#I mean- it *is* a dreamscape and you can do practically anything you can imagine in a dreamscape

[iceswords]

Community Service Time

yanqing wouldn't step foot in that church again even after being counseled and explaining in his words what had happened. he needed something to do.. and as he walked around dreamflux reef, he overheard someone talking about the damage done to the dreamjolt troupe members and while misha had snuck him into the reverie in the dream- all yanqing had done so far was fight the memory memes and dreamjolt members located within.

today he decided to check out dreamjolt hostelry where many of the broken and forgotten dreamjolt members hung out. of course they were hostile towards yanqing at first, thinking he had come to attack them once again but managed to find a way to bridge the gap with the help of the new bartenders- stelle and caelus who both were willing to vouch for his character and the dreamjolt members appear to have grown to trust them.

" yanqing is a good kid- just troubled!" caelus had informed the machinal lifeforms, " he often acts on instinct, sometimes acts based on orders given but always trying his best." while stelle nodded along as she attempted to do a trick with one of the glasses but ended up accidentally dropping it and it breaking." kinda like us!" she then noted, placing hands on hips as if she had meant to break that glass while yanqing merely stared up at the twin trailblazers in awe.

" umm.. I don't know if I feel comfortable letting you mix drinks. not because you're not capable or anything but just.. no." stelle explained after cleaning up her mess and going over to talk to yanqing who looked willing to help as always, " clara showed up a while ago. she has been trying to help fix the more damaged dreamjolt troupe members. you can go see if she needs anything."

and after being informed of where to find the white haired girl, yanqing went off to do so and found that the girl was accompanied by a large mechanic lifeform. yanqing was getting used to seeing those at this point but this one in particular was large and towered over him with one big camera lens of an eye that almost stared into his soul.

" oh! you must be eros' kid! I don't think we've properly met yet." the girl spoke with such a quiet and gentle voice. kinda reminded him of huohou or misha in a way while the girl looked to be around his own age or even younger while walking around barefoot. " my name is clara and this is mr svarog." she introduced herself and svarog with a hand gesture up to the man in question when she said his name. yep. exactly like houhou.

though clara gave up a sweet smile to yanqing and didn't appear to be all that frightened but then again she had a large automaton watching over her. yanqing had witnessed first hand their destructive power and near immovabitiy when the unshackled unleased all those automatic robots onto the luofu.

" nice to meet you, clara! I'm yanqing and uhh.. this sword.. is yanzhuo." yanqing introduced himself and his main sword to the girl before explaining to the two that he was looking for something to do. perhaps help clara and svarog in some way.

clara placed a hand to her chin and arm cross her chest as she thought over what kind of task to give to yanqing as she didn't really know what he was capable of yet before giving up a glance to svarog who stood there in middle of a calculation." I searched the intergalactic web for a yanqing that matches the boy's physical description." the robot would soon start to say matter-of-factly as most mechanic lifeforms tended to do, " what I found is: youngest lieutenant of the xianzhou luofu cloud knights and retainer of the current arbiter general of the xianzhou luofu, jing yuan. all sources state that he is a spirited and capable swordsman who has a track accord of helping to resolve problems. not to mention a long list of skills but mainly he is most gifted with swordsmanship."

" hmm.. I see. could you provide me this list of other skills?" asked clara and suddenly it felt as if yanqing was being interviewed for a job as the robot proceeded to list off all the hobbies, talents and other such things the boy took a hand to but didn't fully master. clara nodded in reply as she got the idea that yanqing was something of a jack of all trades. perhaps that blogging thing little gui taught yanqing was useful after all. " alright. you may tag along with us while we look after these fellas. some of them tend to get violent. don't worry about holding back if any attack you, I will be able to fix them right away afterwards but I'm not as capable of fixing up a living person."

and thus yanqing followed clara and svarog around the reverie within the dream, checking up on different dreamjolt members and seeing what needed to be fixed. occasionally clara would have yanqing run on an errand or two to find something for her but eventually the group would head out into the rest of the dreamscape, checking up on the dreamjolt members being used by the bloodhound family. some of them even recognized yanqing from earlier when he fought them off while waiting for sleepie to arrive.

eventually the trio would stop somewhere and clara would turn to face yanqing. " thank you for your assistance, lieutenant. I am sure the dreamjolt troupe members appreciate it." she thanked the boy who then looked up at svarog. that automaton had been the main thing that protected clara from any threats, yanqing really didn't feel like he did all that much.

" there seems to be only a 0.09% satisfaction rate and a 50.99% annoyance rate on lieutenant yanqing's end." svarog pointed out to the girl as he stared yanqing down in turn, " do you require a reward? most people ask for a reward at this stage."

" ohh! right." noted clara as she looked between robot and boy who appeared to be in the middle of an intense staring contest before svarog looked over to the girl. " well.. I don't have enough [ currency ] for a sword or anything but I think I have something you may like." she spoke to yanqing before looking through the pockets of her red knitted sweater.

yanqing blinked and shook his head as he looked to clara, " oh, no, it's just that I usually do more than just.. running around on errands." he explained to the two of them while svaorg took a moment to analyze the situation before coming up with an answer, " all honest work is good work. you may not find it as taxing or thrilling as your usual duties but it is of great help to us and therefore you will be given due compensation."

there seemed to be no turning down a reward as yanqing decided to head back to dreamflux reef for now since clara didn't seem to find anything in her pockets that would be considered a reward for yanqing. misha wasn't off the clock yet while arlan was still off patrolling some part of the dreamscape or doing some security duties as the lieutenant walked around timesplit square until catching a glimpse of micha. the hotel's grave keeper whose duties consisted of cleaning and maintaining the graves located in the dreamscape.

he had that blue ship crew-esque jacket that sort of matched with misha's outfit. a kind of uniform for the hotel staff. not many guests seem to really pay any mind to them. it reminded yanqing that maybe there was something else he could do for misha.. but what? he didn't really know as he soon headed over to slumber town and went to the other boy's house.

it was old.. not dusty or rotting in any way but you could tell that it has been there for a long time. perhaps as long as dreamflux reef itself. an apartment climax with a open kitchen and living room layout on the first floor.

walk through the kitchen and turn the corner, you will immediately be greeted by the staircase leading upstairs on your right hand side. yanqing looked around for a moment, realizing just how lifeless it was. there were no photos, no misha and no clockie. there were clocks and gears. pocket watches all piled in a basket on a table in the entryway. there was a distinct theme of ships and sailing but none of it really screamed home or misha for that matter. he would continue on through the kitchen and head up the stairs to the second floor hallway.

it was almost like you were on a cruise ship. yanqing looked around before finding locating which door led into misha's bedroom, opening it slightly to peek and see that it wasn't as neat and tidy as one would imagine it to be nor did it look like it really belonged to a teenage boy aside from a few clockie figurines and other things.

closing the door again and walking away. yanqing continued to look around.. he remembered the things misha had showed him out in the dream's edge and wondered if he could spot any in there. how the dreamweavers weaved their dreams.

reaching up a hand and soon a pen appeared to land in it. on the top of the pen was that purple owl and screen opened up in front of him with layouts of the different areas of the apartment. touching the tip of the pen to the screen and moving an image there would cause the same change to happen to that particular section of the house.

with a bold smirk and nod, yanqing got into dream weaving mode. starting with switching out the ship and sailing decore with more train stuff, specifically things that align with the look and feel of the astral express without changing the entire layout of the house. moving the clockie merch and clocks evenly throughout the house with a swipe and tab of a pen on screen.

it was like he was playing the sims or one of those interior decorating mobile games. click and dragging the emptied bottles left by gallagher into the trash. slightly changing the lightning to produce more light but not too much light. adding a pom-pom plush somewhere in misha's room after cleaning up and reorganizing with clicks and drags of a pen. it started to look more like a teenage boy's room but more specifically a room - in yanqing's humble opinion - that misha would like very much.

gallegher on the other hand can clean up and fix his own room whenever he shows up. that lying drunkard. and this had all only taken the boy about a ten or so system minutes to do. much more easy and simple than dreamweavers make it out to be before the screen and pen disappeared.

giving one proud look around at his work with hands on hips and nodding to himself before heading back downstairs to the first floor and laying down on the couch. ah yes. nice. he was positive that misha would love it. clockie merch, horror flicks and plushies of characters from those horror flicks. it was like being in the train without being on the train. a nice taste of where misha one day wanted to be.

yanqing would decide to watch one of those horror flicks for now and wait for misha's return home but surprisingly gallagher was the one to show up first and take in what the lieutenant had done to the place.

man would take it all in for only a second before proceeding to act like this was how it always looked like and headed up to his room. yep. gallgeher's house certainly did not have any ships or sailing related decore. none at all. and yeah, gallagher owns the house.

what? did you think misha lived by himself? that would be both irresponsible and neglectful. and speaking of misha.. the bellhop would soon arrive within in the hour and step into the living room, seeing yanqing and start up with, " honey! I'm home!" almost as if this was some kind of sitcom about a married couple while clockie appeared in the place and looked around.

misha himself would blink and take in the new appearance of the interior of the house but was much too sleepy to question it while yanqing came right over to greet him, " welcome home, dear!" the swordsman smiled brightly at him before taking misha's hand and leading him into the living room, " do you like the new look? I thought you could use something.. more homey to come back to." he explained and took a seat in the couch while misha just allowed himself to simply plump down and lay against him, eyes still looking around before landing on the tv as the bellhop found the tall lizard-looking thin creature with a big forehead that was on screen rather adorable.

" I love it! it's like.. living on the express with everything I love." misha answered, nuzzling into the other and wrapping arms around the blonde while continuing to watch the horror flick while yanqing leaned back into the couch, holding the other close to him as they practically laid and snuggled together up on the couch and it wasn't long before clockie was sitting there with. " oh boy! this sure is quite the home now, isn't it?" the tiny guy exclaimed.

[deathbxnny]

I saw ur hsr requests for Penacony were open so I had to sprint in first!! This ones pretty basic tho but it gave me brainrot for a few days. Could I request headcanons for Sunday with a daughter with a chronic illness? The only reason this had me in brainrot was because imagine Sunday trying to get everything like festivals and further expansions of the dreamscape perfect for his daughter! Or even his daughter being like a little ray of sunshine for him amidst the work and diplomacy facade. Or even using her illness as a way to have her close by under the guise of 'Learning how to lead when she has to take-over'. Or even auntie Robin, it's giving cheek pinches...

I really love this idea, Anon!! It's definitely very interesting! So thank you for the request and I hope you'll like this!!<3

Content: Daughter is a young teen girl, dad Sunday, talks of vaguely described chronical illness, brainwashing?, manipulation/gaslighting?, slight themes of obsession, potentially ooc Sunday??, sfw

Daughter is referred to with she/her pronouns here!!

(Not fully proofread, may be edited if mistakes are found.)

Sunday's daughter was known by many guests to be Penacony's so-called princess, the next in line to inherit the man's place as the head of the family one day. Another thing she was known for was her chronical illness, which has always made her life rather difficult since birth. Sunday took the challenges with pride and ease, not once treating her like a burden. In fact, he saw her as perfection, a gift from THEM to him for his neverending loyalty and devotion.

He had the best doctors' money could possibly buy lined up for her every need and woe, never a single penny spared on spoiling her either. She could do no wrong, and neither could he in her eyes, which he, ofcourse, ensured of. He took care of her day and night, abandoning his own duties at a simple call for him. It may be a bad habit of his, but alas, his dear child came first at all times.

His daughter is made to believe that no one can take care of her as good as her father can. He is everything to her, and in a way, she also idolises him in turn. It's how he ensures that she stays by his side, where it's safe, and he can protect her from everything... and everyone, ofcourse. That, however, means she'll grow up very sheltered, but it's worth the sacrifice for her health in Sunday's eyes.

With that said, he will stop at nothing to make her a perfect leader for the future of Penacony and her own. He teaches her the ins and outs of the dreamscape's, how to lead with pride and strength under THEIR eyes. He instills the fear and devotion to THEM in her too naturally.

He trusts his daughter with no one. Robin is the only exception, ofcourse. She may not be around often due to her career as an idol, but she LOVES spoiling her niece with tons of gifts whenever she returns from a long tour. She dotes on her and definitely pulls on her cheeks, unable to contain her love and affections. Her heart often aches when she sees the illness in the girl get worse, but she'll try cheering her up with songs and stories of her travels to make her forget the pain even momentarily.

Festivals in Penacony are meanwhile also seemingly solely made for Sunday's daughter, just like basically most expansions in the dreamscape ever since her birth. All the fun things she likes are included in everything one way or another. And whilst children aren't usually allowed in the dreamscape, she is an exception on these special days and occasions. He practically burns himself out to make everything as perfect as possible, just to see his dear daughter smile.

All of his hard and grueling work is worth it through her existence in his life. She is the sun that makes him keep going and retain the warmth in him he was slowly losing due to his responsibilities as a leader and diplomat. Seeing her happy makes him feel deserving to breathe, and so he will do anything to keep it that way.

Okay, so I hope this is alright, Anon, because I'm honestly writing this a little sleep deprived (and painfully sick, lmao), but thank you again for the request!!<33

[cantfightmoonlight]

Lifting herself up to her tiptoes, she pressed the most tender of kisses against her lips. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she slowly lowered herself back down to earth, moving to burry her face against his chest. She could feel his body, still rigid and tense and she hated that her words, even for a moment, had put him on edge. Though she understood his sentiment. She couldn't bare the thought of anything happening to him ever. She didn't mean to have become so codependent when it came to him, but the truth of the matter was, if she could remember a time in her life when he wasn't in it, she wouldn't want to. It was as if she hadn't truly started to live for herself until she met him. He was so entangled in her life now, such a part of her, that when she tried to imagine a future without him it, it was her own existence simply ceased.

"But- but I do. I just," Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as she admitted, "like to hear you say it." It was silly really. She knew he wasn't a man of many words and she loved that about him, but also couldn't help, but light up when he did decide to vocalized how much he cared. Her heart would begin to race all over again and she find herself acting like a giddy schoolgirl the way she had back when she had that huge crush on him in the weeks after they had first met. You would think after two years, the feeling a weightlessly and butterflies would subside and, yet, her stomach seemed to do even more flip flops now than it had back then. Especially, when he wrapped his hands around hers and kissed her forehead. She could practically feel her knees go weak.

"Really?" Her eyes lit up once more as she tossed her arms happily around his neck. Lifting herself up on her tiptoes once more as she began to shower him with kisses. "Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You won't regret it, I promise! I'll enter the dream right away so that neither of us have any nightmares and then we can go to dreamscape Paris or London or where you want. We can go to all of the places I've ever been and oh! I could show you Turkey. You'd love Turkey. I could show you around my favorite streets and we could do the more touristy things like see the Grand Bazaar, but without all the people. Actually, I don't even know what the Grand Bazaar would look like without all of the people, but still. It would," A breathless warmth began to radiant off of her glowing smile as she told him, "It would really mean the world to me."

"I'm aware, but it's," A frustrated sigh broke from her lips. "how you said it. As if I said something that offended you, so rather than admit that, I was being dismissed and written of," She tried to explain. "Which I get was a reaction to what I initially said, but it still is frustrating," She tact out followed by a crease of her brows and a drawn out pout. "What do you mean there was nothing to acknowledge? Me mentioning Todd clearly rubbed you the wrong way, so why not talk about it? Do we? How do you know if we don't talk about it?"

"Well, then I felt a shitty person. Okay? You can say he was a ghost all you want, but you didn't speak to him. You didn't look him in the eyes as he was pouring his heart out to you and trick him. I pretended to be someone he could trust so that I could protect Rohan. I viewed him as just a ghost, like his life didn't matter, even after he looked me in the eyes and told me about how he didn't want to go back to being trapped in essentially a prison for the next however many centuries. Like the Genie in Aladdin who was trapped in the lamp and I know you've probably never seen that movie, but I made a choice that trapped him his worst nightmare and, the guilt ate me alive for a week, so I made a petition in an attempt to relieve my conscience. You can say it's an act of kindness, but I did it to alleviate my own guilt, not for him, and I didn't ask for anyone to raise him from the dead. I just didn't think it was fair for his spirit to remained trapped is all. But, if he's only some incorporeal spirit to you, then what about Bri or Poppy? They came back. Should they have stayed dead? You don't have to think it's good news for Todd, but whether it's much of a life or not, some people are just happy to be alive and they're allowed to be. My life has never been much of a life. Not until I met you. Majority of the life I have lived belonged to someone else or was spent living on the run, but should I not be happy to be here then?" She asked, only when he mentioned he was living on borrowed time, she stop trying to explain herself.

Instead, she grew quiet. Her gaze falling to the ground as she muttered under her breath, "I hate when you say things like that." He had told her no talk of dying and she had agreed, but what about him? He could speak of his own borrowed time so flippantly and that was fine? Her own breath caught in her throat as she moved to wrap her arms herself in an attempt to hold herself back from shaking at the thought, they way he had similarly been a few moments ago. "I'm not hurt. I'm frustrated. You can be frustrating, especially when you speak of your life as if it's nothing when you mean the world to me. But, you're right. Maybe we don't see eye to eye on this," She pressed her lips together as she found herself letting out another shaky breath. The truth of the matter was that she couldn't nor would she ever view someone like Todd as not being a person even when dead, because her boyfriend was standing right before her, having died and come back, and he was the most real part of her life and, while she never asked for Todd to come back nor had completely made up her mind as to what to think of him being back, when it came to Ken, while he may wish that he had stayed dead, him coming back had been happiest chain of events to ever happen for her.

"No. I was annoyed because I thought you thought that I was choosing Todd over Rohan. I also think it's rude that you are no longer swayed by my cuteness, but that's a whole other thing along with you pulling away. But, I'm not hurt. I just want to shake your shoulders right now, because you can sometimes be such a- a- butt head," She exclaimed, followed by another frustrated sigh. Though, as he pulled her back into his arms, she welcomed the embrace. Melting into his arms as she returned to hiding her face against his chest. "Or he just wanted to fuck you. You can be very fuckable," She mumbled out, her words no more than a soft murmur for him alone to be able to hear. "I do and I love you too, but can't I still be jealous over you?" She started to ask, but as he began to place a trail of kisses along her neck, her entire face flushed a bright pink in embarrassment. "Ken," She cleared her throat, giving him a small nod as he said not here. "Yeah, let's go home. Like now, though, for future reference? Anytime, I seem upset? I'm probably just slightly ticked off or hungry and being dramatic. So, if you just hold me, I'll be fine. Word to the wise and all. Anyways," She gave him hand a small tug towards the parking lot where his car was parked.

END.

He leaned into her touch with a slow exhale, the only one who could calm his thoughts in such a manner, nodding to what she said he agreed to that wholeheartedly, "No other lifetimes." He wanted to promise her that but words died before they could be uttered, why his brain chimed it'll just be another point of failure. He didn't have the energy to refute that no matter how much he wanted to. But the other, that he could confirm, "Of course. You can't be surprised like that when I say such things, I need you to believe it, babe, who else but you?" Hands wrapped around, a kiss to the top of her head as she clung to him. If there was a moment where he could pause time, now would be that moment. He had to wonder her reaction if he elaborate on what he said, spill his thoughts on the topic, reveal future plans…but this wasn't the time for it. Not so open, not so publicly, not when she pouted at him like that in the next beat.

This needed more thought than he had allocated for it, but when she spoke on her struggles, he had to give in. His hauntings were his own, they had their own way to torture him in waking moments and would likely hit worse if gave into sleep, but for her.. for her he would bear it. He couldn't be so selfish to keep her from such a thing, away from horrors was part of the promise to protect was it not? And to think he was keeping from sleeping when she required it and he did not outweighed any reasonings creeping fear came up with. He did not allow himself to feel such a thing anymore. "Alright," he said after a heavy swallow, trying to keep his voice level and even, "I don't want you to keep going through that. I'll sleep." And off in the corners of his mind, a door opened, releasing an unsettling gust through him, laughter echoing on that wind.

The switch now drew confusion back onto his face, "But I did? I said I was aware, I saw Rohan this morning. Again, don't bother was an answer to you saying you won't bother." With a deep breath, he continued, "Look, it's clear to me now that I didn't pick up your tone when you first said it. To say one thing and mean something else is not a skill I'm well versed in." He had scanned her statements for sarcasm too, but that he knew how to spot on since it was something he used heavily, but hers held a something else he failed to recognise. He could not tell if she was playing him nor did he have the energy to autopsy more words to find what she wanted him to do, picking one thing that stood out, he followed that path, "There was nothing to acknowledge with that, your expatiation on Todd made me file it away because you felt so strongly on it, which isn't bad if that's what you thought. We have differing opinions." Ken listened to her explain he shook his head, "That's not selfish, that word holds more weight than you're giving it. At least to me it does. You knocking off that hat was the right move, not damning a person, it's a ghost. Ghost. Incorporeal spirit. And Rohan knows my thoughts on the matter too." He softened the edges of his tone, "I'm not here to upset you more but if you want me to say it fine. I don't think it's good news for Todd either, he's tethered to Rohan, that's not a life. Which, sure, is rich coming from someone living on borrowed time, but there you go. If he's happy then fantastic, my opinions won't change his outlook on life. Todd looks at you like that because you're one of the only ones that tried to do something, if you don't see that as an act of kindness and caring, then I really don't know what else to say. If any of that sounded harsh and caused your hurt to increase, I'm sorry, but you wanted me to speak on it."

Another switch had him shut eyes tight trying to process yet again. "What? That's…" Christ. "You're upset I don't find you cute? Did I not just say you're irresistible? Or is it because I didn't kiss you? I'm thoroughly confused." And emotionally spent trying to figure this out too but he faced her anyway and so taken aback by the sharpness at which she said that again he genuinely couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out, "Yes, I heard you the first time, I'm still processing that you actually need me to confirm. Suresh was likely trying to rile you up, and I think you fell for it." Casting the very public place they were in and his discomfort on it aside for a minute since it became obvious what she wanted, intimacy naturally laced his words as he wrapped arms around her waist, the act alone easing the static in his head to a clearer space, "You do realise I'm in love with you, right? Or is that going to come as another surprise? I really didn't think that was something that needed to be said but…" He bent his head to place a trail of kisses along her neck, "Is this proof enough that I don't want Suresh or do you need more? If yes, please not here."

[dearkusuo]

Ch. 2 ☆ Last Christmas

Synopsis: You were intent on avoiding your ex-boyfriend all of winter break, however, your mom and her best friend had other plans lined up for you.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x reader

Tags: college au, fluff, angst

Word Count: 1.7k

m.list ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 1 ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 2 ▪︎▪︎▪︎ 3

"Wake up," a hazy voice made its way through your eardrums. Your body refused to respond despite the nagging tone roaring at you to come back from your dreamscape. You croaked out an incoherent mumble, shifting around unconsciously on your bed. A soft click resounded as your bedroom lights were switched on, causing you to grimace uncomfortably at the sudden brightness.

"Don't you think it's time for you to get out of bed?"

It took you a minute to register your mother's words as grogginess slowly faded from your half-woken state.

"Why don't you ever let me sleep in?" you grumbled.

"It's already noon."

"So what?" you yawned, sitting up with your arms stretching out.

“Get up,” your mother sang cheerily. "We're going to decorate Kurumi's house for the party."

Your eyes heavily blinked a few times and your head tilted to one side, hoping that you heard her wrong. The last you checked, your neighbours’ halls were decked and loaded enough to practically be Santa’s workshop.

"I don't think they need any more decorations," you retorted.

"But we don’t think it’s festive enough," your mother explained.

You crossed your arms, eyebrows knitting together. Of course they would find an excuse to make things more over the top. Still, you knew better than to waste your breath in arguing against their logic.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” you remarked sharply.

“I took the rest of the month off so we could plan for the party.”

A frustrated groan hit your throat as your head fell back to face the ceiling.

“Why are you acting so disappointed?” your mother snarked while she forcefully dragged you out of bed, pushing you to get ready and leaving you alone in your room.

“Wear something nice okay? Kusuo is gonna be there,” she commanded sternly, her voice muffled from the other side of the door.

You dug through your closet as your eyes rolled back. Why did it matter what he thought of how you looked? 

"You know we broke up a long time ago right?" you quipped, putting on a random outfit.

"I know," your mother replied.

"So why does it seem like you're forcing us to spend time together?"

You could almost imagine her batting her eyelashes at you, a widely innocent smile adorning her face as she said, “I don't know what you mean." You scoffed at her words as you stared at the mirror, fixing up your appearance.

She grabbed your wrist as soon as you left the room, dragging you along with her. Before you knew it, your mother was ringing the buzzer of your neighbour’s house while you both stood outside the gate. Mrs. Saiki happily welcomed you both into her home, quickly guiding you to the living room.

“You wanted more decorations?” you confirmed, gawking dubiously at the excessive embellishments around you.

Mrs. Saiki shared an obscure look with your mother, an ambiguous conversation passing between them. “Yes, that’s right,” your neighbour replied, “ I need this place to be even more festive for the party.”

You heard the patter of footsteps marching down the stairs. A familiar blond head popped into the room with a cheeky smile spread on his lips.

“Are we having guests right now?”

“Kuusuke, it’s so good to see you again,” your mother called out. The blond man walked up to you, giving you and your mother a quick greeting.

“Where’s Kuu-chan?” Mrs. Saiki inquired.

“I’m sure he’ll be down in a bit,” Kuusuke responded politely.

As if on cue, you picked up on the sound of another person descending from the second floor. Kusuo joined his brother, standing a foot away from him. His face remained blank as he skimmed the room before his eyes fell on your own. You shyly looked at the ground, eyeing the dark patterns of the wooden tiles. Your mother gushed heartily over him just as she did with his older brother.

“Oh, I just realized that I don’t have any more decorations for the party,” Mrs. Saiki gasped. Probably because she already used up all of it.

You turned to your mother, getting ready to call it a day so you could head back to bed, but the hand she placed on your shoulder halted you from making a move. 

“Why don’t you go to the mall and buy some?” she suggested with a suspicious grin she tried so obviously to hide.

You blinked at her, hoping that the subtle glare you gave her made it obvious that you were not in the mood to be granting any favours.

“Your dad took the car to work, so it’ll be more convenient for you since you can drive,” she pointed out.

“Will that be okay?” Mrs. Saiki asked.

You pursed your lips as you looked at her pleading face. She was too sweet that it was basically impossible for you to say no to her.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you answered after a moment’s hesitation.

“That’s great,” she proclaimed as she smiled at you excitedly. “Kuu-chan, you should tag along,” she advised her youngest son. Kusuo didn’t say anything as he looked at his mom’s overjoyed expression. You hoped that he would have the courage to deny her request, just this one time.

Kusuo nodded once after shifting his gaze on your frame. You bit your lip, breaking eye contact with him again.

“Maybe I should go with them as well,” Kuusuke cut in.

The two women looked at each other, alarm written all over their faces. “You shouldn’t bother yourself with that,” Mrs. Saiki urged.

“No, this is nothing,” Kuusuke assured.

“Don’t you have work to do?” his mother mentioned, looking intently at him.

Kuusuke stared back at her in bewilderment for a quick second before his mouth popped open in realization. “That’s right, I have to do work. While I’m on vacation,” he laughed lightheartedly, “They’ll get the job done without me.”

The two women shared another glance, a wide beam on both their faces.

“Why do you guys keep looking at each other?” you wondered.

“That’s enough talking, both of you need to go,” your mother nervously giggled. She hastily pushed you out of the house with your ex-boyfriend, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Kusuo gazed at you expectantly when you peered at him, a silent pause falling between you two for a few seconds. You hurriedly turned away as you reluctantly led him to your car.

"What the hell is this?" you exclaimed, ogling the Elf on the Shelf figurine displayed on a table inside the store you occupied.

'Do they really want this?' Kusuo’s question rang in your mind as he held it up.

You shrugged lightly. “It’s clearly written in here," you uttered, pointing at the long list of items your mother texted to you. "Anyways, that's everything we need to buy. Let's get out of this place." You put your phone away, shoving your hands in your pockets.

A glimmer of white caught your attention from the corner of your eye as you searched for your wallet. Settled beside the spot where the elf doll used to be was a charming little snow globe. You picked it up, shaking its contents and observing the intricate design of the snowman and the floating snowflakes trapped in the glass.

"Remember that time when Kaidou and Nendou asked us to make a snowman with them?” you murmured.

'Don't remind me.'

“And you actually went with us even though you didn’t want to, because you thought something was gonna happen to them," you continued.

‘Better to be safe than sorry.’

"But they were actually just gonna put on an act," you snickered, "That was the dumbest thing I've ever heard." You smiled tenderly at the treasured memory as you put the globe down. A wave of nostalgia hit you at the thought of your high school days before your relationship went downhill. You looked away from Kusuo as you noticed the corners of his lips lifting the slightest bit.

Distractedly, you headed to the cash register to pay for the final item on your list.

'Oi.'

Kusuo grabbed your shoulder, pulling you to him. You barely had any time to react as a group of kids passed by you, yelling gleefully as they ran into the spot where you would have been had you not been yanked away.

'Watch where you're going,' Kusuo warned.

"Sorry," you mumbled, holding your breath anxiously. All at once, you were painfully aware of the arm that wrapped itself around you.

Kusuo dropped his hand from your shoulder, stepping back from you. A spark of electricity lingered from the loss of his touch.

The two of you stayed silent as you awkwardly turned away from him, paying for the little elf toy and exiting the store. You tried to stop thinking about his chest being pushed against you, mindful of the fact that he can read your mind.

Your mind wandered to anything that could distract you as you made it to the parking lot, unlocking your car with the push of a button. How you hated going Christmas shopping. How you hated that your mother was forcing you to go to her Christmas party. How your neighbours didn't even need more decorations. How Kusuo was so confusing sometimes. You stopped in your tracks.

Kusuo looked up at you curiously, waiting for you to speak your mind as you debated whether or not you should ask him what's been bothering you.

“The other day, what did you mean by, ‘that’s not the case’?” you demanded after a few seconds of deliberation.

He let out a soft snort. An eternity seemed to pass before he gave an answer, ‘You can’t possibly think that I ever stopped caring for you.’  His blank expression disappeared as his eyes burned into yours.

You gave him a disbelieving look as your shoulders tensed up. The words you’ve longed to hear for so long never felt so foreign, so incredulous. He clearly agreed with you when you thought it was best to end your relationship a year ago. So what was he doing sending you mixed signals now?

He let out a sigh. Kusuo left your side, taking his place on the passenger’s seat of your car. It took you a moment to come back to your senses as you robotically got on the driver's side, revving the engine to life.

You turned on the radio, hoping that the intrusion of noise would help to get rid of the tension between you two as a familiar tune by Wham blasted through your speakers. The station was set on playing holiday music, it seemed. The song you used to put on repeat last Christmas drowned out your thoughts.

[nixienotes]

Do you have aphantasia?

Aphantasia is the inability to visually see things in your “mind’s eye” meaning that when you close your eyes and try to picture things - nothing ever actually pops up. This is a recent term and it seems to be growing in popularity and study leading people like me to realize that my friends and family can actually see the things described when they try to. Now aphantasia is a spectrum, and your experience with visualization can vary depending on where you sit on it. It can range from black and white, muted colors, blurry images and more. I myself have a wonderful world of absolutely nothing waiting for me when I close my eyes and because of this I actually find it very hard to focus when they’re closed! It makes falling asleep hard to do, and dinner prayers and yoga classes a little awkward when I’m caught looking at the floor...

How does this effect spirituality and witchcraft?

Greatly, for me at least! So many practices start with the word visualize, and most divination techniques require to some degree the practice of receiving visual messages or cues that come from outside of our physical environment. While called “psychic” by many in the past I’ve always clarified it feels more intuitive and while I might not actually see anything, I sort of just know things like a truth. The way you know a strange face is your third cousin or coworker in a dream, purely because your brain has decided it to be so. On top of that, it seems a little unfair to me that many people have the ability to create mental sanctuaries or scenes in their minds to be used for both magical and mental health benefits while I’m left quite literally in the dark.

So what can we do?

I’m no expert on how our brains adjust to this deficit and to be honest I imagine it varies greatly from person to person. One thing I’ve recently been drawn to are ambience videos on YouTube. An accidental find likely due to both my search for background sounds and things to use during tabletop rpg games, as well as the search for nice ASMR videos to sleep to. I was suddenly bombarded with “cottagecore” “dark academia” and “royalty core” playlists and scenes as well as the beautifully composited or 3D rendered environments that are often set up with ambient lighting and animations. These videos have become a new kind of background noise for me to have control over my mental space and mood without having to rely on a brain function that simply doesn’t work for me.

I’ve also thought about the sort of posts we see here on tumblr: where you see witches making shrines, altars, and sanctuaries using video games like Minecraft, the Sims, and other creative sandboxes to have physical and visual places to practice.

If you’re creative in the arts I also urge you to try sketching out some moods and scenes that can be personal to you in your practice. Try collages and painting or working on perspective drawing to aid in landscapes and interiors so you can create dreamscapes of your own!

Here’s a wonderful playlist of some ambience videos that I quite enjoy (not created by me) in case you’d like to incorporate them into your practice or daily life. Now I’m excited for a lazy afternoon I can shape with these scenes to set a mood or vibe that can keep me focused on my work, and the immersion is a new sensation I’ve quite enjoyed and hope you will too!

[jokertrap-ran]

(时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) EVENT! 「书中童话：魔女的冒险」 Fairy-tale within the Book: The Adventures of the Witch Translations (Clarence’s Route)

人鱼眼泪: 人鱼研习课  (后日谈) — Mermaid Tears Chapter 5: Mermaid Study [After Story]

“If I were a real Merman, I'd also want to share half of my soul with you.”

*For All Time Master-list | Clarence’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut!

Clarence: …… 

MC: ……

After a long and hard silence, Clarence finally opened his mouth to speak.

Clarence: The World of a Fairy-tale?

MC: Yeah.

Clarence: The Little Mermaid?

MC: Mmhm...

MC: But hear me out, Clarence. This is just a dream and...

Clarence: I'm aware.

Clarence floated within the sea, seemingly unused to how his legs had turned into the tail of a fish. He looked serene, but his abdominal muscles were tense, as if he was trying his hardest to maintain his balance.

Clarence: But I can also sense that this isn't just an ordinary dream.

Clarence: There are many things that prove this. I can list them all out for you if you want.

MC: No need, no need… Actually, I'm also at a loss as to how this entire thing came to be. Maybe I need to investigate more, or perhaps I'll have to practice more?

I was a tad dismayed. Clarence's own consciousness entering this dreamscape world was something I'd certainly not expected.

Clarence: I'm not blaming you for dragging me into this dream. Besides, I'm probably bound to forget everything once I wake up...

He probably caught onto my inner turmoil, for he turned his azure blue eyes, that were so similar to the waters of the sea, to me, and changed the topic.

Clarence: But can I take this to mean that you also wanted to see me in your dreams?

▷Choice: Nod

I nodded.

Clarence gave a fleeting smile, reaching out a hand to very gently ruffle my hair.

▷Choice: How did you know?

MC: How did you know that?

Clarence: It might be because I've always wanted to see you in my dreams whenever I did dream. 

We both faced each other underwater, sharing a smile.

Clarence: I rarely dream, but every time I do, I'll always find myself walking in a vast, open space.

Clarence: In the wind and snow, the desert, and even an endless darkness, with it's silent, ever-orbiting stars. Those are the dreamscapes that I've always found myself… Enveloped in...

Clarence: If I hadn't met you here through sheer coincidence this time round, I'd have thought that I was just having those same dreams again.

My heart clenched a little at his words. Although he spoke with a level tone, I could still imagine just how lonely it must have been, traversing in those dreams, alone.

Clarence: I'm very happy to see that you're in my dreams this time.

Saying so, he reached out to me, and I took his hand without any hesitation whatsoever, gripping it tightly.

MC: Yup. I'll be staying right by you this time round.

He smiled at me, raising my hand and began to swim through the sea at a leisurely pace.

Clarence: Then, I should really treasure this dream now, shouldn't I? Plus, I can also observe the creatures of the sea up close...

He looked thoughtfully at the many thousand forms of underwater creatures that lived in the sea.

▷Choice: You're also a very rare underwater creature yourself now.

MC: You're also an extremely rare sea creature yourself right now; don't you intend on studying yourself?

Clarence: …You do kind of have a point.

▷Choice: Is that what you wish for?

MC: Living as a merman, and this is all you want to do?

Clarence looked at me, slightly taken aback.

Clarence: Do you have any better ideas?

MC: How about we take a good look at Mr. Merman Clarence here?

Clarence: ……

Clarence folded his arms as he stared at me in the azure blue waters of the sea; his fishy tail swished lightly, giving off an extremely beautiful lustre.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Clarence: This...

Clarence was touching his left shoulder, where hard "scales", similar to bone, grew. He frowned slightly at that.

Clarence: I've got no idea what this part is either. I don't really feel anything when I touch it. Maybe it's some kind of external bone or something.

MC: Then, what about here?

I reached out with the intention of touching his ear.

His mermaid form had sharp ears, just like Elves; and there were blue-grey spikes growing from the where his ear met his neck that seemed similar to external bones.

Clarence: Careful.

He captured my wandering hand, seemingly a tad afraid that I'd accidentally prick myself on them.

He hesitated for a while before leading my hand to touch the other places without spikes instead. It felt smooth to the touch, like jade that had a good texture. I gently touched it for a while before withdrawing my hand.

MC: Clarence...

Clarence: Yes?

MC: Your scales are turning...a little red.

I pointed to the translucent scales at his lower jaw, where there was only a small tint of color. A faint hue of red was starting to make itself known.

Clarence: You must be mistaken.

He didn't even blink, only turning slightly away from my inquiring gaze.

MC: Okay, sure; just my mistake then.

I looked at his perfectly schooled expression of calm seriousness, but still couldn't help my eyes from wandering downwards.

There, laid the long tail of a Mermaid; the most beautiful creation of the sea in it's entirety. It was slender and beautiful, a very beautiful turquoise-blue colour in the sea; One that will appear ultramarine when Clarence goes up to the surface and basks in the rays of the sun—— Ultra blue, the very epitome of blue hues.

I’d once learnt that ultramarine meant “beyond the sea”, back in one of the professional classes I attended.

Back then, I’d thought the meaning romantic enough to garner a single soft sigh of wonder, but never had I thought that I’d ever experience and feel the mystery and beauty of it, till now.

Clarence: What's on your mind?

MC: I was just thinking about…

Clarence: Only a for a bit 

MC: Okay!

I rejoiced but couldn't help becoming tentative and careful when it came to actually reaching out and touching him.

My fingers had only just touched that tail of his when I felt a ripple in the waves. He was tense, nervous, even… This might be due to the physiological habits of Mermaids. Patiently, I tried to stroke his scales in a downward motion slowly in an attempt to alleviate some of his tension; but I saw his tail curve in a manner seemingly out of his control, almost as if it wanted to hook onto something...

Clarence: …Okay, that's enough now.

His chest heaved heavily for a while before he held onto my hand, bringing me away from his tail.

Clarence: Today's Mermaid Study Session is over, dear student.

I shifted my gaze back up to his face, noticing how the scales located below his jawline seemed much redder now…

MC: Then, what are we to do now?

Clarence: This is one pretty long dream, it seems. Let's go look around some more.

Clarence lifted his head, staring at the vast expanse of the sea. I didn't know what went through this head, but his grip on my hand tightened once more.

Clarence: Becoming a Merman is… Very odd, I must say. But, I'll also admit that this is an exceptionally beautiful dream.

Clarence: I did read the fairy-tale of "The Little Mermaid" back when I was a child; but I never thought that I'd really be able to witness such a beautiful scene, just like how it's depicted in the story, with my own two eyes.

Tugging me along by my hand, he swam towards the vast sea.

His movements had become smoother and much more natural than before, his tail parted the waters, attracting schools of brilliantly coloured fish who trailed along behind him.

The Beluga Whale we had previously rode on swam over, kissing his short, slightly curled hair.

Clarence suddenly turned to face me.

Underwater, where light and shadows wavered, his hair and eyes were both blue, his Mermaid tail, blue; even the translucent-looking skeletal features he had attached onto his arm, similar to that of deep-sea creatures, were blue…

Clarence: I won't judge the Little Mermaid's love. But (Y/n), if I were a real Merman, I'd also want to share half of my soul with you.

He was blue.

───⋅𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊…⋆⋅☆

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥The Adventures of the Witch✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Previous Part: (Clarence Chapter 4) | Next Part: (Epilogue)

[free-boundsoul]

His moms are super duper nice. I would bet anything that they’ll come to a few of the home games, even though they live so far away. You could bake any one of those brownie varieties you mentioned. Besides, I can’t imagine you making a bad impression. You’re always so friendly, Freelancer. You clearly can handle dealing with any type of person. After all, most people have one conversation with me and run. You not only lasted for the whole conversation. You chose to have another one. And more after that!

That’s what I’m saying! Exactly. You get it Freelancer. I don’t think know more than fire-based magic means that I am somehow renouncing my identity as a fire-elemental. Of course I love using my fire most. But, as much as I hate to admit it, there are times when fire doesn’t help the situation. I hope it’s not because I’d be fighting another elemental, though there is a certain water elemental I’d gladly like to burn to a crisp…

Oh, that’s understandable. Definitely leave him at home then. Gavin feeds your cat enough treats to be the favorite. Cheater.

Thanks! That sounds really meaningful, Freelancer. Thank you. Oh, wow, and you’re sketching it right now for me to see? That’s such an incredible talent. Although, you’ve really got to watch your posture when you draw. Geez, Freelancer. Either that or you better draw yourself a back-brace! It’s not that I don’t want you to draw. I love seeing you create art. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself when you do it. I don’t know about that. People can probably tell I’m a fire-elemental from my aura. Besides, as soon as I open my mouth, they were probably realize it. Freelancers have a less-specific aura, but it’s still detectable as a Freelancer. Kind of like process of elimination.

A sadism demon? But they are so rare. And I’ve never heard of one being seen by humans, much less being threatened by one. That sounds so scary, Freelancer. I’m just glad you’re okay now. I think there’s a ward to help with dreaming and sleeping. Let me check my text from a dreamwalking/dreamscape class I audited last year. Do you think that might help?

Well, to be fair, I’m not sure if the line itself was the problem or the fact that I was the one speaking it. Well, there’s no reason to be uncomfortable if you don’t have to be. Making you feel better could never be bother to me, Freelancer. Never. I promise you that. Here, give me your hands for a minute. That better?

Oh that’s way too much to make at once. Baker’s choice. You make whatever it is you want. And… whatever calls for the ingredients we have in the house. I heard there’s a storm coming tomorrow, so I don’t think we’ll want to go to the grocery store to pick up anything unless we absolutely need it.

Yeah! Anything that he remembers can be shared like that. Memory retention is a skill that you can practice. It’s related to memory-modification, but not exactly the same thing. The emotions have a more difficult time being shared between two people. It’s possible, but I think it takes more energy, especially if you’re not a telepath with a gift for that type of magic. It’s hard because we all experience emotions differently, so there’s a lot of translation that it has to go through. I think that’s why teachers don’t exactly rely on telepathic stuff to teach, but I imagine that it could help supplement lessons, maybe in a one-on-one tutoring session or something. Could you imagine the energy it would take to connect a five hundred person lecture hall like that? I’d be wiped after ten minutes!

You’re bad enough, Freelancer! Don’t you dare hide any of these delicious eclairs!

-Damien

I'll have to make sure with Hux that they don't have any allergies. That's really sweet of you to say Damien, but I think you're forgetting how awkward I was when we first met. I'm surprised you kept talking to me. Which will only lead to your downfall cuz now you're stuck with me.

I always thought it was admirable that you're going for full certification as a fire elemental, since most elementals seem to just focus on their element. Though, it is absolutely dazzling getting to watch you in your element, especially your performance at the games this year. And you'll have to meet Eren the next time you come over. I bet he'll be glued to you. He loves stretching out on warm spots.

.... It's not that bad, I don't hurt when I draw...just when I straighten up after spending hours in the same position. And you'd think a back brace would be a good idea, except when I wore one, I ended up fighting against it and doing more damage. But het, if you ever have back problems, let me know. I got good at back massages since my grandpa has a bad back. I bet I can get your back to pop like a glowstick. Gavin seems to enjoy it at least.

And I don't know if they realize it when you open your mouth. It'd be pretty stupid to assume someone's race by their personality or how they talk. I bet there are fiery earth elementals, or somber air elementals. You're a pretty cool fire elemental, once you get to know you.

That'd be super helpful, thank you, Damien! I don't think we have to worry about him anymore but it's better to be prepared. Gavin is teaching me some defensive magic to break free from paralysis too, so even if I do get caught, I can hopefully get free.

Oh, um, yeah, that's a lot better, thank you Damien! Your hands are always so pleasantly warm. I guess we should go take a look at what your parents have to see what I can make. Though, I'm leaning toward the red velvet cheesecake brownies. I think your mom and dad would like those. Should we take a run to the store tonight before the storm comes? That way we can pick up anything else we'll need too.

Oh wow that's so cool! And that makes sense, emotions are pretty volatile. Can you do memory retention? That would make a useful study tool. Kind of like photographic memory? And yeah, I didn't think of the energy needed to connect to such a large audience, haha. I don't think I'd want to hear five hundred voices in my head, either.

Oh, think you can stop me? I could just lift them out of your reach if it came down to it.

[dirtykpopsnaps]

See You in the Dreamscape - Park Jimin (soulmate au)

Warnings: None

Contains: Cute soulmates!Jimin and Y/N meeting. Appearances from Johnny, Mark, and Lucas

Requested: no

Words: 6, 008 (this is really short compared to my others, but I couldn’t think of how to make it longer...😬😬)

———————————————————————

All around me, I hear soft music. I don’t recognize the song. It’s just...music. Peeling my eyes open, I blink around at my bright surroundings. It’s a warm day. Trees are blowing in a soft breeze. The grass that I’m laying on tickles. Calmly, I stand to my feet and start looking around. He should be here somewhere. I walk passed deserted benches and littles tables. No children are playing on the playground that I can see in the distance, but that doesn’t bother me. This is a place just for me and him. I search around some more, but I can’t seem to find him.

Standing tall, I cup my hands around my mouth. ���Jimin?” I call out loudly, listening for his response afterward. Nothing comes. “Jimin?” I call out again, looking in all directions.

“Over here!” I hear a soft response call. I turn towards the direction the voice came from and smile widely, running toward it. When I finally find him, I shake my head, knowing I should have checked there first. Jimin is dancing fluidly in the middle of the open field of grace. The music is a little louder here, so he’s along following it. When I appear at the edge of the field, he stops dancing and smiles at me.

Without hesitation, I run into the field and pull him into a large hug. “Ugh, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. I thought you forgot about me!” I whine, pouting up at him. Jimin laughs lightly, shaking his head.

“No, no, I’ve just been very busy. The changing time zones have made me sleep at weird hours,” he explains. I roll my eyes at that explanation.

“Like our hours aren’t weird already,” I joke. He nods his head in agreement.

“I’d say it’s a good thing that you sleep in late. Gives us more time to talk,” he smiles. I sigh softly, leaning into the warmth of his body and enjoying it.

Finally, Jimin and I pull out of the hug. He both sit down on the ground and just start to talk. There’s never any true topics that we talk about, just anything on our minds. We tell each other about what’s been happening in our lives. There are a few things that our attachment won’t let us say, mostly because we think the attachment doesn’t want it to be “too easy”. So, I don’t know his last name. I don’t know where he lives. I don’t know his exact job. All I know is that his time zone is *much* different than mine and he has a job that makes him travel a lot. However, that doesn’t bother me. We’re able to talk about most things and I’m just glad to hear about everything he does.

After a couple hours of talking, I sigh softly. “I think it’s time that I should get up,” I mutter, frowning to myself. Jimin smiles sadly.

“I think so, too. But, don’t worry. We’ll be able to see each other soon enough,” he reassures me. I nod my head and we stand up, pulling each other into another big hug. Jimin softly kisses my forehead. “Until next time, my love,” he mutters. Those are the last words that I hear Jimin say for the night. The next second, my eyes pop open in my bedroom. I turn over to look at the clock on my nightstand and sigh at the flashing numbers, 10:15.

Sighing to myself, I climb out of bed and pull my phone off of the charger. I immediately open up the text thread with my best friend, Johnny, and message him.

To Johnny👦🏻🎤: I dreamed about him again.

I know that Johnny will most likely be asleep, since he currently lives in Korea, so I don’t expect an answer anytime soon. I set my phone aside and decide to start on my day.

Yawning loudly, I walk out of my room and downstairs. No one is in the kitchen, so I decide to take make some toast. I put the bread in the toast and grab the butter out of the fridge, waiting for the bread to pop back out. When it doesn’t I quickly butter the hot bread and allow it to melt. I set the plate on the table, then grab a water bottle out of the fridge again. Calmly, I sit down and have the few pieces of toast for breakfast. It’s not an amazing breakfast, but it’s something.

As I eat, I rest my head in my hand and sigh softly. I really wish I could spend more time with Jimin. I usually only have a few hours a night to speak to him, since our time zones are so different. However, I’m never sure when those hours will be. Sometimes we have a little longer to talk, if he’s in a place closer to my time zone. A few times, he’s even been in America and we’ve only been a couple hours apart! That was the best time. We talked for hours about anything’s because everything before I had to wake up.

Honestly, I’m not sure if you’ve realized what my attachment is yet. My attachment with Jimin is a dreamscape attachment. That means that I can only see him in my dreams. What makes it even more frustrating is that, no matter how many times I’ve seen him, I can’t describe him well enough for other people to know what he looks like. I know that I’ll recognize him when I finally *do* meet him, but I can’t describe him to anyone else. Truthfully, I’m not sure anyone else would care. My attachment isn’t a hugely rare one, but I only realized what it was when I was 13 and we had a class on attachments. I’ve been seeing Jimin for as long as I can remember, but when I was little, my parents and friends thought he was just an imaginary friend. They thought I would grow out of him, but I never did. As I got older and I kept talking about him, less and less people wanted to listen. My mother once even called me ‘childish’ for still having an imaginary friend. When I finally did realize what my attachment was and I told her that Jimin wasn’t an imaginary friend, she scoffed and said I just imagined the attachment to make myself feel better for keeping him around. That’s about the time I stopped talking about Jimin. The only person who has believed me all this time is Johnny. He’s the only person I still talk to about Jimin.

Most of my day is fairly uneventful. It’s a weekend, so I don’t have work and summer is coming up soon, anyway. I work as a middle school teacher, so the summer’s are a time for me to relax a little bit. As summer slowly draws nearer, I find myself getting more and more anxious for the break. I usually reuse lesson plans for each year, so there’s not much that I will need to do with that. I may look over them once or twice to make adjustments, but that’s about it. For most of the day, I simply lounge around, reading happily. However, around five o’clock, my phone rings.

Knitting my eyebrows together, I pick up my phone. I take one look at the contact and immediately answer the FaceTime, smiling widely. When it connects, I cheer happily at the face of my best friend. “Johnny!” I say. He laughs lightly, smiling back at me.

“Y/N! Nice to see you again,” he says cheerfully. For a while, Johnny and I talk about simple things. He hasn’t had much time to talk lately, so it’s been a few weeks since we last spoke over the phone other than our usual texts. After about 15 minutes, Johnny brings up a topic that I thought might come up. “So, you had another dream about Jimin?” He asks. I nod my head lightly, starting to tell him about the dream.

“It was our normal place, the deserted park. I couldn’t find him for a second, so I started calling his name, but I eventually found him. He was dancing in the open field. When I found him, he pulled me into a hug and we just talked about how things are going,” I shrug, thinking back on my dream this morning.

As I said before, Johnny is the only person that I still talk about Jimin with. Johnny used to live on my street when I was younger, so we got really close, even though there’s about 3 years between us. He was one of my closest friends growing up and, when he moved to Korea after high school, I was so upset. The summers without him around were always really hard and then he was moving to Korea for good, and I almost didn’t want believe it. Thankfully, we stayed in touch and talked as often as possible. Since he moved there, I’ve even visited a couple times.

On the FaceTime, Johnny messes with his hair for a second before focusing back on me. “You have summer break soon, right? Why don’t you come visit? I really miss you. Plus, we can talk about Jimin a little more. Try and figure it out,” he suggests. I nod my head slightly.

“I could probably try and swing a visit. It would be nice to see you again. And, we can talk about Jimin, but we can also talk about him over the phone,” I remind him. Johnny nods his head lightly, but bites his lip.

“It’s just...I think I might have an idea about Jimin,” he tells me. I sigh softly and nod my head.

“Alright, alright. I’ll get some tickets and come visit for a while over the summer. Then, you can tell me about your idea about Jimin,” I say.

Suddenly, I hear some talking on Johnny’s end. He looks away from the phone and has a short conversation in Korean with someone. When he comes back to the phone, he pouts at me. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I need to start practicing soon,” he sighs. I give him a sad smile and nod my head.

“I understand, John. Go work. We can talk later,” I tell him. He nods his head and blows me a kiss before saying goodbye and ending the call.

—————————

The last month before summer is a busy one. I’m finishing up lessons with my students while also planning for this trip to Korea. I was able to get some cheap tickets on an airplane, so I called Johnny and told him that the plan was set. He was very excited that I’m able to come visit. A few days before my plane, school finishes and I’m able to spend the time packing up everything that I’ll need. I’m going to be spending a couple weeks in Korea, so I pack accordingly. When I finally have everything packed away, I set my bags on the wall of my bedroom and spend the last few days lounging around again.

The morning of my flight comes quickly and I wake up early to get on my plane. I keep some books and a small pillow packed in my carry on because, after a few visits to Korea, I know that sleeping on the plane is the best idea. I’m able to make my way through airport security without much problem and finally arrive at my terminal. Then, I wait for about an hour before everyone starts being called to board the plane. I join the growing line and get onto the plan without a problem.

The flight to Korea is also pretty uneventful. This flight, surprisingly, has no layovers, so I’m going straight from Chicago to Korea...a 14 hour flight. I settle into my seat and watch as the plane takes off. However, once the plane is in the air, I plug in my earbuds, turn on some soft music, and clock out. As I said, I know I’ll need to sleep on the plane. There’s a 15 hour time zone difference between Chicago and Seoul, so jet lag is the absolute worst. I could lose a whole day solely to jet lag. After my first visit, I realized that it was better to sleep on the plan than you be exhausted the whole first day that I’m in Korea.

Thankfully, I wake up about an hour before the plane is supposed to land. I let my music play as I look out the window, watching as the ground below moves passed. The hour flus by and, as soon as I plane hits the ground, I turn off airplane mode and text Johnny.

To Johnny👦🏻🎤: Plane just landed, John. Hope you’re here

Seconds later, I get his response.

From Johnny👦🏻🎤: Yes, I’m here, you little shit. I also brought some friends who insisted on welcoming you.

I knit my eyebrows together at the mention of friends, but shrug it off soon after. It’s most likely just some of the members from NCT. After my first visit, a few of them took a liking to me and have become part of my close circle of friends.

When the plane finally stops and everyone begins getting off, I stand up and grab my carry on out of the baggage compartment. I put my phone into my back pocket and wait in the line as everyone starts to leave. When I get into the airport, I slowly start making my way through and find the baggage claim. Near the baggage claim, I can see the doors of the airport. I grab my baggage and start heading that way, looking around for Johnny or anyone that I recognize. “Over here, Y/N!” Someone calls. I turn my head in their direction and instantly break into a smile. Johnny is standing by the doors to the airport. With him, I can just make out the forms of Mark and Lucas.

Without even hesitating, I run over to them and pull them into big hugs. “So, I’m guessing you two are the ones who insisted on welcoming me?” I giggle. Lucas and Mark both smile widely, opening their arms.

“Surprise!” They exclaim loudly. I giggle, shaking my head at the two of them. I glance at Johnny’s bad he just sighs, watching them.

“It’s a good thing they’re adorable,” he sighs, shaking his head at them.

For the most part, the beginning of the trip is filled with catching up Mark and Lucas. Both of them are part of the “close circle of friends” I mentioned earlier, but they’re just as busy as Johnny. I keep in touch with them as much as possible, but it’s still hard to talk to them at times. Lucas tells me all about what’s going on with WayV and the new music they’re coming up with. “I’m pretty excited for this comeback, honestly. It’s going to be very fun,” he says excitedly, bouncing like a small puppy. I giggle happily, watching him bounce up and down.

After a while, there’s a short lull in the conversation. I take a deep breath and decide to say what I’ve been thinking about for a while. “So, Johnny...you said you had an idea about who Jimin might be?” I ask softly. Both Mark and Lucas look between us in confusion. Neither one of them have ever heard me talk about my attachment or Jimin. Johnny chuckles lightly, looking into the rear-view mirror to meet my eye.

“You’re a persistent little one, aren’t you?” He chuckles. (I had been asking about his ‘idea’ ever since he brought it up a month ago). I flash him my signature ‘you-love-me’ smile.

“I am, but you knew that already,” I say. Johnny just rolls his eyes, looking back at the road.

“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you the idea. I’m not certain if you’ve looked into it already, but it’s just something that I thought about.

Y/N...are you sure that ‘Jimin’ isn’t Park Jimin from BTS?” He asks.

For a few seconds, I think. Although I do like kpop, I really only follow NCT and their subunits. I’ve never much looked into BTS and, although I recognize the members names, I don’t listen to them or actively seek them out. I shrug lightly and look at the back of Johnny’s head. “I suppose it could be him,” I shrug. Mark and Lucas still look highly confused, so I take a moment to explain my attachment.

“So...you see this person in your dreams?” Mark questions. I nod my head lightly.

“Almost every night,” I sigh.

“Could you describe him?” Lucas asks curiously. I groan, putting my head into my hands.

“That’s the problem, it’s almost like I can’t! I just...I don’t know. I figure I’ll recognize him when I see him, but trying to describe him to anyone else just doesn’t work,” I exclaim.

“Well, here,” Mark says calmly.

Immediately, he picks up his phone and starts searching around. He types something in, then scrolls for a few seconds before flipping his phone and showing me a picture. “This is Jimin from BTS,” he says plainly. Sighing, I take his phone and look at the picture.

Looking at the picture, my breath catches in my throat and I’m thrown into a huge coughing fit. Lucas leans over and delivers firm pats to my back, trying to help me. When I’m finally able to breath again, I stare around the car. “That’s...That’s Jimin!” I say in shock, looking down at the picture again and trying to make sure that it really is him. Mark’s eyes become wide and he stares at him in shock.

“Are you sure?!” He asks, taking his phone back. I nod my head vigorously, looking around at all of them.

“Yes, Mark! I’ve been seeing this guy for almost 23 years, this is him!” I say, pointing towards the picture still displayed on his phone.

Quickly, Mark and Johnny share a look before Mark looks back at me again. “...We need to get her to the BigHit building,” they say in unison. Almost immediately, Johnny changes lanes and starts going in a completely different direction than we had just been traveling.

“Where are we going?!” I ask in shock. Johnny looks at me in the rear-view mirror again.

“We just said, we’re taking you to BigHit,” he says, speeding up. His eyes flash towards the clock in the car and he sighs softly, muttering to himself.

Before long, we’re in front of a large building. “Get out, I’ll park,” he says plainly. Immediately, Mark, Lucas, and I all climb out of the car. As soon as we’re on the sidewalk, Johnny drives off to park. Mark and Lucas take one of my hands in each of their’s. I take a deep, steady breath and then they push open the doors.

The lobby of the building is much like I had expected. It’s pretty similar to the SM building, so it’s not a big surprise. There is a large desk with a secretary sitting behind it, computers positioned in front of her. A little bit in front of the elevators, a few large men dressed in all black and standing guard. Without hesitation, Mark and Lucas lead me towards the secretary at her desk. As soon as we stand in front her, she looks up and smiles sweetly. “Names?” He asks.

“Mark Lee, Lucas Wong, and Y/N Y/L/N,” he says quickly.

“And to what do we owe the pleasure?” She asks.

“Um...an emergency. We really need to see BTS, specifically Jimin,” Mark explains. The woman’s smile vanished quickly and she just stares at us.

“I’m sorry, but there aren’t any appointments for Mr. Park today,” she says, looking through the list on her computer.

“No, no, we don’t have an appointment. We just really need to see him. It’s important,” Mark says, his voice becoming a little more strained. The woman looks at us, raising her eyebrow and Lucas decides to try.

“I’m sorry. It’s just...we’re pretty sure our friend is Jimin’s soulmate,” Lucas tells her, gesturing to me. I wave nervously, but the woman just stares at me, her face still completely blank.

Finally, after several seconds, she looks back at Lucas. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wong, but do you know how many times I hear that excuse?” She says. Lucas’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline in surprise.

“But, we’re serious! They share the same attachment and her soulmate’s name is Jimin!” He says. The secretary still seems unconvinced.

“I’m sorry, but Jimin is a very popular name and Mr. Park’s attachment is well known. Not to mention, dreamscape attachments aren’t particularly rare. I’m sorry, but you won’t be allowed to see Mr. Park today,” she says plainly, shutting us down.

Biting their lip anxiously, Mark and Lucas lead me away from the secretary’s desk. “What are we going to do?!” I whisper nervously.

“I...I don’t know!” Mark whispers back, looking around for anything that could help us. After a few seconds, something seems to pop into his mind. “Wait, Jaehyun!” He gasps, immediately grabbing out his phone. I stare at him in shock.

“I’m sorry, Mark, but have you lost your marbles? What does Jaehyun have to do with Jimin?” I ask. Mark huffs at me and rolls his eyes.

“Jaehyun is a part of the ‘97 line group chat with Jungkook,” Mark explains, quickly typing out a message on his phone. Seconds later, his phone dings in response and Mark quickly checks it. “Yes!” He whispers, pumping his fist in the air. Off his phone, I can just read the message from Jaehyun.

From Jae✨: I’ll see what I can do. Jungkook might be busy.

Anxiously, Mark, Lucas, and I wait in the lobby of the BigHit building. When Johnny comes to join us again, we explain the situation to him. Johnny pats Mark on the back. “Good idea asking Jae,” he says calmly. The three boys take seats against the wall and wait to see if Jaehyun and Jungkook will come through. However, although I want to me as calm as possible, I can’t seem to sit still. I start pacing the length of the lobby, biting my lip and fidgeting with my hands. The secretary keeps giving me dirty looks, but she doesn’t seem to be able to actually do anything. The security guards don’t move from their post, but their eyes follow me as I walk back and forth.

After what feels like an eternity but can’t be more than maybe half an hour, I hear the elevator start humming loudly as it works. I stop pacing back and forth and my heart jumps into my throat. Slowly, the elevator makes its way down to wherever it’s going. The secretary eyes me beadily, obviously ready to call the guards into action if I try anything. When the elevator finally stops humming, the doors slide open and both Jungkook and Jimin rush out in a hurry. Although they’ve just been standing in the elevator for a couple minutes, they’re both still panting like they’ve run a mile. Jimin’s eyes search the lobby for a few seconds before they finally land on me.

For a few seconds, we both just stare at each other in surprise. Then, he pushes passed the guards and comes running over to me, pulling me into a big hug. I shout in surprise as I’m lifted off the ground, but Jimin just laughs loudly and I finally respond, hugging him back. “Oh, my God, it’s you! It’s actually you!” He exclaims, rocking back and forth on his feet. I giggle loudly, rocking with him.

“Yes, it’s me, Jimin. I’m here,” I giggle. He pulls back from the hug and holds my shoulders, his eyes flitting around all over my face.

“Oh, you’re just as beautiful as in the dreams. I’m so lucky!” He exclaims, pulling me back into the hug. I giggle in shock at the compliment, my face burning red and I just hug him back.

When he finally pulls back again, he takes my hand into his without hesitation and bursts into a story. “I’m so sorry it took so long! We were practicing and Jungkook was only just able to respond a few minutes ago. So, he read the message and immediately grabbed me. He had to explain on the way to the elevators I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” he gasps. This is all said very quickly and in one breath and I stare at him in shock.

“Jimin, Jimin, breath, it’s okay!” I giggle loudly, trying to get him to breath with me and calm him down.

“No, no, it’s not okay! My soulmate has been standing in the lobby for 30 minutes and I just...but, you’re here! And...I’m here! And you’re my soulmate!” He says excitedly, pulling me into another big hug. I laugh again, rubbing my hands up and down his back. Over his shoulder, I can see Jungkook laughing silently and watching our encounter. When he sees me looking, he waves happily, a huge smile on his face.

When Jimin pulls back again, he finally seems to realize that there are other people with me. “Wait, Johnny? Mark? Lucas?” He asks in confusion, looking between the three of them. They wave slightly, smiling softly.

“Sorry for randomly showing up. We’re kinda the reason Y/N is in Korea,” Johnny explains. Jimin’s raises an eyebrow at him, then looks back at me.

“Yeah, I um...I live in Chicago,” I say, biting my lip.

“Well...that would explain the large time zone gap,” Jimin chuckles lightly. I giggle lightly and nod my head.

“But, yeah, we were driving her back to our dorms when Johnny brought up the idea that her ‘Jimin’ might be you. Then we just turned around and headed here,” Mark adds. Jimin nods his head lightly again.

“Well, I’m sorry, but...do you mind if I take Y/N?” Jimin asks sweetly. Johnny shakes his head, brushing off the question.

“So long as she’s safe tonight, either at your dorms or our’s, we’re good,” Johnny smiles. Jimin smiles brightly and thanks the boys, taking my hand in his again.

Just as we’re about to leave, Jimin seems to remember something. Without hesitation, he walks over to the secretary desk and looks down at the secretary. She’s shrunken back into her chair and her eyes are wide and scared. Jimin squeezes my hand lightly before addressing her. “If you see this girl again...please don’t bar her from seeing me,” he says. The woman quickly nods her head, adding my name to the bottom of a list of names.

“Absolutely, Mr. Park! If she comes again, I will direct to your whereabouts,” she says quickly. Jimin nods his head once then leads me back towards the elevators. He leads me between the security guards and hits the button for the elevator. Jungkook joins us in waiting for the elevator. Jungkook sighs, checking his phone again.

“We should probably get back. Namjoon hyung keeps texting me asking where we are,” he says.

“Tell him we’ll be there in a couple minutes,” Jimin says. Jungkook nods his head and quickly types out the message.

The elevator finally shows up at three of us walk inside. Jimin presses a button on the wall and the doors close before it starts humming and traveling up. Calmly, Jungkook smiles at me and holds out his hand. “Nice you meet you, Y/N. We’ve heard a lot about you,” he smiles.

“You have?” I ask in confusion. Jungkook leans around to look at Jimin and smiles. Jimin is refusing to meet his eye, suddenly very interested in the elevator buttons.

“Oh, yes. Jimin doesn’t stop talking about you,” Jungkook chuckles. I giggle and look up at Jimin, quickly noticing that a bright blush has spread over his sweet, chubby cheeks.

“Aww, that’s cute. And, don’t worry. I talked to Johnny about you a lot, too,” I smile.

The ride in the elevator is fairly short and, soon enough, I’m being lead down a long hallway. The hall is lined with several practice rooms, most of them empty. At the end of the hall, a bright light shines from inside the large practice. Jimin and Jungkook immediately open the door and walk inside. Jimin leads me to the far wall and sighs. “I’m sorry you have to sit through practice,” he says sadly. I smile at him, cupping his cheek lightly.

“Jimin...I’ve sat through several of NCT 127’s practice sessions, it’s okay,” I reassure him. He flashes me a soft smile before getting up and walking back towards his group mates.

As soon as they join again, Namjoon crosses his arms. He looks between Jungkook and Jimin. “What was that? Where were you? And, who is she?” He asks, looking towards me. Jungkook speaks up first.

“Sorry, hyung. I got a message from Jaehyun that Jimin’s soulmate was down in the lobby, so I had to pull him out,” Jungkook explains. Namjoon raises his eyebrows in surprise, looking over at me again, then he looks to Jimin.

“Your soulmate? That’s Y/N?” He asks curiously. Jimin nods his head dutifully, finally relaxing a little bit.

“That’s her. She cane to Korea to visit with NCT. She said she’s close to Johnny. So, they realized I was her soulmate and drove her here, but the secretary wouldn’t let them up,” Jimin continues. Namjoon makes a silent ‘ah’ noise and shoots a soft smile in my direction.

“Alright, that explains it. Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says charmingly.

Quickly, Namjoon turns around and walk to the front of the room. He taps a button on a stereo and, seconds later, the room is filled with loud music. I figure that this is a song from their album, but I’m not completely sure since I don’t listen to their music often. Thinking to myself, I smile softly and remind myself that I’ll need to start listening to their music now. I hum along with the music softly, trying to be as quiet as possible. For the most part, I simply enjoy being able to sit back and listen in on one of BTS’s practice session. There are girls and boys all over the world that would kill for this chance. I settle myself against the wall and just watch and listen as they members go through several songs in a row.

After about 45 minutes, Namjoon calls for a short break and everyone stops dancing. The music stops and they all grab water bottles, wandering around. Almost immediately, all of the members gather around me. Jimin sits close to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Why didn’t you ever say she was so pretty?” Tae asks, smirking at Jimin. Jimin frowns, narrowing his eyes at Tae and pulling my closer into his side. Namjoon hits Tae’s shoulder lightly.

“Don’t provoke him,” Namjoon scolds. Tae just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was just asking,” he mutters, pouting.

“You know very well that he tried to describe her to us, he just couldn’t,” J-Hope joins in. At this statement, I blink a few times and look at him.

“You couldn’t describe me?” I ask. Jimin shakes his head.

“No. It’s almost like, whenever I tried, I couldn’t find the right words,” he explains.

“I couldn’t describe you either, and I know exactly what you’re talking about,” I smile, leaning into his side.

Calmly, the boys start asking me random questions. They ask me about where I’m from and what I do, as well as things like what foods I like and dislike. I answer all their questions calmly, rubbing my thumb over the back of Jimin’s hand. Practice continues on, but during their breaks, the boys all gather around me and ask questions. Jimin already knows most of this information, so he mostly stays quiet and just comfortably rubs his hands up and down my sides. Honestly, it’s really nice to be close to Jimin and I feel very comforted just being in his presence.

After several hours, Namjoon calls an end to the practice and everyone starts packing their bags up. Jimin helps me to my feet and takes my hand in his, entwining our fingers. “Do you wanna come back to the dorms with us? We could just hang out and cuddle,” he suggests. I nod my head lightly, and lean into his side.

“You better shower after practice, though,” I tell him. Jimin just chuckles and nods his head.

“Absolutely not. You must deal with my sweat and smell as we cuddle,” he jokes. I giggle lightly and scrunch my nose up at him.

“Then I’m not cuddling with you,” I joke. He immediately pouts at me sadly, pushing out his bottom lip. I feel horrible as soon as he starts giving that look. “Jimin, just shower! I will cuddle with you after you shower,” I tell him. He smiles softly and gives me a side hug, leading me down the hall.

Calmly, all of the boys head down the long hall and over to the elevator. We wait for the elevator to come up and then they press the button that goes down to the basement. In the basement, there is another long hallway and then a door that leads out to the back of the building. At the back, several large black vans are parked. In the driver’s seat of the first van, a single man is waiting for us. Hobi opens the door and the seven climb inside. Everyone gets seated before the man looks back to make sure that we’re all settled and drives off. Buildings pass by the window quickly as we drive farther and farther away from the BigHit building.

When we finally arrive at the BTS dorm, everyone quickly climbs out of the van and heads up to the door. Namjoon unlocks the door quickly and we all head inside. Everyone goes in their different directions, most heading towards the bathrooms. Jimin kisses my forehead and leads me into the living room. “You stay here. I’ll take a shower and then we can cuddle and maybe watch a movie,” he suggest. I nod my head lightly and plop down on the couch. Jimin kisses my head lightly, then heads back to the bathroom to shower.

Calmly, I climb off the couch and crawl over to see what sort of DVDs the group has. I smile softly, picking a movie out of the mix. I crawl back to the couch and set the DVD down on the cushion next to me. As some time passes, more of the members join me in the living room. Hobi sits down directly in front me and strikes up a conversation again until Jimin comes in and cuddles up next to me. He picks up the DVD case, looking at it curiously. “Rocketman?” He asks, looking up. I nod my head and nod towards the case.

“It was in your DVD case. It’s a movie about Elton John,” I say. Jimin nods his head lightly, turning on the tv and popping the DVD in.

It takes a few seconds for the tv to read the DVD, but it eventually starts playing little ads and the intro for the movie studios that helped make the movie. When it gets to the movie menu, Jungkook clicks the ‘play movie’ option and we all settle in to watch together. I snuggle close to Jimin, watching the movie happily. However, over time, my eyes slowly start to fall shut. Jimin chuckles lightly, pulling his fingers through my hair. “Go ahead and sleep, sweetheart. We had a big day today. We’ll tell Johnny that you’re here,” he hums, kissing my hair. I sigh softly and nod, cuddling into him and falling to sleep.

[fallinnflower]

lucky one(s)

jackson x reader (soulmate!au)

a/n: omg what’s this? me finally filling a request?

Your soulmate’s name is Jackson. 

He speaks at least five languages fluently, has a body you thought could only exist in magazines, and is simultaneously the most and least intimidating person you’ve ever known. 

You’ve only met him in your dreams, but that’s how everybody does. 

Most people start dreaming of their soulmate around the time puberty hits. Early dreams tend to get interrupted fairly often, usually cutting soulmate meetings short — over time they find some regularity, but that could mean months or years of faulty connections. Some people like to construe that the quickness with which a bond stabilizes serves as a forewarning to the stability of the relationship in the long run. If that’s true, and you’re not sure you believe it is, then you and Jackson must have one of the most stable soulmate bonds in the world. 

Jackson is a stable person, to be sure — he’s been your rock since you met, always ready to provide whatever you need the moment you enter your shared dreamscape — but as for yourself, you’re less sure. 

The thing about Jackson is that he’s so wonderful you can’t imagine him being anything but a dream. 

You and Jackson don’t live in the same place. 

The bond doesn’t keep you from sharing personal information, perhaps because human inhibition is enough to keep most people from blurting out a street address and most pre-teens can’t just buy a plane ticket to their soulmate. If anything the bond being the way it is pushes the meeting date further out for most people, as it’s so convenient. 

You and Jackson have always spoken about meeting, the abstract when forever a topic of conversation. He’s ambitious, hyperactive and optimistic while never overstepping your boundaries, but it’s his patience that always makes you feel the most guilty. Jackson is the ever-present Sun at the center of your universe, waiting for you to orbit close enough to him to satiate his thirst for more. 

He’s eager as ever tonight when you approach him, practically vibrating in his seat. 

“So?” He asks, dark eyes blown wide in anticipation. You bite down in your lip to try and keep yourself from giving away the news so soon — you have to admit it’s a little fun to keep Jackson in suspense at times like these. 

“Well...” you start, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater as though you’re nervous. Jackson leans off his chosen seat towards you, craning his neck, and you can’t hold your smile back any longer. 

“I got in! I’ll be going to Korea next semester—” Before you can continue, your breath is knocked out of you by the force that is Jackson, sweeping you off your feet and into his arms. 

“I knew it!” He says, spinning you excitedly. You think he’s even more pumped than you were when you read the email mere hours ago. He sets you down but his hands stay on you, reaching up to cup your face in his hands. His dark eyes are curved like his smile, and for a moment as his thumbs brush gently along your cheekbones you think he just might kiss you—

Instead, he draws you into his arms again, clutching tightly at you. 

“I knew you could do it. They’d be stupid not to accept you.” You giggle against his chest, nuzzling your face into his shirt. 

“Thanks.” You allow yourself to bask in his presence, memorizing as you do almost every night his scent and the shape of his body as it fits against yours. You’re so focused on this that if it weren’t for the rumble in his chest, you may not have noticed he was speaking again. 

“You know what that means, right?” He asks, lowly. You furrow your brows but remain in his arms, content. 

“What?” You ask. Jackson gently cards his fingers through your hair, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. 

“We’ll both be in Korea,” he states, simply. Suddenly, you feel choked up again for an entirely different reason. Jackson’s body makes it too warm, too hard to breathe, and you wrench yourself out of his grasp until the only connection is his hands on your shoulders, gazed locked. His gaze is too intense to hold, and so you look away, fidgeting nervously. 

“Jackson...”

“I know it’s scary, Y/N, but—”

“I don’t know,” you interrupt, still unable to look up at him. He gives your shoulders a squeeze, imploring, and you press your trembling lips into a thin line. 

“What are you afraid of?” He asks. When you don’t reply, he lowers his voice and his body, coaxing you, making it easy like he always does. 

“Talk to me, Y/N.” There’s an unspoken please hanging in the air, and you can’t hold the tears back any longer. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, and the moment you feel Jackson’s fingers brush against your cheeks you open them again — this time to the ceiling of your bedroom. You turn your face into your pillow, trying in vain to stop the tears. 

“I’m afraid,” you breathe shakily, sheets rustling as you curl in on yourself. “I’m afraid of disappointing you.”

Who’s to say when you orbit closer that Jackson’s light it won’t simply illuminate your flaws and leave you burned?

Only the silence follows in reply. 

You put off going to sleep for the next few days, stalling the inevitable meetings with Jackson. He’s not pushy, never pushy, but you can’t bear to see the look in his eyes. Jackson wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s not the type to say it, but you know you’ve let him down, and it breaks your heart even as you think it’s the best way. 

You always dreamt of meeting your soulmate when you were your best self. Even if Jackson is meant to see you through everything, you want to be what he deserves, someone as shining as he is seemingly without even trying. 

You should apologize. You think about it all the time, but the words get lodged in your throat so that all that escapes your lips are pleasantries and trivial bits of conversation, parading yourself around the elephant in the room like a carousel horse. 

Most nights he just stares at you intently, letting you blather on about whatever you want. Sometimes you wonder what he sees in you, who and what you look like to him. Jackson is a beacon of light for you, a soft place to land and a sturdy supporter — and what are you? Especially now that you’ve shown him your weakness, you wonder what he thinks, wonder if he’s not pressing the issue because seeing your childishness has changed his perspective so drastically he no longer wants to meet you. 

Things are so easy in your dreams. You can be any type of yourself you want to. He doesn’t have to see you at your lowest if you don’t want him to, you don’t have to be totally honest — and have you been? 

You’ve been lying by omission. For all the years you’ve known him you’ve tried to prove yourself capable, independent, worthy of his love, and yet the moment that you should have taken initiative you backed down in an instant. A shrinking violet beneath the sun’s warm, welcoming rays. 

You wake up every morning more exhausted than the last, more disgusted with yourself each time. The words to explain yourself won’t come, because even as you know Jackson to be open and loving and wonderful you can’t help but fear the repercussions of saying “I’m afraid I won’t be what you want me to be. What you deserve.”

So you stick to your silence and Jackson does the same, falling further and further out of sync with one another until some nights are spent purely in silence. 

“My flight is tomorrow.”

“Be safe,” he says. All the lines of his body speak to his desire, and his eyes especially implore you in the same way a child’s might. And yet he remains respectful of you as ever, even to his own detriment. You swallow thickly, nodding. 

“I will.” The silence is heavy. You think you might just be crushed under the weight of it, buried alive in your sleep. 

“Do you—” Jackson cuts himself off, shaking his head. He looks back at you with a sad attempt at a smile. “Never mind. Just, enjoy yourself, okay?”

“Thank you.”

You go to Korea. You rush to settle yourself in at Yonsei, to learn the ropes so that you don’t get swept away by the tides of classes, and yet you’re never as prepared as you want to be. 

It’s only his back that you see and you know that it’s him. You’re not ready, you tell yourself, and yet you can’t bring yourself to walk away. Instead, you stand dumbly on the edge of the sidewalk as the sun rises above the horizon, lingering near the door of the cafe you were about to enter. 

You will yourself to run. You will him to turn to you. 

He’s walking amongst friends, most of whom you’ve probably heard of over the years of spending every night with Jackson. He turns his head to look at one of them and you catch him in profile, the slope of his nose and the curve of his cheekbones, the smile lines at the corners of his eyes you know all too well. He’s more beautiful in person, somehow, and you feel tears springing to your eyes, your heart swelling so you think it will burst and then the shell of you will float away on the wind. You can taste his name on your tongue but can’t seem to open your mouth. 

And then he looks back. 

Someone bumped into him, and it’s as his eyes leave their face after assuring them everything is alright that his eyes catch on yours. 

You swear, the world stops. 

Suddenly he’s pushing back through the crowd towards you, his expression unreadable, and you begin to worry about your hair and your clothes and the stupid look on your face—

Jackson comes to a stop right in front of you, not touching but certainly close enough to. You feel frozen, soaking him all in desperately and trying to get some kind of grip on reality. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. Your heart sinks, gaze dropping as your knees go weak; you were right to be worried—

“Oh my god, you’re here. You’re really here.” You whip your head back up and see that his own eyes are brimming with tears, in contrast to the broad smile on his face. If you’d thought you were emotional before, oh no. 

“Don’t cry,” he implores gently, reaching towards you with trembling hands before hesitating, and that’s all it takes for you to step forward and wrap your arms around him. You can hear his heart pounding just as fast as yours where you press your ear. 

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup, muffled by his shirt. His arms quickly tighten around you, and you can feel him shaking his head. 

“What for?” He asks, laughing. 

“For being stupid,” you reply. Jackson pulls away, wiping at your tears and only making you cry even harder as his tenderness. He looks so happy to see you that you can’t seem to do anything but cry at the emotional high of it. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay. You’re not stupid, you shouldn’t talk about yourself or your feelings that way.” You shake your head, sniffling loudly. 

“I just— I thought— I don’t know, I thought you wouldn’t like me in real life—”

“I’d love you no matter what, Y/N,” he reassures you, tilting your face up to look at him. “But I understand. I was scared, too.”

“You were?” Jackson nods, laughing. 

“Of course.” You take in every inch of his face as he gently tucks some errant strands of your hair behind your ears. The dark brown of his irises seem to be aglow with fondness, and although you think your heart should be skipping beats instead you find yourself enveloped in a calm like you’ve never known — although you still feel giddy as you gaze up at him. 

“I’m so lucky,” he murmurs, as though his thoughts are your own, his eyes finally making their way back up from tracing the contours of your face to meet your own. 

“Can I kiss you?” You can’t keep yourself from smiling, your response coming out on an excited breath as you’re already leaning in to meet him halfway,

“Absolutely.” 

As his lips press softly against your own, bodies molding together, you can’t help but think that you’re the lucky one. (And maybe people are onto something with that whole stability of soulmate bonds thing.) 

[owl-with-a-pen]

TOWER TRAINING - A CHEEKY SNEAK PEEK OF CHAPTER 63 OF MY FIC “ALL THE WAYS TO SHOW I CARE” (The full chapter will be available on my AO3 later this week)

A prompt for Harmony (Mina Loo)

Summary: A training session to build Nia’s skill in precognitive combat turns out to the be perfect chance to get Brainy to open up about certain emotional struggles.

Nia stood against a rocky and unforgiving terrain, dust blasting off of nearby surfaces into fine powdery swirls, startlingly bright against the glare of the static blue sky.

It was harrowingly beautiful. Totally alien. No matter how many times she saw it, she never thought she would get used to it. She could almost imagine the crunch of that foreign soil beneath her feet, the chill that probably ran through the bones of every prisoner who occupied its space.

She hissed suddenly, correcting her stance as something impossibly fast moved past her. A blur of washed out, ghastly colour, though Nia didn’t need to get a good look at it to know what it was. What it always was.

The Phantom rounded on her again, and this time Nia was able to capture its face, the horrible gape-jawed scream that seemed to be permanently affixed to its mouth. She backed up uneasily, gauging its distance. Once she was certain she had it in her line of fire, she threw her arm out, dream energy scorching her fingers as it tumbled through the filtering system on her gloves, spiralling outward in a vibrant blue swirl.

But, the thing was too fast. Before she’d even let her energy fly, the Phantom was already out of sight again. Nia gritted her teeth, darting her attention around the simulated room, clenching her hands.

“Do not aim for where it is,” Brainy instructed, his voice echoing from somewhere at her back. “Aim for where it will be.”

Nia bit the inside of her cheek. Training was getting more intense by the day, but this session was way harder than any before it.

She knew why. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d be travelling back in time to Kara and Alex’s high school alongside Brainy. Not only did they have to be prepared for anything the past might hit them with, the second they had a piece of Kara’s DNA, Nia wouldn’t just be fighting a simulation any longer.

They didn’t have time to waste. She had to get this right. But, figuring out where the hell the Phantom would spring out from next was proving to be incredibly difficult. If Brainy could just lend her the foresight with his differential calculus, she’d know exactly where to aim her throwing hand.

But, this was something she needed to learn alone. Brainy couldn’t be by her side at every moment.

It didn’t mean she had to like it.

“That’s easier said than done,” Nia gritted out, narrowing her eyes as she waited for the Phantom to show itself again. She could hear her heart thundering inside her head, frustration and fear practically swarming inside her gut. At least she could use those emotions to her advantage – they made her far more tempting bait to lure the Phantom back out from hiding.

“Dream energy comes from within,” Brainy continued, “what you do with it is entirely within your control.” He sounded as though he’d moved, which wasn’t surprising. He’d been circling the outskirts of the simulation grounds this whole time, reviewing her progress with his arm folded loosely behind his back. “Focus is paramount to success. Losing your focus-”

Nia yelped.

“-will be fatal.”

Nia hadn’t even realised that another Phantom had been tracking her until it was too late. Even if these simulated Phantoms weren’t progeny like the ones Prime had created the day before, they clearly travelled in packs.

Nia jerked suddenly as the creature’s talons shot out towards her, throwing up a shield of blue in a last-ditch effort to defend herself. The sudden shift in balance sent her off kilter and before she could right herself, she tripped, landing awkwardly on her side.

The shock of the impact rattled inside her, which only made her frustration that more potent. After all, Nia knew what Brainy was referring to when he spoke about losing focus. Recently, it felt like any time she had a good hold on her powers, her visions would be right there to knock her back on her ass. It didn’t matter that the Midvale visions had passed now she had a clear lead, it would only be a matter of time before another took its place. And then what? How the hell was she supposed to focus when she couldn’t even see clearly ahead of her?

The hole in her heart her mom had left behind seemed to grow deeper every day.

But then an impression of static coalesced at the far edge of the Phantom Zone simulation, and a moment later, Brainy stepped through the haze.

Something inside Nia’s chest eased seeing him there, calming a fraction of her irritation.

This training wasn’t like their previous sessions. For starters, Brainy wasn’t acting quite as reserved. Nia knew that he’d been dealing with a lot since he’d removed his inhibitors, and even more now that he was free to be himself after he’d given up his ruse against Lex. Before, he’d been doing everything to hold back his anger about the trial, his pain over Kara, but even after he’d let those emotions out, he clearly had no idea what to do with them. Yes, he’d begun to substitute donuts with healthier snacking throughout the day, but Brainy was still in clear need of that crutch, and Nia knew he was struggling far more than he ever wanted to admit out loud.

Brainy kept it well hidden during their training, although there was something far more open about his expression than there had been before. He smirked when he reached his hand out to her, offering his support.

Nia smiled back, taking his hand as she pulled herself back up onto her feet.

“Do you see where you went wrong?” Brainy asked the second she was upright, dark eyes scanning her intently.

“My focus?” Nia rolled her eyes. “I get it, Brainy. I want to be focused, too, but I can’t control when I have a vision. I can’t even control what I have a vision of.”

“Interesting,” Brainy mused. “When you have a dream, do you try to curb it to fit your situation?”

“Only if it’s dire,” Nia muttered, folding her arms. “After you—” She forced herself to take a deep breath, swallowing hard. “When you got attacked by that Phantom, it was just me and Alex against a hoard of those things. I knew that if I lost my cool, if I stumbled for even a second, Alex would pay the price and then we’d all die. I gave Alex a clear route to get to those lost souls, but then my vision hit me again, like it was trying to mess with me or something.”

Brainy ran a hand along his jaw, brow furrowed. He gestured to her thoughtfully. “Your dreams get more frequent the longer you ignore them.”

“I wasn’t ignoring them,” Nia said, a little more forcefully than she’d intended. She sighed. “It was just… I didn’t understand them. The same thing happened after you started working for Lex.” She laughed weakly. “I kept dreaming of you, and I had no idea what it meant.”

“Did you try to understand them?”

“I--” Nia bit her lip, glancing up at Brainy awkwardly. She grimaced. “With you? Honestly? No. I- thought it was just you getting inside my head.”

Brainy’s expression softened at that, although Nia was certain she saw something pained flicker behind his eyes. He took a step closer to her, almost secretively, folding his arms. “And your dreams of Midvale?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“I didn’t… I mean, there wasn’t time to look into it. If we all hadn’t connected the dots together, I’d still be no closer to understanding it.”

“Dreams are a powerful tool,” Brainy said slowly. He wasn’t quite watching her any longer, instead his gaze seemed to be focused on a task far outside of Nia’s grasp. Then, he blinked, glancing towards her decisively. “I… I watched Nura go through similar struggles at times,” he admitted, before quickly clearing his throat, “and though what I can speak of her must remain minimal, I can assure you that she found a way through her struggles in the end as well. Quick-fire visions can occur during battle, but you must not let that deter you. Your mind needs to remain open to the dreamscape at all times.”

Nia’s mouth fell open. “But, what if the vision I have has nothing to do with the fight?”

“Then it still holds importance,” Brainy said firmly. “However, I calculate that a large reason why your dreams are attacking you in this manner is because you are not allowing them to help you. You have made liberal use of your other powers in battle.” He made a small flourish with his hand. “Your dream energy, for example.”

“Thanks to your gloves,” Nia said, bumping his shoulder. “And of course I do, Brainy. Dream energy can actually hit stuff.”

“And your astral projection,” Brainy added, his lips twitching fondly. “After all, I would not be stood here without it.”

Nia blinked at that. Brainy rarely mentioned the incident at Leviathan’s ship since it had happened. Not that she could blame him. Even still, hearing it now reminded her again of how close she’d been to losing him.

And how close they were suddenly stood now. Close enough they could have been touching.

Nia’s face warmed.

“But,” Brainy continued thoughtfully, “when it comes to your dreams, you still view them as a hindrance unless you are specifically looking for something.” He quirked a brow, taking her shoulder. “Your visions do not work that way; they are a part of you, and they will work with you, but only if you allow them total access.”

She could feel Brainy’s fingers squeeze firmly against her. Nia swallowed. “I don’t know how.”

Brainy smiled and he lifted his chin, eyes glittering proudly. “Let’s try an exercise.”

[chroniccombustion]

Butterflies in the Garden

Written for the ‘Fools in Love’ Persona Fan Zine (@personafoolsinlovezine)

Genre: soulmates, soulmate indentitpre-romance, M/M Rated: K Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Akira Karusu (Ren Amamiya), Margaret, Izanagi, mentions of the IT Warnings: none Status: zine fic, oneshot; complete

Your name is Souji Seta, and you do not have a soulmate.

Your name is Souji Seta, and you do not have a soulmate.

Even as a child, when your classmates started sprouting colors, Lover’s Marks around their wrists, Platonic Marks across their backs, your skin has always been blank. You used to watch the other children as they gleefully showed off their growing ink and giggled over whose Marks might match their own. You envied them at first. Now you just feel numb.

Over time you’ve come to accept your Mark-less existence. You don’t like it, you don’t want it, but a lifetime of changing schools and absent parents means you’re no stranger to being alone. Eventually you just stop caring. At least, you tell yourself you’ve stopped caring; it’s easier than facing the gaping void of loneliness threatening to choke you whenever your guard is down.

Maybe this is better, you think. Maybe your lack of Soul Marks is the universe’s way of helping you deal with the isolation in your everyday life.

(You chant your “maybe’s” in your head and stop crying yourself to sleep by the time you reach age 9.)

---

Your flowers finally bloom when you turn 16.

A year is spent in a rural town called Inaba, where, for the first time in your existence, you actually feel alive. There are murders, a mystery, but in between the stress and combat there are people, and as you slowly get to know them you can feel your garden grow.

They start as tingles across your shoulder blades, the sensation of warm water spreading like ink along your skin. You wake one morning to find stems and buds. You wake the next to petals and leaves. Sunflowers for the Magician, hyacinth and amaryllis for the Chariot and Priestess. Gladiolus, then pink roses; lilac, then iris. There is freesia for your cousin, a dahlia for her dad. An entire field of Platonic Marks springs up almost overnight, and little by little they bury the emptiness beneath vibrant shades of love until you’re covered neck to waist in watercolor blooms.  

But for all the tattooed beauty of the flowers on your back there is still a blank spot on your canvas, and the colors fade in sadness on the day you have to leave.

---

You stop dreaming about the Velvet Room when you move back to Tokyo. You miss it, the way you miss everything else about Inaba, but your contract has been fulfilled and the logical part of you knows you have to readjust to life as a normal person. It takes ages, but you begrudgingly fall back into your boring, lonely life. You clutch at your shoulders when it gets to be unbearable; when texts and calls to your garden of friends just aren’t enough, you find your fingers searching out the comfort of the blossoms on your back.

Months pass by the time you’ve finally accepted that you’ll never see the liminal blue dreamscape again, and it’s because of this that you’re so completely unprepared for the night when, out of absolutely nowhere, you feel that familiar sensation of falling just as you’re drifting asleep.

“Honored friend,” comes the silvery-sweet voice of Margaret in your ear. “May I ask a personal favor?”

You do not hesitate, you simply tell her, “yes.”

The world around you is cold and harsh when feeling returns to your body. You open your eyes to find yourself in a… cage? Stumbling to the bars, you look out into the blue-tinted room beyond your cramped enclosure and realize that you are not in a cage, but a prison.

The walls curve away from you in a circle of cells too dark to see inside, but from what you can tell, the center of the space is empty.

Someone lurks behind you in the dark; you do not need to turn to know who it is. “There is something wrong with the Velvet Room,” Margaret whispers over your shoulder. “I cannot seem to contact my Master and I fear this new guest may be in danger.” You hear her move, hear the creak of her Compendium as it opens.

Faintly, from all the way across the room in the cell directly opposite yours, there comes the sound of rustling chains. Instinctively you step back into the safety of the shadows as a figure, clad in white-and-black prison garb, shuffles up to the bars of that distant cell. You cannot make out features, only the monochrome of skin and charcoal hair.

“Hello?” the figure calls, and the voice is male.

“Hello?!” he calls more insistently, voice hitching in building unease. “Is anyone there?”

You don’t like this. You don’t like what the Velvet Room’s become and you don’t like that there’s a boy in chains across from you in the empty dark. “Let me help,” you whisper, eyeing the oppressive space around you with creeping dread. “This isn’t right, let me help.”

You practically feel Margaret’s smile. “I was hoping you’d offer.” The Compendium snaps shut.

Something rises from your soul: an old, familiar presence that you nearly weep to feel again, lightning-charged and sizzling through your veins like a pulse. There’s a surge of ethereal blue light and past the glow, through a pair of eyes not quite your own, you see the boy in the other cell take a step backwards in shock.

When the light dims, Izanagi stands triumphant in the center of the room.

Through your Persona’s vision you see the boy more clearly. He’s roughly your age, with curling black hair and wide dark eyes set in a beautiful, seraphim face. He stares up at you-not-you in fear and awe and somewhere in the back of your head you hear Izanagi’s voice like a rumbling, distant storm.

I am thou.

But thou are not I.

The boy’s bow furrows in frustrated confusion. “I don’t understand.”

You watch through Izanagi’s eyes as he silently appraises the boy in the cell. Eventually you feel him nod.

You’ll do.

The world glows white-hot.

There’s a sensation of something shifting – relocating – and suddenly you’re blind. In place of your sight, however, comes an acute awareness of someone else, like your awareness of Margaret behind you only stronger, deeper, like you’re somehow folded up in another person and they in you. Any hollow place that once existed within you is gone, filled to the brim with this feeling of him, the boy who now holds the most profound piece of your soul.

It’s the most intimate thing you’ve ever felt in your life and you are very nearly brought to tears.

Your vision fades back in, leaving you once more inside your own body, and from across the way you can see the boy staring at his hands in pure wonder. He flexes his fingers, brings them up to press against his chest as if he’s feeling for something past his sternum. He looks up, and those dark, wide eyes meet yours.

“Who are you?” he whispers, but you feel it in your head all the same.

You get no chance to answer. Margret’s hand is on your shoulder before you can open your mouth, and into your ear she murmurs, “It’s best if we leave now, honored friend.”

You want to protest, shake her hand off, shout your name back at the boy and ask for his, but your body feels weightless, detached from your surroundings, and you blink to find the room around you blurring at the edges.

You wake up alone in the physical world, blinking away fresh tears. The feeling of completeness is still there, though, and as you stare up at the ceiling and focus, you can just make out the faint stirrings of Izanagi from somewhere far away. “Come back,” you whisper to the boy that cannot hear you. “Please …”

When the sun rises a few hours later, flooding your bedroom with light, you notice something beneath the cuff of your shirtsleeve. There, on your left wrist, in brilliant cyan-blue, is a Lover’s Mark in the shape of a swooping butterfly.

---

Life doesn’t change too much. You weren’t sure if it would because you’ve never had a soulmate before and don’t know what it’s meant to feel like, but the garden on your back hadn’t really changed anything either, so you suppose this is normal. Something that does change is the way you can sense his emotions whenever they’re strong enough.

Determination comes through a lot, as does defiance. You wonder what kind of life your soulmate is living where he’s constantly on edge, constantly tense or stressed. Anxiety and anger are common as well, and you don’t like that the negative emotions are what you get most often because you can’t tell if they’re what he feels the strongest or what he feels most frequently. Neither one is good.

You worry for him, send him thoughts of strength where you can, whisper, “you’ll get through this, I believe in you” into the butterfly, and pray that it reaches him when he needs it. You don’t know him, not even his name or where he is, but you’ve wanted him your whole life and now that you know he exists you already want to protect him. Sometimes there’s a flicker of something in return, but you can’t make out what it is.

There are times, however, when you swear you can feel his happiness. It’s soft, more focused than the other emotions, and always at night when you’re lying in bed thinking. There’s something like longing hiding in there as well, and you know this because you’ve known forever what longing feels like. The butterfly on your wrist tingles with warmth; you dare to hope it means he’s thinking about you, too.

It’s during those witching-hour moments, when you’re alone with the memory of dark eyes and even darker curls, that you press your palm over your new Lover’s Mark and pour every ounce of yearning and curious affection from your heart into this budding bond between you. You like to imagine that the faint, giggly joy you feel afterwards is him answering you back.

But your luck always runs out.

You awake in a feverish sweat one terrible, soul-rending night in November, with after-images of torture flashing behind your eyes and fear crackling in your ribs like Izanagi’s being torn apart from the inside out. It doesn’t let up even after you blink away the nightmare, and your entire body shakes violently with adrenaline not wholly your own.

You gasp into the darkness, searching for any scrap of familiar feeling you can use as an anchor to ground the both of you on either side of the bond. All you feel is chaos, a steady stream of spectral pain. You curl in on yourself then, instinctively wrapping your hand over the butterfly and clutching until your knuckles turn white. “I’m here,” you whisper, hoping against hope that he can hear you. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…”

There’s a feeling like something slotting between the fingers of your left hand, like someone is desperately gripping it, and you clench your fist in response as if you could hold his hand from far away and not let go. You stay that way until everything fades into a drug-like silence, sobbing against your Lover’s Mark and rocking back and forth until well after dawn.

Later, as you’re sluggishly getting ready for school with the morning news in the background, it’s announced that the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves killed himself last night while in police custody. Somehow, with a gut-dropping surety that you cannot explain, you know.

You don’t go to classes that day – instead, you crawl back into bed in a daze and lay there with your lips pressed against the faded butterfly, your heart freezing over inside your chest.  

---

Your Mark is silent after that.

Your hope begins to dim to embers, not yet dead but slowly dying as the months roll by. Sometimes, at night, it feels like maybe there’s still something there – an echo of lonely sorrow ghosting across your soul, but it always vanishes too quickly for you to catch. No matter how fervently you plead afterwards, there is never any response.

You look for solace in denial; old “maybe’s” sit like poison in your mind and you quickly discard them when all they do is make you sick. You cling to your garden of platonic flowers, but even they bring little comfort now that you’ve had a glimpse of something deeper.

Ever observant, your Magician is the first to notice your despondence. He calls you, asks if you’re okay, doesn’t believe you when you tell him you are. He calls again later to say he’s bought a train ticket to Tokyo for spring break, and despite your hollowness the sunflowers on your back grow a little brighter at the news.

March arrives and with it comes your friend, his presence a balm to your shattered heart. You talk for hours, catching up those months spent apart and, miserably, you tell him about your once-vibrant Lover’s Mark. It’s grey now, the color all but gone in your despair, and you’re grateful when he empathizes but doesn’t ask to see.

Three days into his visit you’re… better, so he drags you off to Shibuya for a change of scenery. It’s fun, hours passing with easy laughter, and you realize you’d forgotten what it felt like not to hurt.

You’re halfway to the arcade when it happens.

Out of nowhere comes a sharp, stinging pain – it lances up your arm, tracing the lines of your butterfly like lightning, and Izanagi roars to life inside your soul.

Go.

You run.

You don’t know your destination, nor how your feet know where to go; it doesn’t matter. You follow the pull inside your heart, letting Izanagi direct you left, right, straight for a block then down into an empty, open alleyway, heedless of your Magician calling out behind you.

Then Izanagi’s presence abruptly disappears.

You stumble to a halt. Heart hammering and confused, you nearly miss the sound of pounding footsteps steadily coming closer until they’re just beyond the opposite entrance to the alley. You turn as a figure rounds the corner—

and freeze.

Wide eyes stare at you from behind crooked glasses, dark beneath darker curls in a beautiful, seraphim face. “You,” he whispers, taking a step towards you.

And then you’re both moving. You meet as one in a tangle of grasping desperation, tugging at each other’s wrists to reveal an identical pair of butterflies in shining, brilliant blue. Your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist, and somewhere in the middle your lips connect in a kiss that feels and tastes like home.

“You’re alive,” you nearly sob when you pull apart, at the same time he murmurs in awe, “you’re real.”

Your name is Souji Seta, and you are 17 when Akira Kurusu calls you his soulmate.

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 11 - Dreamer

I’d broken up with Graham, my boyfriend of six years and had to leave the home we shared - Statement of Antonio Blake

I really enjoy how TMA probably has as many gay couples as straight couples floating around, maybe more, even among minor characters (and of course all the major canon couples). LGBT+ representation is becoming more common but I don't think I've seen anything quite like this (especially the unremarked-upon-ness of it) in mainstream media.

I would have expected this to wake me but instead I simply lay there, spasmed by dream-pain, you know, the knowledge of pain without the white heat of nerves. Oh god, that's such a familiar sensation, though! I get that all the time (I mean, sometimes I just get straight-up normal pain in dreams, but I think that's just because whatever the fuck is going on with my body is making its way into my dreamscape.) Anyway. Dream pain. It's really a rather fascinating thing.

There is something coming for you [Gertrude Robinson] and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine.

I mean, alright, Gertrude Robinson was neck-deep in horror but in the end (in the End?) she did just ... get shot. That's really not all that grizzly if you compare it to some of the other deaths in TMA. Certainly not a fate beyond imagination. Dunno what the vines' deal was with that...

I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Jon

What? Sasha? MARTIN? I mean, of all the people in the Archive, if anyone would be a practical joker, it's pre-depression Tim, surely.

My impression of this episode

On my first listen, I slept through half of this episode (again, more to do with my energy levels than the writing) but admittedly, it also didn't really do all that much for me. It sets up an interesting mystery with regard to Gertrude Robinson, but the statement itself isn't all that unsettling or even memorable and the pacing feels a bit too slow to me.

[wistful-giselle]

Dear Giselle, do you have any tips on how to think lovely thoughts? I find my mind ridden with sad, anxious thoughts that make me feel ugly. I think that if I could only imagine nicer things, I would feel sweeter and happier. Thank you 🌹

dear rose... your words strike quite a wistful chord with me; forgive me if my answer isn’t as lucid as perhaps another’s might be... I hope you find these tips a comfort, however, as they do often for me~ 🕊☆

♡ find your dreamscape~ I think there is a key for everyone to another world, a dream world to escape into in your mind and dwell for a while and gain some peace. perhaps you could think of a land or a story from a fairy tale or childhood book or beloved film or memory, and build from it- a castle, a mythical country, a seaside cavern or woodland with dryads and deer... imagine yourself physically going there when these anxious thoughts appear (and concentrate on all the details; your beautiful robes, the kind of flower in your hair, the scents)...

♡ meditation and mindfulness~ if you would permit me to slightly outline how I approach these practices (otherwise, you might like to look up a video of a guided meditation)... it is not quite about forcing the anxious thoughts from your mind, rather not interacting with them and letting them drift from your consciousness. I like to sit comfortably, close my eyes, and breathe slowly and deeply... sometimes I imagine roots growing from my feet and into the earth’s core, bringing up white light energy through my body to cleanse it (doing this carefully, focusing on every inch of my body as the light moves). sometimes I take myself to one of my dreamscapes and breathe in time with the gently lapping waves. when an anxious thought appears, I objectify it, imagine it as a little boat or leaf in the breeze, rather than considering it a part of myself. I watch the thought drift gently by. I don’t mind if I end up engaging with it- I just remind myself that it is not the time for thoughts, and bring myself back to breathing, back to the light, back to the waves... here, I like to play some peaceful white noise (such as birdsong or rain) in the background...

♡ find beautiful things in everything~ the colour of a cloudy sky is completely ethereal, if you look at it in a particular way (a white sky, especially, seems to be a gateway to the heavens). rain is cleansing; I can feel it washing away my griefs and unburdening my soul. I don’t like my face at times, but I can look at it and see that my eyes are a curious, quite lovely green colour, and I know that I like my dark hair against my pale skin (especially when lounging about in my underwear). if you have had a lonely day, try to write down at least three things that you enjoyed; perhaps the sight of a pretty blossom, or listening to a song you love... find fragments of gratitude where you can for the very act of living. I hope it doesn’t sound sentimental, but I feel that one can practice altering one’s perceptions of the world- to see it all from another angle...

if your mind and thoughts feel too dark and oppressive for these approaches, please remember above all to try to be kind to yourself, to be forgiving, to be patient. feeling sweeter and happier one day and melancholic the next does not mean you have failed; healing is a process... treat yourself as you would a close friend: with respect and unconditional love. ♡

please also do not feel shy if you would ever like to talk to me personally; I receive private messages often and would love to do anything I can to help. wishing you luck my love... yours with sympathy, giselle🌹♡

[orangeoctopi7]

A Small Setback

@stanuary Here with week one. The Theme is “Burn” and I’ve got a sequel to last year’s oneshot “A Minor Inconvenience”

***

It had been a few days since the elder Pines twins had received definitive proof that little bits of Bill were still floating around in Stan’s head. Ford had immediately set a course for the nearest land, a Norwegian island called Spitsbergen, where he was planning on doing some more in-depth research. He had already collected all his notes on the Dreamscape and Bill, as well as contacted Fiddleford for more data on the effects of the memory gun. When the old inventor asked why his old friend needed this information, Ford simply replied it was to help Stan with some unforeseen side-effects. 

What sort of side-effects? Fiddleford’s next email replied. I’d have a better idea of what data to send you if I knew what he was experiencing. 

He’s asked me to keep it confidential. Ford replied back. Just send everything.

The next email Ford got from McGucket contained an attachment so big, it took over 24 hours to download with their limited internet bandwidth at sea. 

The old researcher also asked his brother to start keeping a dream journal, and routinely asked Stan to recount all he could remember of his fateful encounter with Bill last summer. By now, Stan was getting a bit exasperated by it all.

“Seriously, it was over six months ago!” he whined, “I don’t remember any more of it now than I did yesterday! Can we just drop it?”

Ford looked ready to argue, but he must have changed his mind before he opened his mouth. “Ok, ok, if it’s frustrating you that much, I’ll stop asking.”

“Thank you.” Stan sighed. 

“We'll just have to find another way to figure out what happened.” 

Stan rolled his eyes. Of course he wasn't free to go yet.

“I've been going through the data Fiddleford sent me. The memory eraser doesn't actually erase memories, it just subliminalizes them by severing the main neurological connections.”

“... Meaning?”

“The memory is still in your head, you just can't recall it.”

“Great. What good does that do us?”

“I might be able to find access to the entire memory through your dreamscape.”

Stan grimaced. “So you wanna go digging around in my head again?” 

“Well I don’t want to, but it’s our best option to learn how Bill survived.”

“Didn’t he tell you the last time you were in there? Something about Tylenol?”

“Xolotl,” Ford corrected, “An Aztec god of death, among other things. I’m having trouble figuring out exactly how it’s connected to Bill. Which is why I need to know exactly what happened.”

“Alright, fine.” Stan consented. “But no more reading outta your nerd textbooks!”

“Oh, don’t worry, we won’t be needing that.” Ford assured him. “I need you awake this time.”

Stan raised his eyebrows curiously. “Didn’t think it worked that way.”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely certain it will work.”

“... should I be worried?”

“No, no, worst case scenario, I recite the spell and just stay in my own head.”

“Great. Let’s get this over with.”

***

Stan sat in the middle of a ring of candles glowing dimly in the perpetual darkness of the arctic winter. Ford extinguished his match and stood behind his brother. Stan turned in his chair to watch.

“Don’t pay any attention to me.” Ford instructed. “Just close your eyes and concentrate on what you can remember about beating Bill. Tune me out.”

“Heh, got plenty of practice doing that.” Stan chuckled nervously.

“Concentrate.” Ford reminded him.

Stan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There wasn’t much he remembered, and it wasn’t something he liked to dwell on. For the most part, all he remembered was blue flames, Bill begging for his pathetic life, and then punching the filthy dorito out of existence. More than anything, he remembered how he felt. Fear, then determination, a grim sense of satisfaction, and finally, acceptance. He tried to focus on those feelings and ignore Ford reciting the incantation. 

***

Stanford really hoped this would work. As he finished the incantation, there was a blue flash of light, which was a good sign. He opened his eyes, and sure enough, he no longer saw himself in the darkened galley of the Stan’o’War II, but back on the deck of Stan’s mindscape. There was a major difference this time though: Stan was actually standing there, clutching a treasure chest in his hands. It was severely damaged, blackened and burned. It seemed as though it might fall apart if someone looked at it the wrong way, but streams of blue light leaked out of it.

Ford reached out and lightly touched Stan’s shoulder. The old con man jumped like someone had cracked a whip at him.

“It’s ok, it’s just me!” Ford reassured him. 

“Where are we?” Stan asked.

“This is your mindscape, and that,” the old researcher pointed to the charred chest in his brother’s clutches, “Should be the memory we’re looking for.”

Stan gulped and cracked open the lid. Blue flames seemed to pour out of it. Ford placed his hand on top of his brother’s and opened the lid all the way. They could see the memory of Stan sitting in his favorite recliner, Bill growing more and more desperate and panicky every moment, but it was hard to make out exactly what they were saying or doing over the crackling, spreading blue flames that obscured most of the scene.

“What was that?” Ford asked suddenly as Bill started to glitch and contort with increasing rapidity.

“I think he’s tryin’ to get out.” Stan replied tensely. He didn’t like revisiting this memory.

“No, listen!”

Stan listened carefully over the crackling of the flames. “It just sounds like gibberish.”

“I think it’s an incantation!” Ford exclaimed, his voice caught somewhere between excited and scared. “Can you play it back again?”

“It’s a memory, not a video tape!” Stan glared at his brother incredulously.

“This is the mindscape, Stanley, you--”

“--Can do whatever I want, yeah yeah, I know.” Stan rolled his eyes and concentrated. The vision in the treasure chest skipped back a bit, to when Bill started warping. 

Ford listened carefully, but he still couldn’t quite make out Bill’s incantation.

“It’s no good, I’ll have to go in.” He sighed.

“Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Stan eyed the dancing blue flames.

“It’s not real, it’s just a memory. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m going with you, then.”

“Technically, you’re already there.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Alright. We should be able to just reach in…” Ford thrust his arm into the chest...

...and found himself in the cozy living room of the Mystery Shack. The blue flames flickering around the edges of the room were frozen in time, and there, floating in the center, was Bill Cipher. Ford felt his body tense up and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, ready to fight or flee for his life. 

“He’s not real, remember?” Stan said reassuringly from his recliner. 

Ford took a steadying breath and nodded. “Try not to change anything.” he advised, “Just let the memory run its course.”

“That’s gonna be hard with you here.”

“I’ll do my best to blend in.” Ford imagined himself invisible and ducked behind the recliner for good measure. Next he imagined a little camcorder, so he could go over the events in detail later, and placed it besides the chair, where it wouldn’t be noticed. 

The flames began to dance again as Stan started concentrating on the memory and time around them started to flow normally once again. Ford watched with some satisfaction as Bill looked around frantically. The panic was obviously starting to kick in now. 

“LET ME OUTTA HERE! LET ME OUT!!” the demon waved his arm, trying to create a portal to escape through, or a door to slip into a safer part of the mindscape, but nothing happened. There was nowhere to run to. “WHY ISN’T THIS WORKING?!”

Stan stood and drew himself to his full height. Although his heart was racing, he felt confidence and determination surge through him. He was going to teach this triangular jerkwad a lesson, and this time he knew how it was going to end. 

“Hey, look at me. Turn around and look at me, ya one-eyed demon!” He barked. Bill could do nothing but turn and look as the flames rose higher and higher. “You’re a real wise-guy, but you made one fatal mistake: you messed with my family!”

“YOU’RE MAKING A MISTAKE! I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! MONEY, FAME, RICHES, INFINITE POWER, YOUR OWN GALAXY!” Bill pleaded, “PLEASE!” 

Once again the demon began to warp and glitch, changing forms more and more rapidly like he was losing control. Ford watched and listened carefully, although it was getting harder to concentrate as the azure flames closed in around them.

“NRUTER YAM I TAHT REWOP TNEICNA EHT EKOVNI I! NRUB OT EMOC SAH EMIT YM! L T O L O X AAAAAAAAAA!” Bill screamed, cycling through forms faster than ever. With the last of his strength, he reached out. “S  T  A  N  L  E  Y…”

Stan wound up and socked Bill straight in the eye with a powerful left-hook. Bill shattered into millions of pieces, the shards scattering everywhere, only to be licked up by the flames within seconds. The ring of blue fire was closing in on them now. It was weird. It didn’t feel hot, but the closer it got, the more Stan felt like things were… ebbing away. 

Ford could feel it too. “Heh, good job Stanley.” He chuckled nervously, reappearing and picking up the camcorder. “Let’s pause things here so we can take a closer look.”

Stan tried to concentrate on the beginning of the memory again, but the flames surrounding them refused to budge. They just continued to close in around them. He tried to imagine a way out, but he couldn’t imagine a place to escape to. He couldn’t even recall where they’d been before they got here.

“Something’s wrong!” Stan panicked. “Ford, you gotta get out of here, now!”

“What? What’s wrong?” his brother asked in concern.

But Stan could tell he didn’t have time to explain. This wasn’t his first experience, and he knew Ford’s window was closing. He imagined one of the few things he could still recall clearly: an imposing metal structure in the shape of an inverted triangle, with a glowing white light pulsing in its center. He pushed his brother into the last possible exit.

This has happened before, hasn’t it? Was his last thought before he woke up.

***

Ford found he had stumbled to the floor when he awoke. His temper flared as he picked himself up off the floor. Why? Why would Stan ever think it was ok to recreate that moment, even in the dreamscape?

“Stanley, what were you thinking!?” he demanded. “What just happened?”

Stan came out of his trance groggily. He seemed to have a hard time focusing for a moment. He glanced around like he didn’t recognize his surroundings. “...Who… what?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a long suffering sigh. “Do you even remember what just happened?”

“Uuuuh, no.” Stan said simply. “Who’re you?”

The old researcher’s blood ran cold. “That’s not funny.”

“‘Snot a joke.” Stan replied. “Seriously, you look familiar, but I’m drawing a blank. Help a guy out here.”

Ford clamped down on his emotions best he could. He couldn’t panic now, panicking would only make things worse. “I-it’s me, Stanford, your brother.”

“Stanford…” Stan repeated, as though the name was familiar, but he couldn’t remember exactly where he’d heard it before. “But I’m… wait, no… no that’s… but you… ugh, this is making my brain hurt!” He rubbed his temples.

Ford took his brother’s hand in his and interlocked their fingers. “You’re Stanley. And I’m Stanford.” he explained as patiently as he could, although inwardly he was freaking out. “We’re twins. Dad… heh, dad couldn’t be bothered to come up with two different names.” 

Stan just stared at their intertwined hands as though they were a particularly difficult puzzle.

“Just… just wait here.” Ford said firmly as he could while his voice hitched. “I’m going to find something to help you.”

“Uh… ‘kay.”

The old researcher dashed out of the galley and into the storage room, searching desperately for the scrapbook Mabel had made them. He’d had to use it a few times when Stan had memory lapses before, but in all those instances Stan still remembered up to some point in his history. Still remembered Ford. It had never been so bad that he’d forgotten everything. Not since…

“No, nonono I can’t do this again!” Ford moaned, pulling at his hair as he continued to search. He finally found the scrapbook, which helped him get a lid back on his emotions. “No. Get a hold of yourself. This is going to work. It’s worked before.” And if it didn’t, he was willing to commandeer a plane and fly them straight back to Gravity Falls if he had to. He knew that Stanley could recover from this, it was just a question of when and how.

“Uh, you ok in there, Sixer?” Stan called from the doorway. Ford turned and stared at him in shock. “S-sorry! That was rude. Dunno why I said that. It just kinda slipped out. I-I’ll go sit back down.”

“No! That’s fine!” Ford assured him with a soft smile. “That’s your old nickname for me. We don’t use it as much anymore because someone kind of ruined it for me… but that means you’re already starting to remember!”

“Oh. Good.”

“Come sit over here.” Ford motioned towards a long padded bench besides the table with the scrapbook in his hand. “It’ll be much more comfortable.”

***

Thankfully, it seemed that Stan hadn’t forgotten everything this time after all. He had forgotten a lot, and what he did remember was quite muddled, but at least there was something to start with. 

“So I was living under your name for thirty years… while I was trying to bring you back home?” Stan recapped as the reached the end of another section in the scrapbook.

“That’s right.”

“Yeah…” Stan nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, that explains it. I was kinda confused when I first woke up, cuz I thought I was Stanford, but that makes sense.”

“Do… do you remember that?” Ford asked hesitantly.

“I remember… a lot of long nights working on that portal.” Stan said slowly. “And worrying about you. Wondering whether or not you were still alive.”

Ford managed a weak smile. “Believe it or not, I am capable of taking care of myself.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah, if you could call it that.”

“Well, I survived, in any case.” The old researcher turned the page. “And here we have--”

“The kids!” Stan finished, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Yeah! How could I forget those little firecrackers? The glitter-bomb and the nervous know-it-all.”

“Do you remember their names?”

Stan’s grin faltered. “Yyyyno. Look, I’m not doing great on names today, cut me some slack!”

[anistarrose]

Where We Would Be Without You (Forduary Week 4 - Love)

Summary: Ford reminisces on his mistakes, and Mabel is haunted at night by the choices she nearly made.

Word Count: ~1400

Warnings: none

For @forduary Week 4: Love (/together/family/connection)!

The Shack is quiet tonight, and Ford can’t sleep.

He’s sitting in the living room, just as he has the last few evenings while helping Stan remember — but tonight, Stan is up in his own room, and Ford is alone. Before Weirdmageddon, Ford had usually slept in Soos’s break room, but he’d never liked it — too many memories of prisms and journals and possession were corrupting the place, would bleed into his nightmares and practically do Bill’s work for him.

But no demons — or at least, no literal ones — lurk at the edges of his dreams tonight, nor will they ever again. From outside, he can hear wolves howling and owls hooting, and from the wall across from where he now rests, he can hear the owl-shaped clock ticking… yet the world is eerily silent in a way that Ford hasn’t felt in decades.

There’s nothing haunting this night except himself, his undistracted mind, and his mistakes — and there are an awful lot of those, aren’t there?

My fault that we ruined the Zodiac. My fault for not dismantling the portal at the first chance I had. My fault that I trusted Bill in the first place. My fault for leaving Stan behind.

From his coat’s inside pocket, he pulls out a faded photograph of two boys standing on a small and battered sailboat. It’s ripped and folded at the edges, but despite everything, still familiar.

He can think of no better way to make it up to Stan — no, not just make it up to Stan; he can think of no way he’d rather spend the remaining years of his life — but he would hardly be able to fault Stan for not giving him a second chance. He’s not sure if he would even give himself a second chance.

Why would Stan want to do anything with the person who ruined his entire life, the person who very nearly brought ruin down upon the world as a whole?

He slips the picture back into his pocket, and lets his head fall back until he’s staring at the ceiling, counting the planks. It’s not as effective of a distraction as he’d hoped.

It’ll be best just not to mention his plans to Stanley. No need to dredge up any more bitter old arguments, or long-deferred dreams, than the two of them already have this past month. The level of reconciliation they’ve reached, this cooperation as the family works to restore Stan’s memories and rebuild the Shack, is probably already pushing the limits of what Ford deserves — no need to try and force it along further, to risk destroying the progress they’ve made…

Above Ford, the silence is broken by the faint creak of a door, and by the soft and repetitive rhythm of unsure footsteps descending down the stairs.

Ford jumps up from his chair. His first instinct is that it’s Stan, having another amnesiac relapse like he so often does late at night and now wandering around, lost and confused — but the gait is different from Stan’s, he realizes, the footsteps too light.

“Mabel?” he calls out, and she turns around just as she’s about to enter the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”

She rushes to his side and buries her face in his coat, small arms wrapping around him and holding him surprisingly tight. With his unrestrained arm, Ford places a hand on her back and pats her gently, smoothing out her long and tangled hair.

“There, there. Shh, it’s alright…”

Her sniffles grow softer, and her grip on him relaxes.

“Th-thank you, Grunkle Ford,” she chokes out.

They’re both silent for a moment as Mabel collects herself, until Ford finally feels like it’s the right time to start with a simple, one-word question.

“Nightmare?”

Mabel nods. “Mm-hm.”

“Will it help to go look at the statue? To see that Bill’s dead?”

“It wasn’t about Bill,” Mabel tells him, softly yet bluntly, and Ford is at a loss for words for a moment.

“Then what was it — no, I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just…”

“No, it’s — it’s okay,” Mabel tells him. “Talking usually helps — doesn’t it?”

“If you think it does, then I’m here to listen.”

Mabel takes a deep and shaky breath.

“I dreamed… I dreamed that I pressed the red button.”

For a moment, Ford is clueless, having no idea what button she means… but then, he remembers the portal’s shutdown switch. He remembers how Dipper and Mabel hadn’t known of his existence until the very moment he’d returned, how the federal agents had been accusing Stan of wielding a doomsday device.

And he can imagine a world where the portal had never been reactivated, where he’d never been whisked out of the Nightmare Realm — he’s already imagined it, spent so much time dwelling on the possibility ever since that fateful day.

“Stan was crying, in the dream,” Mabel went on, staring down at her feet like she was ashamed of what her dreamscape self had done. “He tried so hard to turn it back on again, he tried so hard to get you back, but I don’t know if it was out of fuel, or — or —”

“Oh, Mabel…”

“And I — but I… that was almost what happened in real life, Grunkle Ford! I was the only one who was able to reach the button, who was able to choose, and — I almost didn’t trust Stan! I almost left you in the portal!”

She’s crying again now, holding onto Ford’s coat like she’s afraid he’ll drift back into the electric blue void if she lets go. “What would we have done without you? How would summer have ended without you?”

Ford is dangerously close to blurting out without the apocalypse, for one thing, but Mabel wipes away her tears and keeps talking before he can.

“This whole summer, I never saw Stan as happy as after Weirdmageddon once he started remembering and all. And I almost took that away from him! I almost took away the games you play with Dipper, and the sweaters we knit together, and — and that fight we all had with the water guns yesterday, and the hikes in the woods you took us on — and neither of us would’ve ever known what we missed! I almost took away your whole family from you, Grunkle Ford, and I’m so, so —”

“But you didn’t.” Ford kneels down next to her and pulls her into a hug, and feels her cautiously embrace him back. “And I don’t think you ever would have, when it came down to it — I don’t think there’s a single alternate reality where that happened or will happen, and trust me, I’ve seen a lot of alternate realities. That’s the thing about dreams — sometimes, they can be a lot like Bill was. They can be ugly, manipulating liars.”

“You really think so?” Mabel asks. “You really think that in the whole universe, I’d never…”

“I do. You know who your family is, and you love them too much to ever truly distrust them like that — if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be Mabel. And I’m… I’m so proud of you for that.”

For the first time that night, Mabel smiles — and Ford does too.

“Thank you, Grunkle Ford,” she tells him.

“No, thank you, Mabel,” Ford whispers back. “For being the type of person who would always, always bring me back.”

And for telling me, he thinks, how much you all care about me when I’m too dense to see it myself.

***

Stan is heading to the kitchen for a glass of milk when he hears snoring so loud it couldn’t possibly be coming from just one person — and sure enough, Ford and Mabel are both fast asleep in his chair. Mabel is curled up as she hugs Ford’s left arm much like one might hug a stuffed animal, and Ford’s head is hanging off to one side, glasses slowly sliding off his nose and threatening to fall of his face. Neither stirs as Stan tiptoes past them, or as he takes the pillows he fetched from the break room and tucks them behind their heads.

***

Thanks for reading, feedback/reblogs are appreciated as always! 

I’m going to try and update SSD soon now that Stanuary and Forduary are done but who knows if I’ll stick to that lol

[jellybeanforest-a-go-go]

Chapter 6: Friend

Chapter Summary: Steve’s friends encourage him to start dating again. Meanwhile, Tony attempts to help Steve get over Peggy by taking him on dates in his dreamscape.

“It’s for your own good,” Tony insists. “Completely platonic. No ulterior motives to see here.”

Tony is such a liar.

Fic Summary: Billionaire playboy Tony Stark pisses off his latest one-night-stand, who threatens to turn him into a Beast until he learns humility and compassion for his fellow man. Tony can already visualize Pepper’s disapproving glare as she’s forced to add yet another person to the security watch list. It figures he would eventually stick his dick in bonafide crazy.

“Is that really the best you got?” he scoffs. “That would be utterly unoriginal. Uninspired even.” He has already seen that movie and the remake.

…Maybe Tony should learn when to keep his mouth shut.

Or: A spurned lover turns Tony into a mattress.

Based on a Cap-Ironman Kinkmeme Prompt.

Fic Snip:

“It’s harder here, to keep things under wraps.”

“I imagine it would be more difficult to lie to yourself when this world can be anything you want. Your past, or an ideal version of it anyway.” Tony lifts up his glass, clinking it against Steve’s motionless one. “Cheers.” He takes a sip. It’s not bad, as far as beers go. He still would have preferred a good scotch though.

“And this is what? My ideal first date?” Steve looks around, taking in the casual setting and Tony himself.

Tony is uncertain whether he means the pub itself or the company, so he shrugs. “I don’t make the rules; I just work here.”

“I guess I am out of practice,” Steve muses.

“Hey, I resent that. I’m an excellent first date,” Tony argues before dropping his voice, muttering into his glass. “It’s the second date and beyond that I struggle with.”

“On our first date, I took Peggy dancing.”

The pub fades into the background as a dance hall comes into focus. Tony’s eyes are drawn to the center of the floor lit up like a cheesy romantic comedy where Peggy and a copy of Steve sway to the music, her body curved flush into his. He’s whispering something in her ear that must be funny because she pulls back a bit and laughs. Tony turns to look at Steve still sitting across from him, cheek resting on a curled fist as he watches the memory play out with shining eyes and a rueful smile.

Okay, enough of this.

Tony stands to block the spectacle and holds out his hand. “May I have this dance, Cap?”

Steve snaps out of his reverie to focus on the present. “What? Really?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it,” he says, reaching out further to take Steve by the hand. “Now, let’s cut a rug or whatever it is that you old-people say.”

“I’m younger than you!” Steve protests, but he follows Tony all the same.

“Not in spirit.” And that’s all that counts now that he is most-likely dead.

Tony spins Steve around, one hand slipping behind to settle on the small of Steve’s back while the fingers of the other stay interlaced with Steve’s own as Tony executes a simple dance step.

“I usually lead,” Steve remarks after a moment.

“So do I, but I’m willing to switch up if my partner asks nicely.” Tony steps in, then spins them around, pushing Steve’s hand down his back while moving his own up to rest on Steve’s upper arm. “There. But only because I like you.” And to his surprise, Tony discovers his statement to be true.

The focal point of the room, the spotlight which had formerly been on Peggy and doppelganger-Steve has shifted to center on Tony and current-Steve as the old memory fades into the background then dissipates.

Steve looks down at the other man, his tone betraying uncertainty. “Who are you anyway? Are you really the contrarian inside me?”

Tony smiles wide, his eyes soft. “Honey, I’m anything you want me to be.”

“How about a friend?”

Tony laughs. “Sure, I can do that.”