well wrought if she were to grow as a person. Then she need contend and be more comfortable around domineering and seemingly uncaring people who come off like him.

At least with Hans, however... He did care for others far too much. More than he earnestly should, and the domineering presence attributed to him. Came with the care and acknowledgement that Briar very well seemed to understand. His eyes were cold, and his expression seemingly neutral. His shoulders long and although he were a tall man with broad shoulders. His physique, where his legs and arms were rather lanky. Often made many others disinterested in him physically. Hans looked like an old croon, and despite the youthful look along his face seemingly inviting. It had upon it this cruel expression on his face, and it frankly bothered people. Worn outwardly like a wall on his face every day, it made others feel he was an uninviting person - which is why all the more. People seemed to take a harsh disliking of him.

How can one man seem so young and youthful - be average in his attraction. Then, hold a face with such cruel judgement toward others - it made people feel uncomfortable. The strange dichotomy of it - people did not like things that they could not understand or simplify. Hans Andersen was in their eyes, and in their own judgement. Someone far too out of the ordinary. For them to justify right thinking's of him and instead.... Often said, and thought the cruelest things of Andersen for it.

'A fairytale writer, with an evil expression. What an ugly man.' They would say.

And Hans was glad for it, it kept the annoying ones away for the most part. Briar was of the very few who seemed to respect him enough to try to understand who he was as a person. ]

You are trying too hard, to perfect something you cannot. [ Andersen starts, fingers reaching for the sample the other wrote. His words sound cold and cruel, but he does not seem to have stopped his overview of it. Looking them over behind the glasses that hang along his face. Andersen speaks once again. ] Are you trying to copy Miss Camellia's style, directly? The stiffness here is you trying too hard to justify the copying of Miss Camellia's handiwork. While it comes out nearly the same, it is far too stiff and loses out on the natural grace you need to have in writing. After mimicking her work, you need to put it away and try to write without attempting to hit a 'Standard'.

Ah–

[ Briar doesn't even have to admit it. She immediately gets a vaguely guilty look on her face like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar and she drops her gaze a bit, looking embarrassed.

It's no secret, really, that Camellia is and always will be the standard she holds herself to. To a degree, it's unavoidable – Briar admires the Imaginier entirely too much to not let that influence her writing. And of course, if Briar's her apprentice, if she's to succeed Camellia's role someday then it only makes sense that Briar should work hard to be able to imitate her. She should be able to seamlessly pick up where Camellia leaves off.

That's what she thought, anyway. Andersen's words make her heart feel a bit like it's crumpling up, but she holds herself firm and does her best to keep her face straight. She knows it's important to be able to take feedback. She knows that if she's doing something wrong, it's better to be told, so she can correct it. But it still stings just a bit to hear that her efforts aren't going to bear fruit. ]

I–I just thought... [ Her voice comes out too quiet and a little squeaky, so Briar pulls in a breath and tries again. ] I thought... it'd be better if I could write the way Miss Camellia does. Maybe not exactly like she does... but the closer I can get, the better. Is that not it...?

So then you mean to say, imitations are all that someone like you can produce? That utterly, what upholds dignified importance - is what one you can recreate from another? Instead of your own volition. Do you realize how foolish you sound?

[ Andersens eyes are sharp and fierce as they cast down to the youth whom wished for nothing more then the best of the people they would have to serve. Such kindness were well and in good manner, but there was issue in it. Inspiration is core to everyone's soul even his own, but to replicate in it's entirety as if to replace something that was already there. Is impossible, any writer or artist can tell you this plainly. ]

When something is replaced, or inevitably needs to be. What do you think needs to be done? [ A little more softly, firm all the same. ] A broken favorite coffee mug in which the craftsmanship no longer exists. Do you want a random one, the broken one, or one of greater value than the last?

[ Andersen roughly drops the paper work upon the table, most promptly before Briar. So each of the pages splay out upon its wooden surface, spreading about and laying before her. As if to say, all her work were nothing but a mimicry of greatness instead of found greatness in itself. ]

No one person desires to see what they admired or loved replicated again, because it will lose its value. It will be meaningless, [ He's looking at you Walt Disney. ] and although there is love in those who want to replicate what they have seen in others. What you need realize in the end, is that you cannot remain a shadow of this passion. With that said, write a whole passage all over again and this time don't try to replicate Camellia's work so closely.

[ Briar opens her mouth to try and defend herself, but she finds that she can't say anything at all. Her throat feels like it's closing up, so she just shuts her mouth and tries her best not to let the dismay show on her face. Andersen is harsh and his words are sharp, but he never says anything that's not true. He'd no sooner tell her a kind lie than he would a cruel one, not where writing is concerned anyway. So when she sees all of her hard work dropped onto the table like rubbish... it's a little hard to not feel it sting.

She keeps her eyes trained there, on the words she'd spent all that time carefully copying and– she hates it, but she sees it too. She knows he's right.

But then he says; do it again.

Briar blinks. Slowly turns her face up towards Andersen, looking a little like a deer caught in headlights.

You don't tell someone to do their work over if you don't think it can be improved. If it's utterly unsalvageable, you throw it out and tell them not to bother. If she was utterly beyond salvaging, there would be no point in telling her to try again.

But there's a world of difference between you aren't good enough and you can do better.

Briar's hands ball into fists and she nods. Her eyes are a little overbright, but the emotion reflected in them now is fiery determination instead of grim dismay. ]

Yes...! I'll write it all again! [ She hastily gathers her work from the desk, just so she can be sure to have it as a reference – just so she knows what not to do this time. ] And when I'm done, I'll bring it straight here!

1. They knew each other. He knew her and so himself, for in truth he had never known himself. And she knew him and so herself, for although she had always known herself she had never yet been able to recognize it as now
- Italo Calvino, The Baron in the Trees

2. "Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."
- George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

3. I'll never forget the beginning of our falling apart.
- Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me

one

All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.

- Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

two

Memory blurs, that's the point. If memory didn't blur you wouldn't have the fool's courage to do things again, again, again that tear you apart.

- Joyce Carol Oates, We Were the Mulvaneys

or bring your own!

[The well-kept rose garden sprawled over the campus as if to proclaim that despite the strange emptiness it was important somehow. Maybe, once, it had many visitors but not currently. It made it a perfect place to come to get away from certain loud individuals that refused to get along.

Mio preferred it so she could rake over old coals by herself. Memories and feelings needed quiet places to think them over. To turn them over, to look at them at every angle, to consider and then to carefully place them back.

She's walked this path many times before, her footsteps hollowly echoing through the garden. Her composed mask almost breaks, briefly, when she sees a stranger. A younger girl. Someone even younger than--]

Excuse me. [There's a brief flash of shock before she pushes it away. Her smile is small.] Did you get lost? I know the gardens are rather pretty but Saint Ines is a private school, I'm afraid.

[It was probably for the best that Mio was the one who found their visitor first.] If you need help finding someone, I can help.

[Rachel isn't completely sure why she'd wandered into the garden, but for some reason her feet had carried her here, where the smell of fresh earth and beautiful flowers filled her senses. Her mind felt like it was wrapped in a thick fog and she hadn't quite figured who or how to shake it.

In the back of her mind she realizes she should be getting home to her mother and father. They would be upset if she got home late.

Breaking from her small daze, if only a little, her blue eyes fixate on the young woman who'd spoke to her. Lost... yes. She supposes she is a bit lost.]

I'm sorry... [The apology is immediate, a small guilty tone in her voice. She hadn't meant to go somewhere she wasn't supposed to. For some reason she'd just felt really at peace here.] I didn't touch anything. I promise.

[Right. She doesn't know the way. So she can't just leave. So if she's offering to help--]

But I don't... remember the way out...

[The older girl didn't seem angry, at least. Was this particularly odd? Yes. Incredibly but the high school she's wandered into wasn't quite normal. Most of the students wouldn't have even noticed the lost child. For those that would have--well... Niina and Uta were her allies but they weren't exactly the best with people. It probably was a mercy that Mio found her instead of them.

She doesn't step closer as if the movement would scare her.]

You don't need to apologize. Even if you touched something, there's not much you could harm here. I'd be more worried if the roses bit you than you hurting them. [There were so many, after all.]

I can help you find your way. ['Out of the garden'? Probably.] Don't worry, the teachers don't come this way. If you want to stay for a little longer, I'll stay with you.

[Children don't usually stay out this late without a reason, after all. She's not going to guess her reasons.]

a. at the end of the day, no one will dream for you.
you have to do that. --N. Zebian

b. Once upon a time in a land far away
There lived a little boy and he drank all day
Friends called him stupid and his brothers called him gay
Emptied all the bottles 'til the pain went away --MISSIO

c. Hey everybody when my daddy died
He had a sad sad story livin' in his eyes
Hey everybody when you walk the walk
You cannot measure out your life to the tick of a
Clock

I wanna walk to the beat of my own drum --Poe

d. [wild card]

1. Something wicked this way comes
And as I set to face it, I'm unsure should I embrace it, should I run?
What motivates me? Hatred? Is it love?

2. ... I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.

3. I feel like I'm full of all these pulsing pieces barely contained by my skin, like a rip might start in one place and then it would all fly apart.

4. A loveless world is a dead world, and always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, of one's work, and of devotion to duty, and all one craves is a loved face, the warmth and wonder of a loving heart.

{ one | two | three | four | wildcard }

can i quote you on that?

Naoto Hisami | Escape Journey

odette | swan lake | ota

Shen Wei | Guardian | M/M

Zakariya Hadra | Drowned God | OTA

cersei lannister | game of thrones/asoiaf

francel de haillenarte; final fantasy xiv

aether; genshin impact

ruth aldine | x-men

Ted Lasso | Ted Lasso | ota

Genya Safin | Grishaverse | ota

Briar | OC | ota for gen, teens only for ships

hope this is okay

tbh this is The Dream CR so i'm delighted

breathes the pressure of making dreams come true ... cluthcces my heartttttt

no subject

no subject

no subject

Arthur Morgan || Red Dead Redemption 2 || OTA

Zoya Nazyalensky | Grishaverse | I'm still reading KoS no spoilers plz

Rachel Gardner | Angels of Death

two; let me know if this is okay.

this is great!

no subject

Tony Stark | Marvel

Dilandau Albatou | Escaflowne

Alina Starkov | Shadow & Bone | ota

Lan Wangji / The Untamed

william schenk | spiral

Asriel Dreemur ( Undertale )