Sweeter than the First Time [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

Hello, dreamers of Manhattan. The Rift knows that things have been kind of rough, lately. The last dream didn't go as well as it had hoped. Consider this an apology of sorts, and a hearkening back to the good times you've shared.

It's a grand old (and potentially familiar) cabin house that the dreamers will find themselves wandering. The furniture is plentiful and comfortable, the floors are strewn with cushions and blankets, and there are cheerful fires burning in the grates. It seems a little odd that the house still manages to be on the chilly side despite looking so warm, yet it is.

Oh, well. You'll just have to find another dreamer or two and spoon up and fall asleep like little baby cats get cozy. It shouldn't be difficult; most of the dreamers (excepting those with strong telepathic defenses or deeply ingrained cuddle-averse personalities) will find themselves feeling friendlier than usual, along with an almost overwhelming desire to snuggle up to someone. How convenient that the house seems designed for that very purpose!

And if some of the cushions are Hello Kitty themed, well, that's just coincidence.


[OOC: Standard dream party rules apply. Characters will be affected by the dream-whammy to whatever degree makes the most sense for them, and will remember or forget the events of the dream at the player's discretion. Backtag into infinity.]

Comments

[has_a_horn]

"You okay?" He's not exactly sure what one thing makes him ask it, but something feels off with Johnny. Maybe it was his tone of voice. Not as warm as he'd expect. He takes half a step in and lets his hands slide down from Johnny's shoulders to his elbows. Hopefully he hadn't run into someone upsetting. He'd hate to have such a good dream ruined by someone else like that.

"There's some hot cider in the kitchen, we could cuddle up by the fire. Nice and toasty." Whatever's bothering Johnny, hopefully some time together will help lift his spirits.

a;sldkfj

[johnny_truant]

No, no, no, please stop this, stop being so fucking that, perfect and kind, fuck, why is he so kind, what has Johnny ever done to deserve it? Alarm bells are going off in his head, needs to slip away, quietly, casually, but is that even possible.

"I, um," he says. "I'm okay, just. Not feeling it, I guess."

It could mean a lot of things. The dream. The dream's apparent premise of 'everyone pick a snuggle buddy'. Physical contact in general. It doesn't have to mean this, with Gabe.

He feels awful, like he might be sick, as he says, awkward and fumbling, "Do you mind if we... don't, right now?" He evades eye contact like his life depends on it. "I, uh, just. I feel like I need some time to myself. Is that okay?"

[has_a_horn]

It's not too hard to guess that 'it' doesn't have anything to do with the dream. Johnny doesn't want to be around him right now, for whatever reason. He frowns and drops his hands, then stuffs them into his pockets to keep himself from reaching out for Johnny again. He's done something wrong, but he has no idea what. Is this another human thing that he doesn't understand?

He cocks his head to the side a fraction. He's not sure if he should pry more or let this go for now. Maybe Johnny does need some time to himself, but he doesn't like this at all. He huffs out a laugh that sounds brittle. "You need some space? Okay."

[johnny_truant]

Johnny can't look at him, feeling almost physically cowed by the humorless laugh. There it is: he's fucked everything up. Everything.

He inches away, slowly, like he's afraid to make sudden movements.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles uselessly. "I'll, um." What? He's not ever going to want to talk about this, but they're going to have to now. Maybe when he wakes up, maybe things will have cleared, he'll have made sense of it. Maybe then.

"I'm sorry," he says again. He reaches out to touch, just a light, momentary pressure on Gabe's arm - pathetic, really, not enough of an acknowledgment, not anything at all - and he turns on his heel and slips back out of the room, elsewhere, anywhere else, his head pounding now with the resonating pulse of fuck fuck fuuuuck.