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

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.

[kestrels]

（ most smokers smell like it. it's in the folds of their clothes, their breath. yellow fingertips from the nicotine. weird thing to lie about, but the kestrel's not keeping score — you quip about whatever makes a fucked up situation sane. they just shrug and reach out to grip both the boy's wrists and shake their head, barely perceptible. a little message flashes across their mask — it's living nanotech, easy to program on the fly. wait. if he was panicked or freaking out, it'd be harder, but the kestrel is willing to bet that anyone that can shimmy out of ropes and crack jokes about organ harvesting is probably made of sterner stuff. ）

What about the others?

（ they stand as they say it, turning back to face the henchman, who shrugs. ）

What about 'em? They're long gone.

（ not a good sign. it means there's a transport truck somewhere they'll have to track. they send a quick message to the command center, and then steps forward. ）

I'm pretty sure the deal was for everyone. Where's Havoc? I'll deal with him personally.

（ it'd be almost too perfectly on-cue if not for the lazy logic of dreams, but havoc steps through a side door. he's a big man, powerfully built. a sense of ... wariness, perhaps, more than fear courses through the dream like the rising crescendo of a song played during a tense moment in film. 'Kestrel!' he says in a loud, booming voice. there's a cruel sort of playfulness in the way he says it. 'You really know how to put a damper on a man making a living, don't you?' havoc strides towards them both, claps his hands to the kestrel's shoulders and then turns his attention to terry. ）

Besides, （ he says with a broad grin. ） Kinda thought I'd keep this one.