(no subject)

[riseup]

WHAT: HELLA DREAMS BRO
WHO: Nathan Young, John Egbert, Jesse Pinkman
WHEN: whenever you find yourself asleep between 2/27 and 3/3!
NOTE: there are two options for each character, see comments in this post. reply to whatever ones you want! (you can do prose or brackets or regular spam, whichever you like, i like it too.) more options can be concocted if you'd like to do something else! I'M EASY

Comments

OPTION I

[reanimated]

Ta-da! You are dead.

You now exist in the limbo between life and death that Nathan hangs out in every so often.

The limbo is whatever your personal beliefs dictate. For Nathan, it's emptiness. But if you're there and you've got some thoughts or theories about the afterlife, it might start taking on a different shape.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he sighs, throwing his hands up. "C'mon, I wasn't ready to reveal the secret mysteries of the universe yet!"

OPTION II

[reanimated]

Welcome to the Wertham Community Centre! It's very large, very grey, and very empty. Which is fortunate, because between you and Nathan is a dead body. There's blood all over the body, blood all over the ground, blood all over the orange jumpsuit you now happen to be wearing.

"Shit," he hisses, both hands fisted in his hair. "Shit! No no no, not again— what the fuck did you do?"

option one.

[riseup]

Congratulations, you have been bestowed with the powers of flight! You are high above New Moore, practically up in the clouds. Who knows? Maybe the barrier doesn't exist in this dream. Maybe you could fly right out of here, all around the world, even back to your own world if you want. The possibilities are limitless when you're with the heir of breath.

John zooms in front of you and stops short, grinning like a maniac. "You're getting the hang of it," he enthuses — and then shoots a gust of air in your face because he is also a tremendous asshole.

option two.

[riseup]

As a teenage boy with hormones aplenty and an approximate metric fuckton of confusion about where he stands in relation to "pants stuff" (that's the scientific term, thank you very much) it's only natural to have weird dreams. It's not like they mean anything — what is this, Rose's Freudian Funfest? No, okay, dreams just happen. They are the random rumblings of overloaded subconsciouses and most of the time they don't make any sense at all.

All that said, John is now about to kiss you.

He is also maybe wearing a ridiculous magician outfit, you might be similarly dressed as his sexy sidekick, and if you're aware of your immediate surroundings it's possible that you're backstage at an ornate old-timey theatre. But mostly the kissing thing, that's about to happen. Do you stop it or let it go? And how long is it going to take for him to look you in the eye again after everyone is awake and all is said and done?

Option 1

[ricinbeans]

You find yourself laid out on a cold concrete floor. It's dark and dismal and could probably be called a bunker, except bunkers are usually equipped at least with some food rations. This place is empty but for your fellow dreamer, a ratty blanket, a small crate, an empty cup of Americone Dream and what appears to be a discarded photograph. Hope you don't mind being underground, because the only opening is far above you. It would be a nice view of the stars if those thick prison bars weren't in the way. Is that a lock on top? That is a lock on top. You're trapped.

What it is is a glorified prison pit. Also, Jesse Pinkman's former home. Good times.

Fortunately, Jesse does not currently look like he got his face fed through a wood chipper (unless that's what you're into). He's standing with his back to you, staring up through the bars at the night sky, vaguely trying to measure the distance from where he stands to the top of the cage with his hands. Help a brother break out of Nazi hell — or don't, the choice is yours and yours alone!

Option 2

[ricinbeans]

An addict is an addict is an addict is an addict.

You've managed to make your way out of a party that's quickly gotten out of control. It's a pretty big house, and the upstairs is mostly safe from debauchery. Below you there's too many bodies for one room, it's smoky and hazy, bass booms and people shout to each other over terrible dubstep and you're pretty sure you saw two dudes bust out lightsabers to battle each other — but up here, shut into a nondescript bedroom, you can at least hear yourself think and get your bearings.

Except Jesse stumbles in, looking behind him and laughing and half-shouting something about ordering more pizza to his friends below.

"Whoa, shit— hey, sorry, I didn't mean to like, interrupt or whatever." He's pleasantly stoned and smiles easily, because being clean for over a year doesn't mean he misses the feeling any less. Still, ever the gracious host, he asks: "Yo, you okay? You need anything?"

Obviously people don't hide from awesome parties for no good reason. Come on, spill the beans, he looks so earnest to help you.