applesaucedream | I'll See You in My Dreams [WIDE-OPEN PARTY THREAD]

Entry tags:

I'll See You in My Dreams [WIDE-OPEN PARTY THREAD]

Sometimes the rift only gives the denizens of Manhattan strange dreams. Sometimes, two people will find themselves together in the Dreaming. And other times? Other times, the Dreaming takes hold of dozens of people at once, throwing them all together into one shared mental space while they sleep.

Tonight is one of those nights -- what's more, the rift has outdone itself this time, telepathic tendrils reaching out through the rift into other universes to pull in even those who haven't been physically transported to this world...yet. You might meet a stranger from another world, or you might run into your next-door neighbor. You might notice right away that this isn't the waking world and that you are not alone, or you may drift through blissfully unaware that anything is out of the ordinary. You might not even remember this in the morning at all.

And that's probably going to be fortunate for at least a few people, because what you will notice is the overwhelming desire to get cozy with someone. It's chilly in this big house where you've found yourself, but luckily for you, there are beds, beanbags, and blankets galore, all of them just perfect for getting cuddly with your new friends. Consider yourself lucky that dream-world cameras can't upload photos to the real-world internet.

[It's a Dreaming party, and everyone is welcome! Tag a friend, tag a stranger, whatever! Everyone who's been pulled in will be feeling unusually friendly and cuddly, so get a-snuggling. Some characters (particularly those with strong telepathic defenses) may not be as strongly affected as others; the extent of the Dreaming's effect on each character is up to the mun's discretion.

Also, when we say everyone, we mean everyone. Non-members are welcome to tag into this post, so feel free to voice-test new characters here, and to invite friends who aren't in the game to come do some meeting and greeting. If you've come upon this post and aren't a member of this game, you are welcome to tag into this post.

For those who are familiar with the brbG parties, this is basically like that. Post a tag with your character's arrival and await replies. Time is bendy in here, so each character can have multiple replies/threads. Have fun!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Aha!" repeats Handrew as they skid to a stop. He lifts his head, propping himself up to see who he's caught, and --

"...Ooh." He squints at the other man. Could it be? Perhaps! "Peter, I presume," he says, extricating an arm and sticking his hand out to shake.

"...I was gonna ask you the same thing," the Doctor answers, propping himself up a bit. Also, from what he gathers, Peter wouldn't wear this -- well, what either of them are wearing, really. Which means... actually, he has no idea what that means, besides that this is apparently not Peter. Honestly it appears to be himself. It's not even too unlikely he'd tackle someone from a pillow fort, given then influences of this place.

"...Ah." Andrew gives the Doctor a disappointed look, then pulls back into a crouch to survey him. Pinstripes -- oh, bugger, the pinstripes. "Not Peter," he says decisively, scooting away and climbing to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he asks sharply.

"What do you mean what am I doing here, what are you doing here?" he answers from still on the floor, looking up at Andrew with much more confusion than he seems to show. "No, hold on, I mean - who are you?"

Because he doesn't think it's a future version of himself. But he apparently recognised the Doctor.

Andrew furrows his brow at the Doctor. "You don't know?" he asks incredulously. Then, less incredulously, "You don't know, do you?"

Well, that complicates matters. Or maybe it doesn't -- maybe he can just use this as an opportunity to turn tail and not even have this conversation. He hasn't seen or spoken to his progenitor since his progenation, and he hasn't been particularly keen to change that.

"No," he answers, pushing himself to his feet and adjusting his suit jacket. "I don't know. So would you care to explain, since apparently you do?" He puts his hands in his pockets and looks at Andrew expectantly. And if he decides to make a run for it, Ten will chase him, so no luck there.

Andrew considers. "...No," he answers after a moment. "No, I don't think I would."

With one quick motion, he stoops, grabs a pillow and throws it at the Doctor's face. Then he takes the moment of understandable distraction that should generate to run back the way he came and duck into his awesome fort, immediately grabbing up the cushions from the floor to block up the doorway.

Shouldn't have put his hands in his pockets, makes it much more difficult to defend himself against impending pillows quickly enough. After the pillow, he just has time to see Andrew disappearing inside the pillow fort.

"HEY!" he saves and gives chase, but unfortunately he runs straight into the pillow door that's now in place (probably held there by Andrew at the moment), and bounces back, landing once again on his backside. He's been doing that a lot today.

"Hey!" he repeats, standing up and knocking hard on the door. It doesn't actually give my off much noise, though. "Get back out here!"

Andrew is indeed holding up the door from the inside. He was quick enough to wedge a couple big pillows in behind the blanket flap, but now he has to keep pressure on them from his side to keep the Doctor from knocking them in.

"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!" he calls back, enjoying himself a little too much. Serve the Doctor right, after what he did. On a very slightly more serious (and perhaps 60% true) note, he follows it up with, "It's for your own good!"

But not THIS Doctor! He's done no wrong towards Handy, thanks very much. Except getting him cut off in the first place, maybe? And perhaps letting him be stolen by the Master. But that's totally not his fault.

"It's not for you to decide what's good for me," he anwers sternly, and tries pushing against the pillows again. When that doesn't work, he walks around the edge of the fort, finding a place that looks shaky and thin, and starts picking apart the fort, pillow by pillow.

"You don't even know who I am!" protests Andrew. "Of course I know better than you."

He braces against the pillows when he sees them threaten to bulge inward again, mindful that he doesn't push too hard or keep pushing after the Doctor stops -- it'd be counterproductive to knock the pillows out from the inside, after all. He rests when the Doctor stops, waiting for the next attack. "Would you go away if I said I was Peter?" he asks curiously, still talking through the door, assuming the Doctor's on the other side. He doesn't realize what's happening until one of the walls starts shaking and light peeks through.

"Oi! No!" he squawks, diving over to shore up the hole with a wadded-up blanket.

The Doctor doesn't answer so as not to give away his plan and position prematurely - to answer the question, no he wouldn't - but unfortunately Andrew discovers before he's quite gotten through. Before Andrew has time to properly rebuild the weak point however, the Doctor simply launches himself at the wall, using his momentum and bodyweight to force his way through.

Ten's lucky he didn't try that on the wall that's being held up by a table. Andrew does not consider this particularly fortunate, though. He lets out an indignant squeak from where he's been halfway buried under the puffy remains of the wall and part of the ceiling, and flails awkwardly, trying to get up and make a break for it but finding himself entangled in a heavy blanket.

Haha! The wall is breached! The Doctor scrambles, thankfully on top of all the squishy debris, and crawls on top of Andrew, pinning him to the floor. "Aha!" he echoes Andrew from earlier. Victory!

"Now, can I get some answers, or am I going to have to torture it out of you with a soft cushion?" he asks, throwing in a Monty Python reference for good measure.

"Just don't make me sit in the comfy chair!" laughs Andrew breathlessly. But no, this isn't a game! He's not enjoying this! Not in the slightest.

The sight of his ruined fort helps to put a stop to his amusement, and he's able to give the Doctor a very stern, perhaps even sulky look. "You've ruined it," he points out, gesturing upward with his chin. "This is why I can't have nice things, because you ruin them."

He says it almost as a joke, but...his tone isn't as joking as it ought to be.

The Doctor doesn't think you're taking this seriously, Andrew. Which, okay, it's not a very serious setting, that's true, and the Doctor isn't exactly helping that much either.

"You brought it upon yourself," he points out. That's what you get for running away and hiding in a pillow fort and expecting the Doctor to respect the sanctity of such buildings. "...Well then?" he prompts. He hasn't let go of him yet, still sitting on top of him, not trusting he won't make another break for it.

Andrew is the very picture of seriousness, surely. Just because he's pinned under the Doctor and a pile of fluff and his hair looks like he stuck a fork in an electrical socket doesn't mean this whole situation is not serious business.

He furrows his brow at the other Doctor. "You seriously don't know? The, ah -- the hand, remember the hand?" He doesn't want to say it. It'd be bad enough having to actually say it to the Doctor so he'll clue in and remember, but he really doesn't want to have to explain it all. Not to him.

"Yeah, it's in the TARDIS," he answers, frowning now. He assumes that's the hand being referred to at least, since he can't think of any other hands of importance.

He sits back, allowing Andrew to sit up now he doesn't seem to be trying so hard to escape.

"Is it?" As he sits up, propping his weight on his hands, Andrew gives the Doctor his most wide-eyed, innocent look, as if this news fascinates him. In reality, it confirms his worst fears about this situation. "Well, that's good to know."

There's no warning (well, no warning that most people would spot; the Doctor still might see it coming). One moment Andrew's sitting fairly docilely, looking like he might maybe perhaps start explaining. The next, he's twisted around and is trying to yank his legs out from under the Doctor so he can get up and run.

He doesn't see it coming enough to actually stop it or properly prepare. He'd only just stood up, and then his legs go flying up from under him, for the fourth time today. This is getting ridiculous.

At least this is the softest fall yet, right onto a heap of pillows, so with some rapid flailing he manages to grab onto Andrew's ankle just as he's getting up to run.

Andrew scrabbles to get his feet under him, ready to launch himself away -- yeah, no, doesn't happen. His attempt to run ends with his foot pulled out from under him and he goes down on his front, taking a harder landing than the Doctor thanks to the fact that he lands on a section of floor where he pulled up the pillows to use as a barricade. He lets out a surprised grunt as the wind gets knocked out of him, and then he's too busy gasping and trying to get air back into his lungs to make another attempt to flee.

The Doctor doesn't waste time in crawling over to Andrew, grabbing his shoulder and rolling him over. He then quickly straddles him, grabbing Andrew's wrists and pinning them to the floor as well. Because he's getting actually annoyed now. He wants answers, damnit, and he's going to get them.

"Are you done?" And gratefully he appears to be stronger than his lookalike, otherwise he's fairly sure Andrew could've wrestled free from this position much easier.

Andrew puts up a brief, almost perfunctory struggle, testing whether he's likely to get loose if he really tries. The answer, of course, is no; even if he weren't a bit stunned from the fall, he knows perfectly well that he doesn't have a Time Lord's strength.

He sighs, and decides to face facts just this once. "Yeah."

"Right. You were saying about the hand?" he prompts. And no, he's not going to let Andrew go now. Not until he actually has some idea what's going on. Honestly, he'd be a lot more trusting if he didn't act so guilty, with all the running away.

"...You're holding it," says Andrew, looking pointedly up at his right hand (and, not so incidentally, away from having to make eye contact). He's not guilty--just embarrassed and resentful.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject