Harley -- Dream 15 -- PORN. (SFW, oddly enough. Also, this is a game!)
(((Optional as always) Effects: Mild annoyance, being unimpressed with no real interest, and then he's just squicked and definitelyannoyed.
Notes: It is entirely up to you whether your character sees anything on the laptop screen at all, and to what degree they can make it out, and ditto for the sounds that go with it. (Maybe a viewer can be totally disappointed that they saw/heard nothing but lame music, despite Harley's reaction to it?) The game here is, don't name the thing that squicked Harley. Why? Because one, it's like the Room With A Thing game: you can refer to it all you want, so long as you don't get specifically descriptive enough to narrow it down. And two, I have no idea what it is yet that disturbed him, so I'm just going to leave it open. XD All I know is, it very much isn't "vanilla."
Also, Harley's missing his black Atma mark on the back of his left hand in this dream, and it's in first-person view as always. ♥
Warnings: Mild language. SFW?))
In his hand was a plate full of nachos. Yellow, textured shapes stuck out here and there from below a mass of re-fried beans, chili, a layer of melted, yellow cheddar cheese, and more jalapenos than most people would dare pile up on any dish. Way more. Ah, delicious, delicious jalapenos. He managed to work a chip up from the pile, pepper slices somehow managing to stay on top of it as he did, while he opened the door. His elbow, holding a plastic bottle of soda to his side, managed to push the handle down, and then his shoulder to pushed it in.
He paused at the sounds from inside the room, chip not even in his mouth yet.
It was a warehouse, a big, high place with fluorescent lights above that didn't quite reach every area, and long work tables below that seemed as though they did. Things littered the tables, power tools and spray paint cans, wires and cans and jars of whatever it was -- more paint? -- and foam and pieces of plastic that were being cut up and put back together in different ways, though it was hard to tell just what they were being turned into right now. A handful of people were gathered around one of the tables, all watching a laptop's screen. And then there were the sounds... from somewhere a bit above and to one side of them, from a point in the darkness of the area by one wall of the warehouse, the porno's soundtrack, bad music and people--
"God, you guys. That is so wrong. Isn't this like... the hundredth time or something? Can't you at least put on something else? I've got to work here too." He sighed, pausing as he looked at the chip in his fingers; the peppers had slid off, back onto the pile on the plate. He made his way to one of the other tables to set the soda and nachos down beside what looked to be a cross between a giant mantis-type bug and a turtle, glossy and black and... still being painted, it looked like, the carapace on its back a dull, flat, dark gray thanks to the layer of primer it sported.
"Why don't you take a break and come watch it too?" This, from one of the guys at the laptop.
"I've got a girlfriend, you know." He sat down on the stool, in front of the bug... thing... and nudged peppers back onto his chip with a finger.
"Oh, that's right. She won't let you watch this stuff, huh. Sorry, man."
He rolled his eyes, sucking the drop of jalapeno juice off his fingertip. "See, this is why you'll never get laid, Mike." The previous speaker, Mike, and a couple of the others simply laughed at that. "Mark my words. You're never going to get laid. Ever. You will die a virgin."
"You are such a wuss. I bet you haven't even seen this one before. Who knows... you might actually like it."
He paused, eyeing Mike, the guy sitting directly in front of the laptop. The look he got back was sincere enough, though something in the back of his mind hinted that he ought to be wary. It was Mike, after all. "Why, what is it?"
"Come find out, wuss." Mike simply turned his attention back to the screen again.
A sigh -- but he shoved the chip and its peppers into his mouth, standing up and grabbing his soda as he headed to where they were gathered. He opened it without looking, though not due to the spice... it was something to do while he watched over their shoulders, eyebrow raised. This was what held their interest? Lame. He waited a pause while he swallowed, before speaking up again. "Those are totally fake."
Mike didn't even look back at him. "They are not."
"Are too."
"They are not."
"In case you somehow forgot, I work with the stuff. I know silicone when I see it. They're fake."
A snerk from someone else who was watching with rapt attention. He raised the soda up, about to take a drink, but something on the screen caught his attention, and he turned away, making a face. "Whoah. Dude. If that's your thing, that's your thing, but damn. Warn a guy first, all right?"
Mike only laughed in reply, hard enough to confirm that earlier suspicion, about how honest the suggestion had (or hadn't, in this case) been, while a few of the other viewers looked to be trying to figure out how to react still themselves.
"Cannot. Un. See." He made his way quickly to the other side of their table, and reached for a device on the back of the laptop, unplugging it from the headphones spot.... and suddenly, the sounds from their video cut out entirely, from what was now behind and above him, in the shadows. "You can keep your bad porn; I'm putting on some real music." He headed back to his table again with it, looking to a small stereo that sat just to the side.
"Aw, man... you're no fun."
"Music, dude. Music." He said something else, but the dream ended, and it was lost.
*snuffs, peeking up confusedly from his heap of pillows and blankets, not sure what to make of any of that yet.*
....
*yeah, no comment. So lost here. And so very, very disturbed.*
Notes: It is entirely up to you whether your character sees anything on the laptop screen at all, and to what degree they can make it out, and ditto for the sounds that go with it. (Maybe a viewer can be totally disappointed that they saw/heard nothing but lame music, despite Harley's reaction to it?) The game here is, don't name the thing that squicked Harley. Why? Because one, it's like the Room With A Thing game: you can refer to it all you want, so long as you don't get specifically descriptive enough to narrow it down. And two, I have no idea what it is yet that disturbed him, so I'm just going to leave it open. XD All I know is, it very much isn't "vanilla."
Also, Harley's missing his black Atma mark on the back of his left hand in this dream, and it's in first-person view as always. ♥
Warnings: Mild language. SFW?))
In his hand was a plate full of nachos. Yellow, textured shapes stuck out here and there from below a mass of re-fried beans, chili, a layer of melted, yellow cheddar cheese, and more jalapenos than most people would dare pile up on any dish. Way more. Ah, delicious, delicious jalapenos. He managed to work a chip up from the pile, pepper slices somehow managing to stay on top of it as he did, while he opened the door. His elbow, holding a plastic bottle of soda to his side, managed to push the handle down, and then his shoulder to pushed it in.
He paused at the sounds from inside the room, chip not even in his mouth yet.
It was a warehouse, a big, high place with fluorescent lights above that didn't quite reach every area, and long work tables below that seemed as though they did. Things littered the tables, power tools and spray paint cans, wires and cans and jars of whatever it was -- more paint? -- and foam and pieces of plastic that were being cut up and put back together in different ways, though it was hard to tell just what they were being turned into right now. A handful of people were gathered around one of the tables, all watching a laptop's screen. And then there were the sounds... from somewhere a bit above and to one side of them, from a point in the darkness of the area by one wall of the warehouse, the porno's soundtrack, bad music and people--
"God, you guys. That is so wrong. Isn't this like... the hundredth time or something? Can't you at least put on something else? I've got to work here too." He sighed, pausing as he looked at the chip in his fingers; the peppers had slid off, back onto the pile on the plate. He made his way to one of the other tables to set the soda and nachos down beside what looked to be a cross between a giant mantis-type bug and a turtle, glossy and black and... still being painted, it looked like, the carapace on its back a dull, flat, dark gray thanks to the layer of primer it sported.
"Why don't you take a break and come watch it too?" This, from one of the guys at the laptop.
"I've got a girlfriend, you know." He sat down on the stool, in front of the bug... thing... and nudged peppers back onto his chip with a finger.
"Oh, that's right. She won't let you watch this stuff, huh. Sorry, man."
He rolled his eyes, sucking the drop of jalapeno juice off his fingertip. "See, this is why you'll never get laid, Mike." The previous speaker, Mike, and a couple of the others simply laughed at that. "Mark my words. You're never going to get laid. Ever. You will die a virgin."
"You are such a wuss. I bet you haven't even seen this one before. Who knows... you might actually like it."
He paused, eyeing Mike, the guy sitting directly in front of the laptop. The look he got back was sincere enough, though something in the back of his mind hinted that he ought to be wary. It was Mike, after all. "Why, what is it?"
"Come find out, wuss." Mike simply turned his attention back to the screen again.
A sigh -- but he shoved the chip and its peppers into his mouth, standing up and grabbing his soda as he headed to where they were gathered. He opened it without looking, though not due to the spice... it was something to do while he watched over their shoulders, eyebrow raised. This was what held their interest? Lame. He waited a pause while he swallowed, before speaking up again. "Those are totally fake."
Mike didn't even look back at him. "They are not."
"Are too."
"They are not."
"In case you somehow forgot, I work with the stuff. I know silicone when I see it. They're fake."
A snerk from someone else who was watching with rapt attention. He raised the soda up, about to take a drink, but something on the screen caught his attention, and he turned away, making a face. "Whoah. Dude. If that's your thing, that's your thing, but damn. Warn a guy first, all right?"
Mike only laughed in reply, hard enough to confirm that earlier suspicion, about how honest the suggestion had (or hadn't, in this case) been, while a few of the other viewers looked to be trying to figure out how to react still themselves.
"Cannot. Un. See." He made his way quickly to the other side of their table, and reached for a device on the back of the laptop, unplugging it from the headphones spot.... and suddenly, the sounds from their video cut out entirely, from what was now behind and above him, in the shadows. "You can keep your bad porn; I'm putting on some real music." He headed back to his table again with it, looking to a small stereo that sat just to the side.
"Aw, man... you're no fun."
"Music, dude. Music." He said something else, but the dream ended, and it was lost.
*snuffs, peeking up confusedly from his heap of pillows and blankets, not sure what to make of any of that yet.*
....
*yeah, no comment. So lost here. And so very, very disturbed.*