𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗

[texas]

WHO: Joel Miller, Gene Hicks, Jai Kinvaio + whoever else ambles by
WHERE: dreams! dreams dreams dreams
WHEN: dreams
WHAT: also dreams
NOTES OR WARNINGS: cws: violence, gore, potentially mentions of child abuse.

notes: There are some open starters and a lot of closed ones, hit me up here or @vitarays on plurk if you'd like a character-specific starter! Or drop me a dream of your own for me to throw someone at! Just specify who you'd like.

starters in the comments;

Comments

joel ↪ god's gonna cut you down (ota)

[texas]

（ you're in a run-down building, some sort of old mechanic shop with anything useful long since stripped. the smell of mold and dust and the decay of bodies is thick and clotted on your tongue. you're beside a worn-down man in his fifties, graying beard, plaid shirt that looks like it's seen better days. he's haggard in the way you can only come by honestly — survival in impossible times. he gestures for you to be silent, and in the distance you hear the cacophonous sounds of some awful, encroaching creature.

the man hands you a revolver. it's light — if you're familiar with guns you'll recognize that it's not fully loaded. ）

Clickers.

（ the man says that very, very softly, barely audible over the ambient creaks of the building, the sounds emanating from beyond the walls to indicate the monsters. the man gestures — not quite military, but obviously evolved from some species of that same communication — for you to flank the creature on the right side. all he's got to his name, clutched in his hands is a bat studded with broken blades and barbed wire, he gave you the only gun. if you move to obey him, he'll head left. if you'd rather talk, well — he won't like it, but dream logic ain't always sound, now is it? ）

[reneger]

( most people don't look at jason and think he knows how to follow orders; because he sure as hell doesn't like to. as a general rule. but placed in a strange as shit place he doesn't remember being in three seconds before with a guy whose face he recognizes enough to realize what this is works as enough of an incentive that jason does take the revolver when it's offered. rolls the cylinder to check how many rounds it has left before clicking it back into place and.

speaks soft, quickly. because he doesn't know what the hell he's dealing with here and clickers isn't exactly telling. )

Where am I aiming?

( guy wants to take the bat, he can have it. jason isn't arguing. )

[texas]

（ rather than respond to that part verbally, joel gestures to the back of his neck. spinal column. ain't easy to get at when they're coming at you, but that's why he's playing decoy. verbally, however: ）

Do not let it grab you.

（ it's a warning. terse and fraught, pitched low. christ, he'd rather fight a bloater. at least they're big and slow, even if you're just as dead if they catch you.

he eases himself up out of a crouch. standing. ready to move. he nods to jason once. ）

You ready?

[sparklequeen]

[ Glimmer isn't quite sure what's happening, only that she is in a place that smells like some of the ruins she's explored. Except worse. The stench of mold feels almost overpowering. All at once, she feels the weight of an unfamiliar weapon pressed in her hands and she awkwardly wraps her fingers around the grip of the gun. There's an anxious thrill through the girl--she's never fired one of these before, though somehow she has the idea of how it works. ]

Clickers?

[ She's good at picking up the cue and her voice is already a faint whisper, barely reaching Joel's own volume. Glimmer's eyes follow the sharp gesture and she swallows--can she really do this? The young woman nods, in spite of her confusion and begins to move around towards the right side of the creature, the gun held out awkwardly, though pointed towards the clicking, twitching creature all the same. There's fear swelling in her chest, threatening to arch towards panic--but she tamps down on it. She's the goddamn Queen of Bright Moon. She can do this. As she shifts her weight, one of the floorboards lets out a groaning creak and she freezes with eyes wide. Maybe it wasn't loud enough for the thing to notice? ]

[mahem]

[ this... is weird.

in the middle of everything going on, everything that's dusty and dank and rotting and cast in shadow, there's just harley herself, pale and stark and bright and definitely out-of-place. and she doesn't even remember a time before she was here, which is even weirder, but she takes the gun when it's handed to her, turns it over in her grip with a familiarity that points to being comfortable with firearms, and then squints over at him in confusion. ]

Click-huh?

[ and then her gaze trails down to where he's got a bat gripped in his hands, and her eyes light up, following the weapon even as he gestures in front of it. ]

Okay, but maybe you could give me the bat and then you could have the gun, 'cause, well, my aim is a little better when I'm up in close and if we're goin' after these things — [ she's definitely not speaking quietly enough right now, so you might want to shush her, joel. ]

[texas]

（ she's so goddamned gaudy that it actually makes him grimace, and as the words pour out of her mouth and continue escalating in pitch and tone he actually reaches out and slaps a hand over her mouth, pushing her back against the nearest retaining wall so that she's well and truly pinned there. there's a brutal sort of efficiency in how he moves — a man well-used to violence and all it entails. ）

Quiet.

（ he snarls in a low voice. but he didn't act quickly enough. the clicker swings around to face them and emits a high-pitched predatory shriek as it begins to amble towards them. joel shoves the girl, hard, to emphasize his point, and backs off in a crouch that strains the thighs. if she insists on being loud, at least he could always use her to bait it.

his one show of solidarity is to throw her the spiked bat. fine, he'll keep the gun. ）

joel ↪ oh i'm a lucky man (ota)

[texas]

（ there's a man sitting on a dock overlooking a lake. he's got his pants rolled up to the knee, feet dangling in the water. he's got a guitar strapped crossbody, and he's playing a quiet song, singing quietly in the breathtaking still of the dawn.

when he becomes aware he's got company, the song dies off and he sets the guitar aside. ）

Here for the view?

（ it's gorgeous, ain't it? the water, so still and clear you can see all the way to the bottom of the lake. the distant trees, the reeds. there's a curious deer on the far side of the bank. as the sun comes up, a light fog curls up off the lake to evaporate in the light. ）

[requiemshark]

Guess so.

[ He doesn't remember walking here. Doesn't remember if this was a choice or just something that's happened. Ephemera tips his head back, breathing in fresh, unfiltered air. He's dressed in his regular clothes, no armor to be seen.

After a moment, he pushes his hood off. ]

It's beautiful.

[texas]

Pull up a seat. Plenty of room to go around.

（ joel gestures to an open spot on the dock, far enough away from him that it won't crowd either of them. ）

joel ↪ if i ever were to lose you (closed to ellie)

[texas]

（ you're in a nice, suburban house. the sun's shining through the windows, you can hear birds outside. you're seated at the counter, and there's a small towheaded girl bustling about in the kitchen. she's wearing pajamas, pink tartan, and a faded gray band shirt. the kitchen smells like bacon, and it's cracking away in the pan. the girl is bustling cheerfully, whistling (badly) as she flips a pancake on the stove.

badly. ）

Ah, crap!

（ that pancake is DOA, by the way it's a slumped mess on the griddle. the girl groans, and pulls the griddle off the burner so she can scrape it into the garbage. but the garbage is under the sink and she only has two hands, so she turns to look at you beseechingly. ）

Ellie, quick — Dad's going to be up any minute, can you give me a hand with this?

（ there's already a stack of pancakes made with considerably greater success, but you never know how many you'll need!! ）

[notathreat]

[It feels almost like coming awake after a long, satisfying nap. Ellie blinks to clear the cobwebs, looks up, not recognizing at first that it's a dream. The counter is warm, the whistling and clattering sounds like it should be familiar. All those little home sounds.

The southern twang of the girl's voice, like Tommy and Joel's, draws something in her tight. She straightens, eyes wide. The girl is little- so young, with fragile hands and mussed-up blonde hair and big, big eyes.

She's seen that face before, plenty of times. And here and now, animated and smiling, she can see the echoes of Joel in her. It leaves Ellie breathless, so much so that she can barely get the word out.]

Sure.

[Ellie gets up from the counter, realizing that she's dressed the way she remembers just before she woke up in New Amsterdam. Missing fingers, plaid shirt, comfortable jeans and boots. She nips in and ducks down, pulling open the cabinet under the sink to give Sarah room to dump the ruined pancake.]

What's-

[She pauses, looking back through the rest of the house. It's unfamiliar, but it smells familiar, past the pancakes. Like well-creased leather and something of Joel.]

What's the occasion?

[texas]

Did you forget? Seriously? Ugh, you're the worst sister-slash-daughter.

（ sarah scrapes the pancake into the trash and then whirls the pan with a flourish so she can put it back on the stovetop. this next one is getting chocolate chips, thanks. ）

His birthday? Duh? I mean, it was yesterday... but he had to leave early for work, so it doesn't count.

gene ↪ i will shatter death's crown (ota)

[preseance]

（ you're sitting out on a fire escape with two boys — one you may recognize as gene hicks, albeit without the silver at his temples or the lines on his face that denote a man aged before his time. he looks boyish and young, and he's laughing uproariously at something his companion's just said.

said companion is a black boy, perhaps a little older, with a smile that could charm the devil himself. there's a chessboard set out between them, and gene is clearly getting his ass well an' truly kicked. ）

Christ.

（ he tips his king over in surrender. ）

I could play a thousand games and never win a'one'a them.

（ reggie just grins, and starts setting up the board again. ）

Ah, Hell, give it ten years, Genie. Then maybe you'll have a fighting chance.

（ his voice is rich and warm, playfully teasing, alight with an accent that takes its cues from trinidad, new york and a very faint british twang that undercuts it. clearly, he's lived his fair share of places. gene just rolls his eyes dramatically an' turns to whoever else happens to be in the dream. ）

Fine, you play him, then. See how you like it.

[hardwearing]

[ Wash does recognize Gene, but not his friend... who calls him Genie and that's the cutest nickname he's heard in a long time. Their dynamic feels warm and playful, Gene not actually upset about losing and the stranger not bragging about his win. Wash likes him already.

As the board is set up again Gene turns to him, though, and Wash is caught off guard. He suddenly feels like a voyeur spying on his friend's life, and didn't expect to be seen.

His smile fades into uncertainty as he answers. ]

I don't know how to play.

[preseance]

（ reggie shakes his head with a grin as he starts to rearrange the board with a graceful sort of deftness. he carries himself with easy, enviable grace and surety of a man much older. ）

You can't be any worse-off than this yahoo here.

（ it's said with affection, and gene gives him a playful little push to the shoulder that he weathers with the tolerance of a fond older sibling. gene, as if remembering his southron manners, opts to introduce them. ）

Ah, Reg, this is David. David, Reggie Holiday. Just about the worst cat you ever could meet, so consider yourself fair warned.

（ but there's no heat to it, same as when reggie spoke. it's obviously just their dynamic with one-another: warm, fond, replete with gentle ribbing that don't ever toe the line of serious. reggie holds his hand out for a shake. ）

Any pal of Genie's, I suppose.

gene ↪ closest to heaven that i'll ever be (ota)

[preseance]

（ you come across gene sittin' on a porch swing with a baby cow across his lap, suckling at a bottle. he's petting it gently with his other hand, murmuring soft, quiet little things to it. poor thing barely looks but a few days old, an' don't seem to have much control or command over its movement just yet. one little swing of its head butts up against gene's chest and he oofs faintly with the impact.

if you know him in new amsterdam, he looks much the same. tired, a little worn, gray at his temples. sun-darkened skin that's peeling a little on the bridge of his nose. he's wearing a button-down that's rolled to the elbows, an' he doesn't seem to be payin' the heat much mind.

when he sees you, he glances up an' lifts the little cow to heft it an' himself closer to one edge of the swing. ）

Another one'a them dreams, I reckon? C'mere — ever seen a baby cow?

[scrlies]

( gene is a vaguely familiar face, from when they'd met at the site of the shuttle drop off. familiar enough that adam doesn't get up in arms about this place throwing him into someone else's dreams (at least it's not his own) and instead takes a few steps forwards. )

Seen a few, actually.

( most the ones at the barns were eternally sleeping; unmoving, but peacefully at rest. not animated like gene's calf. gene scoots over though, makes room, and adam takes the invitation for what it is. moves to settle down beside him. )

This one have a name?

[sparklequeen]

[ This is a better dream than the ones Glimmer has been dealing with lately. It's downright pleasant, really. Glimmer takes a few steps up the porch steps, peering wide-eyed at the little calf. There's an appreciative softness in her voice, as if her voice being too loud might scare the thing away or dissipate the dream. ]

No. Only ever the grown-up ones...

[ She takes a few more cautious steps, until she could reach out and touch the the thing. ]

It's adorable.

[halfbloodhatchling]

[ Kai blinks at finding himself in this kind of setting, something that he wouldn't have thought to come up with. He's dealt with a number of fearsome monsters, but a farm boy he decidedly is not.

He takes a step closer, tentatively, cautious. ]

Do they bite?

[ In his experience, most things bite. ]

gene ↪ i don't want to be a proud man, i just want to be a man (ota)

[preseance]

（ you're in a vast labyrinth of books. everything smells musty, like a secondhand bookstore. there's a sense of being underground — stone architecture, the occasional stalactite. it's a beautiful, impossible place.

if you approach the shelves and open the books, the words will be all in a jumble. anyone familiar might recognize the text looks how a dyslexic might interpret written words. dream logic, an' all that follows it.

there's a warm glow of blue light, an' if you follow it, you'll find yourself at the heart of the library. it's a wide-open space, generous and expansive an' warm, an' overhead there's an orb that's casting the glow. there's something off about it — though it ain't easy to say why. it just feels... wrong.

gene's standin' there with his hands clasped behind his back, lookin' up at it. then he turns to you — ）

Thought we could try some'a that trainin' folks are on about. This is as good a place as any.

jai ↪ dustin' off my shoulders to take a stand (ota)

[kestrels]

（ there are few things in ksagae as decadent as space, and shorehold has it in spades. vast swaths of it, empty wings and open rooms, floor-to-wall plasteel windows to let in the light, just about everything-proof. shorehold is as much haven as home, and it's meant to be impenetrable in times of crisis. there's a reason it's functioned, over the centuries, as an aid station, as a plague hospital, as a command center, and most recently as the kestrel's roost.

who knows how long you've wandered these halls, peering at the curiosities, the casual, elegant displays of wealth — now, you're in the gymnasium, and you see the boy doing drills bare-handed with a wooden dummy. his knuckles are bruised, and by the fact that the dummy looks to be stained with old blood it's probably not the first first or last time he's worked until injury. he rolls his shoulder, bounces lightly on his feet. it isn't until he notices he's got company that he reaches out to stop the dummy's movement. he turns to face you — when you first see his expression, you may notice it's grim and set, but it melts away to something jaunty and carefree with practiced ease. ）

Hey. Sorry, Avo Galeya's not in right now, anything I can help with?

jai ↪ i will no longer feed the machine (ota)

[kestrels]

（ this dream puts you center-stage. hope you like being a damsel in distress, because that's what you're cast as — you're bound and tied and huddled up along a wall, maybe a little worse for wear in all the chaos. for a while, it seems like that's it — that's the entire dreamscape, but eventually a henchman comes in, and trailing behind him is a slim figure of indeterminate gender. they're wearing high-tech armor in a muted, dried-blood red and they've got a hood drawn up, though not enough to obscure the fact that their face is obscured by a mask. ）

See? （ the henchman says gruffly, grunting and gesturing to where you sit. ） Told you they weren't hurt.

（ the armored figure comes over to you, kneels down. over their shoulder, in a modulated voice that sounds neither male nor female: ） I'll be the judge of that, thanks. （ they turn their attention back around and, more quietly: ） Hey, you all right? I'm here to get you out.

[schwayed]

[ terry learned to wiggle out of handcuffs when he was like twelve or thirteen and running with gangs, and since becoming batman, he's learned how to get out of pretty much anything. of course, he's not batman here-- he's just terry. but terry is a scrappy college freshman with a punk past, so by the time the person in the mask is approaching, he's ready to jump up and fight or flee if he needs to.

the stranger kneels, and terry's brows lift at the concern--superhero or just villain with a conscience?--wrists parting so the rope slithers down away from them, falling away. ]

Am I about to be sold on the black market for my organs? Because if so, I'm super not alright, pretty sure I have crazy cholesterol and like.. I smoke like a chimney.

jai ↪ my generation's had enough and you should be afraid (closed to aidan)

[kestrels]

（ you're in the lobby of a government building. department of family services, says a plaque on the wall, and you can hear voices raised beyond the wall. one of them sounds familiar — jai, and his tone is rising with every word he says. ）

— done everything you fucking asked!

（ a woman's voice, explaining patiently outbursts like these are one of the reasons these meetings are necessary, jai. do you understand?

the dream shifts abruptly, away from that memory — but there's an acute sense of shame that clouds the atmosphere. of failure, and anger, and the absolute despair that comes from having worked so fucking hard at something only to come up short at the end of it all.

you're on a rooftop in the rain. maybe you recognize havoc, maybe you don't, but he's speaking with the kestrel. you can't hear them over the overhead claps of thunder, but one bright flash of lightning illuminates the moment when havoc lifts up a hand and drives something — a blade? a spear? you're too far away to tell — into the kestrel's chest.

another jerk. another change of scenery. you're out in the wilderness now, trees and birdsong all around. jai's sitting on a rock in a meditative pose. everything here feels too sharp, too real. it's a little like taking that first hit of bliss, when the world seems to quicken.

at any case, he seems aware you're here. ）

Will you just fucking get over here? You weren't supposed to see any of that.

[wrend]

( he doesn't know how he got here. what the hell he's doing but the first building is familiar enough that aidan--stops breathing for a moment. jai yells, and aidan's turning in towards the sound of the voice. familiar. before he gets there it's gone, they're gone, it's raining and kestrel's getting fucking stabbed and aidan's reaching out uselessly because they're gone again.

somewhere else entirely. another breath, and aidan raises a hand up to shove his hand against his nose. once, before he just starts swiping it haphazardly. nerves. )

Am I high? I swear I didn't take anything.

( it's a tiny bit of a lie, but. )