Dean Winchester (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kickingand) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-04-01 06:06 pm
kickingand) wrote in driftfleet2016-04-01 06:06 pm
into the distance a ribbon of black
Who: Dean Winchester (AU) & anyone willing to put up with him
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: the marsiva if anyone wants!
When: RIGHT NOW
[ There is something to be said for the few seconds before truly waking up, when everything is fuzzy and safe and nothing matters as much as it did the night before. But that moment tends to get shot in the foot pretty damn fast, especially when Dean is prone to waking up with a rush of adrenaline. Made infinitely worse by the realization that a) he does not know where he is and b) the automatic grab for the weaponry usually confined to his body results in nothing. Nada. His pistol is nowhere to be found, the blade in his jacket is missing, and no amount of grappling about solves that problem. And while he finds the comm device it only annoys him further because it's not his damn gun.
Which is right around the instant Dean shoves himself off the bed and shouts near as loud as he can manage- ] The hell is this! [ Followed with some more grumbling. ] Be better if I asked which Hell is this.. swear to God, this shit never gets any better.
[ It’s too echoey, too sterile, and the immediate need for answers is almost overpowering. He doesn’t give two shits about looking himself over, pushes aside thoughts of the last image that flashes across his mind, and instead gives one more look around the bed he woke in to try and find his weaponry because fuck this shit. Why he’s unarmed is of particular concern and a vast amount of silent panic, but he doesn’t want to stand here and leave himself open to anything either. Which implies moving, something that takes only another second to decide upon.
Not that he’s going to be going far…
No, after a brief stint of stealthy meandering, Dean manages to find himself striding down towards the medical wing because why the hell not. Where it’s near impossible to resist the urge to start rifling through just about everything he can get his hands on. Because Dean Winchester is a Class Act. And because living through the apocalypse tends to make one appreciate medical supplies, especially when you're inclined to... start shit. ]
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: the marsiva if anyone wants!
When: RIGHT NOW
[ There is something to be said for the few seconds before truly waking up, when everything is fuzzy and safe and nothing matters as much as it did the night before. But that moment tends to get shot in the foot pretty damn fast, especially when Dean is prone to waking up with a rush of adrenaline. Made infinitely worse by the realization that a) he does not know where he is and b) the automatic grab for the weaponry usually confined to his body results in nothing. Nada. His pistol is nowhere to be found, the blade in his jacket is missing, and no amount of grappling about solves that problem. And while he finds the comm device it only annoys him further because it's not his damn gun.
Which is right around the instant Dean shoves himself off the bed and shouts near as loud as he can manage- ] The hell is this! [ Followed with some more grumbling. ] Be better if I asked which Hell is this.. swear to God, this shit never gets any better.
[ It’s too echoey, too sterile, and the immediate need for answers is almost overpowering. He doesn’t give two shits about looking himself over, pushes aside thoughts of the last image that flashes across his mind, and instead gives one more look around the bed he woke in to try and find his weaponry because fuck this shit. Why he’s unarmed is of particular concern and a vast amount of silent panic, but he doesn’t want to stand here and leave himself open to anything either. Which implies moving, something that takes only another second to decide upon.
Not that he’s going to be going far…
No, after a brief stint of stealthy meandering, Dean manages to find himself striding down towards the medical wing because why the hell not. Where it’s near impossible to resist the urge to start rifling through just about everything he can get his hands on. Because Dean Winchester is a Class Act. And because living through the apocalypse tends to make one appreciate medical supplies, especially when you're inclined to... start shit. ]
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I gotta' worry! You're my friend. Um, and my teammate! 'Cuz we're on the same side.
You're okay? You're pretty mad.
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Friend? Shit. This just gets more concerning. ]
Been better. I'll get over it.
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...
So I told them I'd kick their asses! They haven't said nothing back, though.
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Kicking ass is something you've gotta do, sure. [ yup, just perpetuate it. ] Maybe leave it to the big guys, though?
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Everybody's gotta be ready! You never know when the bad guys or the monsters'll come.
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Yes, sir. I've been in bad fights before. I won't let you down!
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Bad fights here? Or wherever you came from.
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But I was on a spaceship before, too. It had a lot of fighting... and there was lots of fighting monsters at home... In Japan! There's always lots of scary things happening. Last time I was there, the sky was red and -- bad stuff was happening.
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We talkin' Godzilla or the boogie man?
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No, sir. The boogie man's not real and Gojira's just a movie.
There was the big ships, and the big aliens — they were cutting everyone up or blowing up the buildings, and some of them were taking people in big ships. Kidnapped! My dad went to help get them back, so I gotta wait for him to come back.
But it wasn't safe; there was robots shaped like... like spiders.
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Your dad- he's not here, is he?
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My dad's real cool like that, he kills monsters...! I do sometimes, too, but I'm still smaller.
But when I'm bigger, I'm gonna protect people like him!
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