hadrielmods: (Default)
ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴅᴛᴇᴀᴍ ᴏғ ʜᴀᴅʀɪᴇʟ ([personal profile] hadrielmods) wrote in [community profile] hadriel_logs2016-05-16 10:28 am

Event Log: Dreamwalker

Who: Everyone!
What: The Dreamwalker event
Where: In your comfy bed and your sleepy head.
When: May 16th-26th
Warnings: Good dreams, weird dreams, bad dreams, straight-up nightmares. Please remember to tag for warnings in the header if things are going to be bad!


Have you been having trouble getting a good night's sleep? Tossing and turning, unable to rest those tired eyes? Or maybe you don't sleep at all, and never have. Not to worry! For a little while, you'll have no trouble at all falling asleep - in fact, as night falls, you'll find yourself overwhelmed with exhaustion whether you want to sleep or not. Lay down and rest your weary head, friends. Everyone could use a little extra sleep.

But what will your dreams bring? Something happy, images of a perfect day? Something hopeful, something you've wanted for a long time? Maybe you'll dream of anger, of the face of your worst enemy. Or maybe - just maybe - you'll have a horrific nightmare, and wake screaming, covered in cold sweat.

Not before others have time to see it, though. As you sleep, as you dream, the other residents of Hadriel, friends and enemies and people you've only met once, might find their way into your dreams. Or you might find your way into theirs - and then have to deal with someone's else's nightmares, or hopes, or anger. For the next ten nights, you'll find yourself either a host or a visitor, and no matter how you try you won't be able to stay awake once night falls.

Sweet dreams, Hadriel. Don't let the asshole fear gods bite.


► This log covers May 16th-26th.
► Feel free to make your own logs as well!
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► You can't die in the dreams, but if you somehow manage to trip and fall and kill yourself getting out of bed, please report it on the death post.
bekommen: (nothing lasts forever.)

nick rivenna | open

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-19 12:24 am (UTC)(link)
(ooc: again, happy to match prose or brackets, whichever you prefer! some of these are written from nick's pov, but feel free to have your visiting character switch to their own after the initial experience.)
bekommen: (come over come quick.)

i'm gettin' funny dreams again and again. (delight)

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-19 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
You find yourself sitting in the back seat of a truck as it barrels down a gravel road, surrounded on both sides by fields of late-season corn. The windows are rolled down, and the hot afternoon air rushes through the truck's cab. It's not a large truck, not like one of the modern behemoths, but small and old - so small, in fact, there shouldn't even be a back seat. But there is, and you don't question it, because it's not what's important.

Nick sits next to you in the back seat, relaxed, a soft and uncharacteristic smile on her face. In the driver's seat is a man - mid-thirties, maybe, with dark, close-cropped hair and a strong jawline. In the front passenger seat sits a girl, maybe eight years old; she has long, dark hair, pulled back in sloppily braided pigtails (she did them herself, you can tell). They both wear white tank tops with denim overalls, and are singing along with a song blasting out of the truck's crackling speakers. The man's voice is loud and booming, and the girl's is high and unrefined. She claps along with the percussive beat that forms the backbone of the song, and when you catch sight of her face, you see she has the same piercing blue eyes as Nick, and you know, somehow, impossibly, that the girl is her, too, the same way you know that the man sitting next to her is her father, and they love each other very much.

Because they're having the best time, just the two of them, driving through back roads on a summer afternoon, singing along with their favorite songs. They are entirely present in this moment, and this moment is one of unparalleled bliss.

Nick turns to you, still smiling, and says: "This was a good day."
dedikated: (3 | ᴛʜɪs ᴀɪɴ'ᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ)

\o/ good dreams!

[personal profile] dedikated 2016-05-19 07:45 pm (UTC)(link)
She's always loved the wind in her hair. It feels like freedom and speed, like adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Kate doesn't know where she is or why she is there, but the wind whipping through the car and the sounds of father and daughter singing are as familiar as the tickle of hair against her collarbone - something that goes so far back she can barely remember the world without those memories.

"Looks it." Her eyes are focused on the scene in front of them, as another track starts. "It's nice... just this, you know?"
bekommen: (tip top ready for the rocket.)

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-21 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
The next song starts with a slightly faster tempo and heavier, fuzzed-out guitars. Nick nods her head in time with the beat. "This was always my favorite thing to do with my dad," she says. "Just the two of us, listening to music out here where no one could find us."

In the front seat, the girl reaches over and turns the volume down. "Daddy, what does that mean, 'it's a gas?'" He chuckles warmly at her question and says, "It means something's really good." Her face lights up with sudden understanding. "Oh! I get it now." She reaches over and turns the volume back up and continues singing along.

In the back seat, Nick leans forward, propping her chin on the top of the driver's side headrest. "I sang this song at karaoke once," she says. "It wasn't really the same, but it was the closest thing I had to having something like this again."
dedikated: (| fourteen.)

[personal profile] dedikated 2016-05-21 07:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Kate can't even help the smile that crosses her face for a brief moment when the girl talks to her father. It's impossible to resist the sheer familiarity and joy that comes with the memory, it floods her body until it's impossible to tell who the emotions belong to in the first place. Is it her own memories or something else entirely? But maybe that doesn't matter right now. Instead, she leans back and listens to Nick talk over the sing-a-long in front of them. Her head lolls to one side, watching the woman next to her as she reminisces.

"You do this often?"

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kickingand: (pic#10113636)

[personal profile] kickingand 2016-05-24 08:53 pm (UTC)(link)
Dean sits back and watches and somehow, immediately begins to understand.

The music, the truck, the feeling the scene creates - he knows this. He knows how it feels to be with a parent in this way because he knows how it feels to lose it. The memories that flicker into place as if you're searching for the few things to make up the whole of what you've lost. It doesn't matter that the truck shouldn't have a backseat, that the heat gusts almost uncomfortably against his cheek, and he glances sideways to Nick, watches her for a moment before he looks back. He has memories like this of his own, figments that he's created to replace all the other things he experienced and all he wants to do is start singing along, starting to grin himself because it feels good.

The rush of the wind, the laughter, the way that love creates days you're sure are ending too damn soon but when you're small you're sure are going to last forever.

"Yeah, looks like it. Can't go wrong with The Who."
bekommen: (now you've made an offer.)

aaaand double sorry about the lag here /o\

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-06-03 05:45 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah - that was his second favorite band, after the Stones." She smiles again, and there's something a little more sad in it this time. "I remember he used to play these songs for me all the time when I was a kid, and he used to tell me about how he used to listen to them when he was a kid, and they made him feel - I dunno, like it was possible to belong to something bigger than this shit town where he was born." The same town where she was born too, and her mother, and all the rest of the people who lived and died in Winchester. Nobody ever moved there to stay, and only a few ever moved away.

"I used to think someday when I was old enough, maybe we'd just get in the truck and keep driving and never look back."
kickingand: (Default)

OH GOSH i don't mind!

[personal profile] kickingand 2016-06-03 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
“You’re serious.”

Dean almost sounds surprised at that - all right, he mostly sounds surprised. He’s not entirely sure what to do with that information, especially since it sound so much like his own father. The same shit he grew up hearing, though it wasn’t so much about getting out of a small town as it was about getting out of the life. Going back to a normal one, the kind of thing that Dean swore he never wanted yet always did. Returning to the things they used to have, even if their father never said it. It had always been the idea.

And look where he is now.

But this isn’t about him, and he glances back over, curious as ever, listening to her talk and taking it all in.

“You still listen to it? The music, I mean. His music.”

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bekommen: (now you've made an offer.)

today i belong right here with you. (hope)

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-19 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
It's night. You're sprawled comfortably amidst a sea of pillows and blankets in the bed of a truck, staring up at the night sky. The truck is parked in an empty field, and all is quiet around you except for the faint strains of wandering, wailing guitar and words from the song playing inside the cab of the truck, where the windows have been rolled down to allow the soundtrack to play into the night.

Nick lies next to you, staring up at the night sky. She's younger here than she is in the waking world - sixteen, seventeen at most - hair shorter, eyes ringed with thick, smudged black eyeliner. You can feel the fire of determination burning within her as she points a finger at a flash of light that streaks across the moonless sky - a shooting star. She drops her hand back to her side and turns her head toward you. "Make a wish," she says, grinning.
cowardley: (мy нeαrт ιѕ yoυɴɢ)

[personal profile] cowardley 2016-05-19 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
When you've been trapped beneath a cave for so long, a chance to see the night sky is something you cherish. A streak pierces the inky blue darkness, and Ashley finds her breath caught in her throat, only glancing at Nick when she speaks. It's hard to keep herself from mirroring Nick's expression.

"All right," and Ashley makes a show of it, squeezing her eyes shut. There are a thousand wishes she could make in this moment, but she finds that the only one she wants to make is the one that will allow this moment to last the whole night. She opens one eye, and looks to Nick,"Think it came true?"
bekommen: (come laugh get sick.)

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-23 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
Nick laughs, quiet but warm. "Maybe," she says. "I'd ask what you wished for, but isn't it supposed to stay a secret if you want it to come true?"

She has only one true wish of her own - to see this town shrink into nothing in the truck's rear view mirror. That's not a secret, though; she's determined to make that wish come true with her own effort. That day will come soon, but it can't come soon enough, and until it does, Nick finds that small shred of hope for a better future in moments like these - quiet nights under the stars in secret countryside spaces.

"We're gonna get outta here eventually," she says, staring up at the constellations above, fingers interlaced over her stomach. "We got better things coming."
cowardley: (doɴ'т wαɴɴα вe ғαĸe)

[personal profile] cowardley 2016-05-31 08:52 pm (UTC)(link)
"Like what?" Ashley asks, sitting up on her elbows, watching Nick. The other woman sees something in her future, sees something out there that she wants to grasp, something beyond the things she knows now.

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greywaren: (ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ's ᴛʜᴇ sᴜɴʟɪɢʜᴛ)

[personal profile] greywaren 2016-05-21 05:28 am (UTC)(link)
While Ronan doesn't make a habit of sleeping in the back of a truck with people who he only vaguely knows, there's nothing about this scenario that seems strange to him. Everything just fits like this, and he curls his fingers, not looking toward Nick when she speaks, but nodding his chin once, acknowledging her request and quiet as he thinks.

He makes his wish in silence, closing his eyes for a brief moment- he's never believed in this sort of thing, but this kind of moment seems too magical to break with his own cynicism, and so Ronan opens his eyes a moment later and glances toward Nick, his eyes bright in the dark.

"Where are we going?"

We, because he's in this truck too, because the word just comes as natural to him as anything else. It's just the dream, he knows, but he feels part of this somehow, wrapped up in it until it becomes his own reality.

Dangerous. He knows better. But Hope has always had a bit of a foothold in him, and Ronan isn't used to dreams being able to lie.
bekommen: (come laugh get sick.)

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-23 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
The almost-silence is nice. Comfortable, even, the way it can be when you're in the presence of someone you know well, someone who knows you inside and out. Nick grins again at the question, and it stretches across her entire face, lighting up her eyes in the process.

"We can go anywhere you want," she says. In the background, the song wafting out from the cab of the truck fades and segues into another, this one less bombastic than the one before. "You know that. All you gotta do is say the word, and I'll drive us anywhere."
greywaren: (ᴏғғᴇʀ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜʟᴇss ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ)

[personal profile] greywaren 2016-05-25 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
Ronan isn't used to being known- he gives others the opportunity sometimes and he's happy when they take it, but he isn't used to this feeling of being hollowed out with the knowing, like every corner of him is still somehow within view.

It makes him feel oddly introspective, and he turns back up toward the sky at her offer, his heart eager and full of the possibility of it. Unbidden, and without really thinking about it, he murmurs-

"-Singer's Falls."

He regrets it as soon as he says it, like the hope for the thing wasn't real until he said it out loud- but it's impossible to really be upset in this kind of night, and so Ronan merely shakes his head to get rid of the idea, and gently corrects himself.

"No, I mean- shit, somewhere colder than this. It's too fucking hot out here."

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bekommen: (gimme shelter.)

come closer and see, see into the trees. find the girl while you can. (fear) - likely cw blood, gore

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-19 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
It's dark, and you can't tell if it's because the sun is actually gone from the sky or because the canopy of trees that surrounds you is so thick it blocks out the light. You're running, stumbling through the underbrush wherever there's any sign of give, because there are no paths for you to follow, and you wouldn't take them anyway, because you don't want to give whatever is following you any more of an advantage than it already has.

You're running, but you're not a practiced runner. You're relying on sheer instinct and adrenaline, pure will to survive. Your muscles ache, and your lungs burn, and still you push forward, gasping for air, as branches claw at your arms and the clicking, hissing sound of that thing speaking your name echoes in time with the beat of your heart in your ears.

You crash past a gate of low-hanging tree limbs and find yourself in a clearing. It's still dark - twilight, now that there are no leaves overhead to shade you from the sky - but there's enough light to make out a thick carpet of red rose petals as far as the clearing stretches, all the way to the next line of trees. You stop, and you shiver, and you don't know what you should do next, but you're pretty sure what you're going to do next is die.
unfollowing: ($600 torch)

come at me bruh

[personal profile] unfollowing 2016-05-19 12:40 am (UTC)(link)
What the fuck is up with these rose petals? "Fucked up deathbed shit." Emily sticks to the shadows on the edge of the clearing as best she can, footsteps light as possible against the grass, the leaves, any fallen branches. That freaky thing is coming for her and goddamn if she isn't going to make it work to kill her.
bekommen: (we are standing on the edge.)

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-21 06:54 am (UTC)(link)
Oh Jesus, this is just perfect, isn't it. Emily is about the absolute worst person in the world to be running into with that fucking thing on her heels. She doesn't even have the good sense to keep quiet.

"Shut up!" Nick hiss-whispers in her direction, with an agitated wave of her hand. "You're gonna attract its attention."
unfollowing: (it was just a prank)

emily no

[personal profile] unfollowing 2016-05-21 06:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Fucking great. It's this bitch.

...did she seriously just try to help her, though?

"I thought you'd rather all us Ayjunz die off!" Emily hiss-whispers back.

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cw blood and grossness

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bekommen: (we are standing on the edge.)

hey. you. get off of my cloud. (rage) - cw verbal and physical child abuse, use of ableist slur

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-19 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
You're ten years old and you hate everything about your life except for the beat-up Walkman you got for your birthday three years ago and the collection of your father's cassette tapes you keep hidden in a shoebox in the back corner of your closet.

"Nichole Anne Rivenna!" You hear the shrill of your mother's voice over the music pumping through your headphones, and you scramble upright on your bed, heart pounding, and push the button to stop the cassette mid-chorus. You pull the headphones off your ears and hide the Walkman under your pillow and scurry out of your bedroom, into the hallway leading toward the kitchen. She summoned you using your full name, and that always means trouble.

"What?" you ask, panic building in your tightening chest, as you come into view of your mother. She's not a tall woman, but she's taller than you still, and she doesn't look much like you at all, with dusty blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and too much cherry-red lipstick around her scowl of a mouth. She stands in front of the kitchen sink and beckons you to come closer, and you don't want to, but you know whatever's in store will only be worse if you refuse.

"What the fuck is this?" she spits, pointing a red-tipped finger into the sink. You already know what she's pointing at; you left your dinner plate in the sink earlier, and you meant to come back and wash it before she woke up, but you lost track of the time. You stare at the chipped edge of the polish on her fingernail - the same shade as what she wears around her mouth - and you don't say anything, because you don't have a good answer.

You remain silent, and she slaps you on the back of your head, hard enough that you see flashes of light around the edges of your eyes, but you bite your bottom lip to keep the yelp of pain locked inside your throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment's escape. "Are you fucking retarded, Nichole?" she shouts, and of all the things you hate about your life, you hate the way your name sounds coming out of your mother's mouth most of all. "I asked you a goddamn question and you better answer it, or else."

You know all too well what or else means, and you don't want it, so you answer her. "I'm sorry," you say, "I just forgot!" It's an honest mistake; why can't she understand that? People forget things all the time, but you're not allowed to forget any of your mother's rules, ever, and that includes washing the dishes.

She grabs you by the shoulders and turns you around, backs you into the edge of the counter, and it hurts, but you don't cry out, because that will only make things worse for you. As long as you pretend it doesn't hurt, you're not safe, but you're safer than you would be otherwise. She sneers at you. "You forgot? That's bullshit, Nichole."

"But - really!" you protest, panicked, "I really just forgot, I didn't mean to - " but you don't get to finish, because she slaps you, hard, across your cheek, and it's all you can do to keep from showing her just how much it hurts.

"I wait on ungrateful shits day in and day out to keep a roof over your worthless head, and I'll be damned if I'm going to do it in my own home," she says, stalking to the kitchen table and rummaging around in her purse for her keys. "You take care of that, now, and I don't want to hear any more bullshit about it from you, Nichole. You got it?"

"Fine," you say, skin stinging with the imprint of your mother's palm as you turn toward the sink. Hot, angry tears spring up in your eyes, but you don't allow them to fall, because crying is the worst possible thing you can do in front of your mother. You blink them back and you turn on the faucet and you soak the sponge you'll use to wash your plate, and you think that maybe you're a sponge too, because every time something like this happens, you walk away soaked with stifled fury and hate.
unknowable: (you never returned that call)

[personal profile] unknowable 2016-05-20 05:37 am (UTC)(link)
It's familiar. Too familiar, and something inside Adam flinches away from the sight, because it could have been him any number of times. His mother never hit him - she wasn't that kind of person, she used her words carelessly instead. Or maybe too carefully, undermining him and planting doubt and distrust that are so deeply buried he still stumbles upon hidden pockets of pain, almost a year since he left that trailer.

But the easy violence is familiar, the harsh words are even more so. He can't stop it - he can't do anything but watch, not until the woman is walking away. He doesn't recognize Nick, not in that moment, but it doesn't matter. He might not have been able to stop it, but there was never anyone who helped him afterward. He can, at least, give her that much.

He approaches carefully, footsteps soft and voice quiet.

"Here. Let me do it."
bekommen: (gimme shelter.)

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-23 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
The girl's shoulders tense in spite of how gentle his words are, hanging in the air between them. It's not a voice she recognizes, but that means it's not her mother, back to deal more damage. She turns to look back at Adam, mouth pursed tightly with the concentrated effort of keeping the angry tears from spilling down her cheeks.

"I can't," she says, with a quick shake of her head. "She'll get mad if anyone helps." She turns back to stare down at the sink, reaching for the bottle of dish soap on the edge of the basin. "She's right. I was stupid, I should've remembered to wash it right away. It's my fault."
unknowable: (it's always darkest before the dawn)

[personal profile] unknowable 2016-05-24 05:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"So you forgot." He shrugs, watching her. He doesn't try to take the plate away. "People forget stuff. It's not an unforgivable sin. Even if you make a mistake, that doesn't give her the right to treat you like that."

It's recent, still, for Adam. It's a fresh wound still slowly healing, not an old scar. But no one said these things to him, not until it was too late for them to do any good. He says them now, for both of them. He believes it, for her. He wants to believe it for himself, too.

"You don't deserve that."

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thechoiceisyours: (❄ ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ)

[personal profile] thechoiceisyours 2016-05-23 03:10 am (UTC)(link)
It's only because he's living the dream, at least at first, that Chris doesn't do anything; he experiences the scene from Nick's view, but part of him knows this is totally wrong. Not just wrong in general--which is is, entirely--but wrong for him, because his parents had barely ever even raised their voices toward him when he was growing up. So it's really shocking, even more so than it would've been otherwise, as the dream unfolds.

It's only after Nick's mother has left the kitchen that Chris finds himself as himself once again, in the corner of the kitchen and reeling a bit from the entire thing. But the little girl at the sink is more important than being shocked, and Chris approaches her in concern.

"Hey, are you okay?" He means physically, at last for now, because geez. What kind of adult hits a kid, especially a girl?
bekommen: (gimme shelter.)

[personal profile] bekommen 2016-05-24 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
"I'm fine." The girl's shoulders are tense, her voice barely louder than the sound of water running in the sink. She doesn't look back over her shoulder at him; the only thing worse than having her mother find her upset is someone else witnessing it.

"You weren't supposed to see that." She drizzles some dish soap on the plate and scrubs hard against the surface with the sponge.

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