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

[texas]

And how is that my fault, exactly?

（ sarah sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry that culminates in a delighted little giggle, entertained by ellie's flail. just then, she hears the thump of joel's feet on the stairs and she immediately shushes ellie loudly, and dives back to the pancake to flip it before he makes it to the bottom step. joel's voice — younger, lighter, and almost decidedly more texan sounds from near the front door, ）

Honey, are you burnin' something? Swear I can smell it all the way upstairs.

（ sarah squeaks — checks the pancake, checks the sausages in the oven and then, drily: ）

Oh, haha. Nothing's burnt, Dad. And if it is, blame Ellie.

[notathreat]

Fuckin' rude-

[Ellie tosses her chip into her mouth to crunch through with a huge grin back at her, falling to silence, heart pounding as Joel's footfalls echo down the stairs. They're Joel's, she'd know his steps anywhere, but they're lighter, like his voice. More energy and fewer aches and pains.]

Bullshit. She's the culprit.

[It comes tumbling out of her mouth, and she doesn't think about altering her language in front of Sarah. She's never curbed it in front of Joel.

Ellie leans against the counter, trying to quiet the racing of her heart, the aching hurt of seeing him like this, wondering if he'll know it's her, and not some figment of his dreams.

She knows what morning this would've been, and fuck, it hurts. If it hurts this bad for her, then it's worse for him. How many times has he been through this? Talking in his sleep, waking up with the memories so close?

Ellie knows, now. Knows what it is to love a child.]

[texas]

（ sarah rummages around in one of the cupboards for a moment and produces a decorated jar. it looks like someone's macaroni art project, glitter and glue and the words SWEAR JAR emblazoned on the side. spelled incorrectly once, and corrected with the steadier hand of someone older than the five or six year old she'd been when she first made it.

it's got about six bucks in it. she holds it out at ellie and shakes it so the coins clank. ）

Come on, pay up. No swearing in the kitchen, that's the rule.

（ joel sighs, put upon, and — ）

Sarah, Ellie's an adult now. If she wants to swear, that's up to her.

（ but his focus on her — sharpens, almost, as it passes over her. as if he's identified a flaw in the tapestry of the dream, but isn't sure enough yet of himself to pull it and unravel the set piece in his lap. instead, he takes a seat at the countertop. sarah chatters on — ）

So... what I'm hearing is, I don't have to worry about rules when I'm an adult? No seatbelts, cake for dinner every night, that kind of thing?

[notathreat]

What, just the kitchen?

[Ellie almost starts to reach into her pocket (though she'd be surprised if she had anything other than a knife in there, but who knows?) when Joel thankfully lets her off the hook. It's a little bittersweet, considering he never really tried to curb her mouth when she wasn't much older than this.

She can feel his gaze on her, and her skin prickles, but she can't meet it. Not yet, not like this. Instead she just focuses on Sarah.]

No way, seatbelts aren't negotiable. I've been through way too many car accidents to write that one off.

[Cake, though. There's a thought.]

[texas]

Rest of the house got harder to enforce.

（ joel's tone is dry, as he reaches for a coffee cup that sarah had filled and set out on the counter. it ain't quite as hot as he'd like, but she remembered the sugar to milk ratio of his preference and he lifts it in compliment to the chef. sarah beams at him, and then she looks at ellie almost suspiciously — ）

Wait, when have you been in a car accident? If you wrecked that truck Dad got you for your sweet sixteen I am never letting you hear the end of it.

（ joel, with his free hand, gives her a 'slow down' gesture. ）

Hang on, now, I didn't get her a truck. We went to a museum, honey, don't you remember?

[notathreat]

[Ellie snorts an almost-laugh, leaning against the fridge and crossing her arms over her chest -- but her expression flickers when Sarah puts her on the spot, the way it did when she called her her sister.

She smooths it blank, though, as Joel challenges it himself.

Ellie wonders if this is... what he'd wished for, on some level. If she'd really grown up as his kid, would it have been like this?

But even Joel knows this isn't right. This isn't what happened. And Ellie knows it too.

I know you wish things were different.]

Yeah. That was when we went to the museum. We saw all those dinosaurs... [She trails off, looking up, looking at his face.] And Joel got me a tape of the moon landing.

[I wish things were different. But they ain't.]

[texas]

（ the room seems to flex and shiver like a breathing thing. the wallpaper peels, one of the windows cracks, goes murky with decades of dirt. sarah looks back and forth between them with a pout, and then turns back to her pancakes. she flips it, and then puts it on a plate and holds it out for ellie. ）

Well, I'm not going to say I'm mad you didn't take me... but I'm totally mad you didn't take me.

（ joel lifts his coffee with a shake of his head. ）

You weren't there, honey.

（ he says it tiredly, quiet, and the room... ages again. there's the smell of moss and mold in the air, everything faded where the sun comes into the house in the late summer and bleaches it all. it's starting to look like any one of a thousand houses they've been in together, ransacked and ruined after the infection, little left of what once made it a home. joel puts a hand on ellie's shoulder, fingers squeezing faintly. ）

I think it's time to go.

[notathreat]

[A shiver crawls down Ellie's spine. She's seen this before, but never so plainly, and usually it's her imagination taking it in the other direction.

Seeing it laid out, going from what it was before -- something filled with love and light and warmth and laughter to something broken and anonymous just... leaves her feeling profoundly empty. It brings a lump to her throat, a sheen to her eyes.

This was Joel's, once. This was the world, once.

Her eyes drift shut as Joel's hand rests on her shoulder, and she nods.]

... yeah. It's time.