#odd dream. weirdly vivid

[pcktknife]

man I had a dream I got a 4 tier birthday cake (it's nowhere near my bday irl) with a like chocolate sign on it that said hbd [my name] and then my aunt came and took a fuckin bite out the thing and then i was mad for the whole dream

[cosmicoryx]

i think i drank so much wine at a bottomless brunch that I fell asleep and briefly inhabited an alternate universe version of myself

[kawaiichibiart]

Honestly, Tsukasa's new ZOZOTOWN outfit is what I think he'd for Fantasista SQUAD. Maybe not exactly 100% the same outfit, but it would fall more along those lines.

Like, the way I see it-

Akito would have oversized jackets and hoodies, slightly loose and/or fitted T-shirts, jeans or sweats (it really depends, sometimes he'll wear his pajama pants) and sneakers. He's very much casual/comfort. He's also the one who wears the most jewelry, from his multiple piercings to necklaces (shut up Ena, no this chain isn't yours) to the friendship bracelets Toya gave him (so Tsukasa might of helped, they were from Toya and that's all that matters, okay?). Akito is FS's stylist. If they're going to perform, he's checking over their outfits (he spends the most time on Rui who just has to have weirdly patterned and mismatched clothes).

Toya would go for things that are more fitted, but because he's rebelling at first (eventually being a Street Artist becomes a passion he fully embraces) he'll wear clothes that have rips in them or are stained (with ink or paint). He'll scuff his shoes and mess his hair around. He has bandages on his hands and knees, not for aesthetics but because he's scraped himself so much he actually needs them. I don't know how to call his style but that about sums it up.

Tsukasa, like Akito, would go for jackets and hoodies, but moreso like Toya would have them be more fitted. Street music wasn't originally his plan to achieve stardom, he still goes back to his old scripts, but it's something that got him out. He starts out with just wearing hoodies, but that expands into getting denim and leather jackets, wearing sweats and joggers, and changing how he does his hair. Part of him says he's doing it to support Toya, to show him he doesn't have to do this alone, another is saying it's for Saki, to show her that she can do something she's never done before and can succeed, and a very small part is saying this is genuinely for him, that he needed to do something to get out there. Make a name for himself.

Rui goes for sweatshirts and long coats, all in in weird patterns of course (much to Akito's dismay). He'll usually just wear his uniform pants or jeans and is the one most likely to wear mismatched shoes. He's very likely to have a wrench and/or a screwdriver in one of his pockets and he's the one most likely to wear makeup (with Tsukasa being a close second, Akito and Toya usually wear eyeliner and that's about it). Rui's style is out there, eccentric, and artistic. Where the other three have a specific color highlighted (such as Toya wearing blue or Akito going for an overall autumnal look), Rui will sometimes look like a box of crayons threw up on him.

And people like that about them. They see Akito and they see someone who's comfortable in what he's wearing. They see Toya and they see someone who likely knows how to put himself together, and if they notice the bandages, someone who's either a fighter or someone who generally take care of himself. They look at Tsukasa and they see change. They look at Rui and they see vividness, an explosion of colors. They look at them all together and they see an odd group of boys who came together and found a passion in something. A dream to pursue. Together, they are, well, a bit of a fantasy. Maybe not your typical one, but one none the less.

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Ghost!Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader - Prologue

A little prologue, I guess? I do want to make this into a proper fic, just a bit busy now so I'm not sure how often I'll be able to write.

English isn't my first language and this is my first fic, so please bare with me!

Inspired by @ghouljams's ghost!Ghost fics!

(Yes I did write something for this previously on a different account but ended up deleting it for reasons)

Content warning: MW3 (2023) major spoilers, major character death right at the beginning, not edited because it's 1am and I'm feeling lazy but really want to post this, please let me know if I need to add more, I'm still new to this!

Soap x reader, this one is from Johnny's POV but the next part will be reader's POV.

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

It’s odd, really, how quick it all happened. From defusing a bomb to saving his captain to getting shot. He hadn’t even realized he was dead at first, although it should have been obvious in hindsight. No one could survive being shot in the head from point-blank range like that, not even an elite soldier.

Truly understanding what had happened took a while. Sure, he could see his own limp body on the ground as his teammates stood around him, when it was delicately put in a body bag and carried away, but it didn’t hit him until way later. It was more confusing than anything when he tried to tell them he was alright, that he was right there, and nobody would listen. Nobody would even look at him.

He watched as people came in and out of the tunnel for the next few days, doing their investigations and cleaning up the corpses and the blood, until everything went back to normal. Trains ran by as scheduled, workers hustling about.

Johnny was deep in denial for a long, long time. He can’t be dead, absolutely not. Look, he’s right here! Just- just look at him. Please look at him, say something to him. Why the fuck is everyone ignoring him?

No, actually, it’s just a bad dream. That’s what it is. He’s having a very vivid nightmare, one that feels like it just won’t end. But it will. Definitely. He’s going to wake up at base, or maybe back at his apartment in the city, and he’ll go to work and tell everyone about the weirdly realistic nightmare he just had, and they’ll all have a laugh about it.

But days turn into weeks, and he’s still there. It catches up slowly that this is no dream. He’s not going to simply wake up, not this time. He keeps going between absolute hopelessness and uncontainable rage. How could this happen? Sure he knew the risks of his job, that his life could end with little to no warning at any moment. Still, it’s almost impossible to actually comprehend once it has happened. What will his family think when they get the news? How will his poor mother handle it, if at all?

What about his team? They’re trained soldiers, best of the best. They’ve all lost friends, loved ones, teammates. They’ve seen it all before, surely this is no different. Just another Tuesday. No, they’re a family. At least in Johnny’s eyes. They must miss him, grief in their own ways.

And then there’s Makarov. Johnny can’t help but wonder where he is, what he’s doing. The 141 must still be on his tail, if they haven’t caught him already.

Johnny hopes they give him hell. For everything he’s done, and selfishly, Johnny hopes they make sure to avenge him while they’re at it.

Acceptance of this new reality comes agonizingly slow. Johnny tries to force it, tries to convince himself that it’s okay, it was bound to happen eventually. It just happened sooner than he had dared to hope. But that’s how it goes, people die, the world moves on.

He does eventually move around the underground tunnels. He could leave. At least he’s pretty sure he could if he tried, but he doesn’t want to. Maybe someday, but what good would it do now? Watching his loved ones grieve his passing, wondering how the hell they can go on. Johnny knows he was loved. He is loved. And he is full of love, even if he didn’t always show it in a traditional way. But the people around him definitely knew it, Johnny always made sure of it.

And now he’s alone.

He wanders the underground tunnels, watching the trains rush by. Makes sure to step aside when they do, still afraid of being hit. Refuses to even test it if he’d just pass right through them or other solid objects and surfaces (or maybe he does pass his hand or entire arm through some worker in a bright vest, just to see if he can. It’s not like the man will ever know anyway, despite the cold shiver that seems to go up his spine.)

Finding himself at a platform with people passing by at almost all hours of the day feels like a relief. Nobody will still acknowledge him, but the hustle and bustle fills his days with something, and that’s definitely better than nothing. It’s boring and mundane but feels less lonely. He watches as people rush to work, complain about the weather and how the train is late again, teenagers loitering around and kids playing at their parents’ feet as they wait. Occasionally he’ll see some dramatic show of goodbyes and breakups and arguments and heartbreaks of all kinds. He’ll see reunions, online friends meeting for the first time. Even watched some poor bloke propose to his girlfriend. She had awkwardly declined and quickly hopped on the next train, leaving her boyfriend on the platform. Johnny would have felt bad for the young man, if the couple hadn’t looked like they were on their first date.

He makes stories about people, especially ones who take this route often. Wondering where they’re coming from, where they’re going and why. What the lives of these seemingly regular civilians must be like. The single mom who gets on the train almost every day with two screaming toddlers in tow. The young man always smoking, ignoring the glares and the security telling him off. The old woman who comes by alone, often not even getting on a train and opting to sit near the stairs for a couple hours, a few days a week, just people watching. Just like Johnny, he supposes.

That’s how the first months go by. Johnny isn’t sure how long, there’s no point in keeping count of the days, weeks, months. He’s dead, what’s he going to do with that information? Well, he does keep some track of the days, reading headlines of newspapers and articles over people’s shoulders as they wait, just to keep some track of what’s going on in the world outside the tube network.

Yeah, it’s still boring as hell. Faces passing by, day by day.

Johnny is tempted to leave, or at least see if he can. There’s only so many things to see at a train station until it starts to numb his mind. He could probably see the world. Other than war zones and safehouses and such, that is. Do ghosts go on vacations? Can they go on vacations? Johnny doesn’t know much about what ghosts – at least he thinks he’s a ghost, or a spirit of some kind – like him are capable of. Too many movies and stories about the subject, all so similar but oh so different from one another. Guess there’s no better time than the present to find out, huh?

Those plans of leaving for good are quickly forgotten when something – someone – catches his eye one day. Not even sure why, he feels drawn to her, like a magnet. And after just a few days of seeing her almost daily as she gets on a train in the morning and returns later in the evening, it just doesn’t feel enough for poor lil’ Johnny. Whatever this is, he can't just let her be. Especially when, for a brief moment, he believes she looked at him. Actually looked straight at him.

Well, maybe he will try and leave this tunnel, after all.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! 🌷This was a fairly quick thing, just because I wanted to get this little fic started, and starting a new project is always the hardest part in my experience. Just wanted to get the ball rolling, ya know? Just getting those brainworms out.

Original drabble | Chapter 1

[textless]

I’m not actually back yet - still wading through photos - but I’ll leave this here. 

Other people's dreams are mostly boring, and it's fine to look at the oldish photo and move on. 

I've had a couple of extra-vivid dream images stick with me after waking up lately.  I used to have horrible nightmares when I was younger, and mostly don't anymore, but sometimes I still have dreams that feel realer than life. 

Both of these have to do with travel, and aren't bad at all, just weirdly specific.

In the first, I had checked in to a hotel by myself, and found detailed instructions in the room about how to call down to the desk if needed.  Like, a script:

Hello, my name is JANET ANDERSON, in Room 602, and I would like MORE TOWELS, please.

That seemed a little odd, but the striking thing was that the instructions were on ditto paper, which is similar to carbon paper.  I haven't seen or touched a copy like that since grade school, but the very particular feel of it was instantly recognizable, thin and slightly shiny.  I folded it up and put it in my pocket with needless stealth.

This morning, I dreamt that I was on a trip and getting ready to leave in a rush.  I had a pile of luggage, and when I moved the bags it turned out I had an adorable little dog that I had completely forgotten about.  He was under the luggage but fine.  In fact, he was sound asleep.

He was a small light-brown dog with curly fur, and he was dreaming and talking in his sleep.  It didn't seem especially strange that he was talking, but I was struck by what he said.  He was moving his paws the way dogs sometimes do when they dream, and saying, "Mama leg, baby leg.  Mama leg, baby leg."

Then I woke up, thinking "Mama leg, baby leg," which doesn't have any special meaning for me but is a memorable phrase.

Happy Sunday, and have you had any unusual dreams lately?

[the-fae-folk]

hi there! i don’t know a lot about faerie folklore, but i stumbled across your blog and i was hoping you could shed some light. i had a super vivid dream that i was walking thru a cave because a spirit told me that if i got thru to the end, i’d find the loml. i got there, but then i fell through a hole that took me to what i assume now i faerie land (?). it was very warm & happy & i felt weirdly electric and energetic. i met a man ( faerie ?) and we had a baby, but then he and the baby disappeared. it felt like i was looking for my baby for years but then i got yanked back into the cave and i wasn’t allowed to come. no time at all had passed in the “real” world.

any thoughts on what the baby means? i can’t find anything online about people who have had similar dreams, but i couldn’t stop thinking about my baby. he looked nothing like me and his eyes were so bright green like diamonds (mine are brown). i know it’s such a long Ask but it has been driving me INSANE what folklore could say about this. THANK YOU !!

There are several different aspects that go into this dream that we might need to pick apart before we can really try to answer your question. Firstly, the fact that your dream baby did not look anything like you is a common theme in stories that surround humans that have children with faeries, or humans whose children have been replaced by faeries.

And there are many stories where humans have fallen in love with and/or copulated with a faerie to produce a child. Generally they don't end terribly well with the child having all sorts of odd behaviors and abilities. Changeling stories are even worse and usually contain rather gruesome depictions of how the child, perceived as a fairy trick, was brutally murdered. Now the dream aspect is a little more difficult to pin down. There are several possibilities about what could be happening. One, it could just be a dream. Dreams themselves take a variety of forms and are theorized to be your mind's way of not only processing all of the things you've seen and done during the day, but trying to contextualize all of the knowledge into the stuff you already possessed, and a variety of other functions that only take place during the deepest part of your sleep. While true scientists don't have a clear consensus on what exactly the point of dreams are, they do suggest that dreaming appears to be a vital part of normal human functioning, and that the mind does seem to take a lot of things you're processing and spin them into a narrative because narratives are what it's good at. We do this while awake as well, but with more restrictions about the narrative we allow ourselves to spin. Most of the time. However while i'm personally more inclined to believe the above, there are other possibilities. One might be that you actually went through the events that took place in your dream. Either in the past and you are now remembering the events through sleep, or possibly you are metaphysically journeying to other realms while your body slumbers. This definitely has a precedent. Take the story of Peter Pan, for instance. The Neverlands (yes, plural, it wasn't a single island) were an archipelago of islands that existed in the minds of children. Everything was all compact and close together so that adventures had almost no time between one and another, and that a map of a child's mind would resemble a map of the Neverlands, without any boundaries at all. And each Neverland would be different from another. For instance, John Darling's Neverland had "a lagoon with flamingos flying over it," while his little brother Michael's had "a flamingo with lagoons flying over it." In the story of Peter and Wendy, we learn that it is difficult to mark the passage of time as there are a great many more suns and moons in the Neverlands than at home.

While Disney's depiction places Neverland out past the stars of the sky, Barrie's description of its location is somewhat different. He only says that it is "second to the right, and straight on till morning." The children are only said to reach it because it was "out looking for them." This blurring of the imagination, of the fantasy, with the reality is what's vitally important here. Barrie didn't come up with this association of Faeries and dreams in a vacuum, no there were numerous novels, stories, and even plays that made the connection between the Fairyland of folklore, which had always been described as having a dream-like quality, and the actual realm of dreams and imagination.

Consider Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream". The story's primary tension is caused by a fairy dispute (over a changeling of all things), and this disturbance of nature, for the fairies are depicted as being closely related to nature, blurs the boundaries between fantasy and reality. The whole play takes upon itself a dreamy quality because at a certain point it becomes difficult to separate the dreaming from the waking. This effect is compounded upon by the use of the magic flower by Robin Goodfellow to cause mischief and confusion among the human lovers and the fairy royals. The mechanicals, who are preparing to put on a play for the wedding of the Duke and the Queen, are performing a play within a play. And when Robin turns Nick Bottom's head into that of a donkey, the other players run screaming at the sight of him when he comes to speak his next lines.

When Oberon orders Robin to fix his misdeeds and restore the lovers to their proper love, he says that their memories of the events will be as if it were a dream. When Nick Bottom wakes and finds his head returned to normal and no enchanted fairy queen making love to him, he assumes that it must have been some kind of dream. The play they are putting on is the tragic tale of "Pyramus and Thisbe", yet the mechanicals are so truly terrible at acting their parts that the lords and ladies laugh as if it were a comedy. It is important to note that the characters are actors who are brilliantly playing characters who happen to be bad at acting, and that the audience for the play has another audience, you, watching them even as they watch the play. As the play comes to an end, Robin speaks directly to the main audience, saying that if any of the shadows (referencing the allegory of the cave) have somehow offended them, they can simply imagine that everything, the whole of the play, was just a dream and they've been slumbering in their seats since the curtains opened. But if they did enjoy the story he's brought to them, and are therefore his friends, he invites them to applaud. There is so much literature that ties faeries and fairyland to dreams. But what exactly those ties are is purposefully unclear and impossible to pin down. One final possibility is that the dream is prophetic in some way. But I've always found myself to be somewhat skeptical of Oneiromancy as a practice. Not because I believe that such a thing can't be real, I have no particular belief about it either way, but rather because I tend to take a rather skeptical view of most people today who claim to interpret them. But who can say? Perhaps I am wrong. I hope that, if nothing else, this has given you a possible direction to follow in understanding your particular situation. Good luck, you'll need it.

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 29, 1973

There’s an English news stand in the airport terminal, and Daniel is calm enough to think about picking something up for the flight. Maybe he can just read a book, like a normal person, instead of scaring the shit out of his neighbor by having nightmares the entire time. 

Maybe he won’t sleep on this flight, anyway. Two nights in a row of real sleep, and everything feels a little clearer.

Jim Croce is on one of the magazine covers, and Daniel’s fingers skim over it, heart sinking a little as he reads the headline. Dead in a plane crash, not even two weeks ago. He flips through the pages, wondering what else he missed in the haze. Stares at a glossy picture of Croce and his young son.

Croce’s 1972 ‘Time in a Bottle’ was written when he learned he would become a father.

Daniel puts the magazine down. Shakes his hands out, tongues at the split in his lip. Grabs a cheesy looking sci-fi book, instead, and a pack of cigarettes, and cinnamon candy. 

People stare at him as he heads over to the gate. He feels more put together than he has in weeks, so it’s not that he’s a raving lunatic or anything. Just that everyone is dressed nice, in suits and hats. Some of the ladies wearing gloves. Daniel supposes he’s underdressed. And  his face is still a little fucked up from the other night. He must look like a scumbag.

It doesn’t matter, though. He knows that. Even feeling calm like he is now, the apathy towards them feels so centered and rational. They don’t know what he knows. They’re off on business, or visiting family, or checking some dream vacation off the wish list. As he watches them, he thinks they’re like the allegory of the cave that his hot professor told him about. 

Lestat’s watch is cold under his thumb, in his pocket. It clicks against his lighter as he pulls both of them out, rolling them against each other in the palm of his hand for a moment before he lights a cigarette. He twists the winder idly, barely able to hear it, and it feels good. Grounding and real, and he feels the age of the thing. 

It’s clear enough, just for now, that he wonders about finding someone to repair it. Maybe can go back to the States, where people will understand him. Maybe Americans understand the need to rush. He wonders how many shops he can call, and how far Armand’s cash will get him if he demands to have it done the same day.

It could use a polishing, but it glows in the sunlight. Daniel tilts it towards the huge airport windows, studying the gleam of it. 

Odd, that Lestat will have never seen it like this. Maybe just in candlelight, in lanterns. He wonders if Lestat crawled under the house before it had electric lights.

The winder click click clicks, so softly. Danie’s unsure if he imagines the sound, if maybe his brain just supplies it. He sets his cigarette onto the hurt part of his lip, reveling in the dull ache as he presses in around the filter. With his free hand he turns the watch over, caressing it, looking at the name again.

It reminds him of something.

Deep, buried down there. Way down in the back of his head. He twists it again, chasing the thread that flares up. It’s tactile, and familiar, like maybe something from his childhood.

The memory floods him as they announce that his flight is boarding, as he goes to stuff the watch back in his pocket. And it’s sharp, too vivid, so that he freezes where he is, so that he forgets to ash his cigarette. As if he didn’t already look like a dirtbag, and now there’s a powdery stain on his dark t-shirt.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, and tries to brush it away. He glances up at the gate, and down at the watch, and remembers winding up the locomotive on the train set he had when he was little. It would click click click, round and round and round, cold in his small hands. 

Weirdly enough, it was like time stopped then, too. 

Daniel looks back on stuff like that sometimes and wonders if there were clues that he wasn’t built like everyone else. When he was little it confused him—he never quite understood why his dad had been so excited to help him set the tracks up, but got mad at him later for playing with it too much.

He hasn’t thought about it in a long time, though. He takes a final drag off the cigarette and stubs it out in the ashtray that’s built into the arm of his chair. And he’s up, squeezing around the watch as he stuff it into his pocket, trying to hold onto his calm as he heads to the gate.

Something ephemeral about it, like everything else. How he could play with his train for hours and hours and hours, and forget to do his chores. How he could rise out of it sometimes, and behave, and be nice while family was over for Sunday dinner, and how he could sit still and know he would go right back to it after. Later it was comic books, and then it was his record collection, and for a while it was the interviews. 

And now it’s…

He’s clear right now, he’s behaving. He’ll get on the train and read a book like the other people.

Train? No. It’s a plane. 

And Jim Croce died in a plane crash and that sad sad song was about his son. And Daniel has always fucking been like this. 

He rubs his face.  

The stewardess is dead behind the eyes as she checks his ticket, and Daniel wonders if she wants to be somewhere else, too. 

“It won’t last, you know?” he says to her, as she hands his ticket back, and points towards the right side of the plane. 

This won’t last. It won’t last. I’m just up for air. It will get bad again. 

She shrugs. Doesn’t give a shit. Gestures for him to keep moving, because he’s blocking the door.

“Please be seated,” she mumbles. 

[previous day] | [next day]

[golbrocklovely]

i’m the anon that sent that shifting n stuff ask! so your college experience counts as shifting (like 100%) and i’d love to hear it!!personally on the fence about the legit science side of it, since small things like the berstein bears and little timeline tweaks I think could be real, and ppl having strong emotional reactions are obviously smthg unless theyre lying (but they dont have a reason to really, and theyre living w the stress of what feels like gaslighting to them). but the tiktok -🌟

see this issue i have of calling what i experienced as "shifting" is i was very much awake and living my life when it happened. hell, even someone else i knew said things felt different (i'll explain in the story) so to me, this wasn't like a very vivid daydream or dream even. but i also can't completely explain what happened logically.

okay, here's what i experienced many moons ago, where i think we switched onto a different timeline.

this is super long and weirdly timely so... strap in lol

how i always described this situation to those that wanted to know about it: imagine taking any room in your house. you have all the time in the world to memorize everything about it. the furniture, the lights, everything. imagine i tell you to leave that room for a couple minutes, and then come back. you do that, and when you come back i tell you that something about this room is now missing. it's up to you to figure out what is no longer there. now, it could be as noticeable as a couch or a chair, right? or... it could a quarter that was under the rug that you didn't know about. that's how annoying this whole thing felt. you know something's different. but you don't know what it is.

this was november of 2017. i was in college. to give a brief run down of my sleeping schedule at the time, i would leave for school (bc i commuted) around 8 am, get there at 9, and then stay at school until 5 pm. then i would get home around 6/7, depending on traffic, and pass out almost immediately. then i'd wake up anywhere around 1-3 am, do homework and whatnot and then literally stay up the entire time until the next day at 6/7 pm again. if i was lucky, i could nap at school (bc my dad worked at my university and i could sleep in his office) or if i didn't have homework i could sleep until the next day when i would have to get ready for school.

so it's safe to say my sleeping schedule was ass lol

i just came home, it was a monday. i think i stayed up a bit later, worked on an art project for school, and then went to sleep around 8/9 pm. i remember falling asleep, i remember deciding i was going to sleep.

i woke up around 3 in the morning. that wasn't odd, i usually always wake up throughout the night. however when i woke up, i was confused as all hell. i didn't have a weird dream, if anything i didn't really dream at all, and when i woke up i just felt really confused, like my room looked different to me or something.

i remember saying out loud, "something feels off", and then i went back to sleep. i slept until the morning when i had to get up, bc i had no other homework that night.

on tuesdays (from what i can remember now since this was so long ago at this point), i would have a 9 am bio class, then i would have a couples hours off, and the around 1 or so, i would go to my art class. i remember distinctively carrying a big ass portfolio to school, or into my dad's office on these days. thursdays, i had a similar schedule. the only difference being i didn't have art, i had a bio lab instead that was a bit later than the art class. this is all important to the story.

i go to school on tuesday, take my portfolio to my dad's office, leave it there, and then go to my biology class. class is normal, nothing out of the ordinary. now, to give you an exact date or time frame of when this all took place, we had a WEEK before thanksgiving break. and i knew my professor wanted our last class together to be a quiz or a test. and our break started on wednesday the following week.

and i remember half way thru class sitting there, wondering why she was teaching us all of this new material when we should have been taking a test. class ended, she said "see you on thursday" and i remember almost raising my hand to say "thursday is thanksgiving". it took me a solid 30 seconds to realize OH, i'm thinking of the wrong dates. it's not the week of thanksgiving, it's the week before.

i started walking back to my dad's office and i thought to myself "what else do i have to do today? nothing, right? i don't have any other classes." (to addon, on mon/wed/fri i only had one class). i get back to my dad's office, see my portfolio and go OMG dumbass, you have art. it was literally the only homework you worked on last night. you always have two classes on tues/thurs.

i was very confused, but shrugged it off. however, i want it to be noted that while i can be forgetful sometimes, when i was in school, i really wasn't. i was on top of my school work and never once need an extension bc i made sure to know when things were due. so to be a week off time wise was really confusing.

fast forward a bit, it's time for my art class. the one thing i LOVED about my campus was that we had flowers all over that were just absolutely gorgeous. i'll even insert the one photo i took of these flowers from a month before this event happened to me (also, ain't creepy that it's also from a tuesday??? also also i had to ss this from snapchat lol):

so as i'm walking to class, i have to pass by these flowers. they looked like this ^^^ literally the day before, and i just generally loved walking by them when i would go on that side of campus.

i stopped dead in my tracks. they were all dead.

they looked burned, like someone had set them ablaze. like, usually when plants like these die there is at least some petals left on the ground. maybe shriveled up and whatnot, but proof that they were once vibrant flowers. i'm telling you, they were all gone and there was no petals anywhere. it was so eerie to me that i felt really creeped out.

i went to class, nothing else really happened. i asked my friend if she felt off that day, and she said no. i went home after my class, repeated the cycle of sleeping and then getting up late.

on wednesdays, i had my one class mid way thru the day, so usually i would spend my mornings going to the library and working on bio lab stuff (which would be due the next day). so i did that, went to my usual spot, started working on my lab. i get a text around 10/11 ish by my friend from my art class (that was also in the same major as me, theater). and she told me the cast list was posted for our final show. this was my senior year and this would have been my last chance to perform. i had only perform twice, and really wanted to get in something else before graduating.

she sent me the cast list, and i didn't make it into anything. i was taken aback bc the director, who was also my adviser, had praised my song choice and thought i sounded excellent and basically kissed the ground i walked on after my audition, which is something that she never did before.

and the thing is, i had not been casted before. so this wasn't new to me. but literally every time, i would cry. it meant a lot to me to be included so when i wasn't i just felt terrible, so i would always cry. i remember digging my nails into my palm and tears welling up in my eyes. i remember looking around at everyone in the library, already feeling embarassed that i was gonna cry publicly. i closed my eyes, and took a really deep breath.

and suddenly, all of the sadness i felt went away immediately. like in a snap, i was suddenly okay. hell, i was more than okay. i was… happy.

not to be too sad sounding, but i'm never happy. well, it's very rare for me to be genuinely, deeply happy. especially back then when i was at one of my lowest and most depressed. but i sincerely was so happy, so relieved. i sped thru my bio lab somehow, left the library early, and when i walked back to my dad's office, i was fucking GIDDY. you ever see in movies when someone's in a good mood they point and wave at strangers?? i was, honest to god, thisclose to doing that bc that's how HAPPY I WAS.

i was deeply confused by all of this tho. bc none of it made sense. how did i forget what week it was so quickly and think i was a week ahead? how did i get over the heartache of missing out on the final chance i had to perform? it was like a week had passed in my mind, and that's why my emotions - anger, sadness, shame, you name it - were all gone within a second.

i genuinely believe that we somehow jumped a week in time. now granted, you could probably chalk a lot of this up to me just being in a weird headspace, forgetting things bc stress, my depression, terrible sleeping habits, ect. i get it. i've gone thru all of those scenarios myself, even to this day.

but the ONE THING that makes me think this actually happened…. is my mom. fast forward to mid decemeber, i remember it was when i was off but my dad wasn't, so me and mom were driving up to my university to pick up my dad from work. i was talking to her about my life and school and whatever. idk what we were talking about exactly, but i said to my mom "i feel like something has shifted. like something changed."

she agreed with me. "yeah, things feel really off anymore." i told her that i've felt this way for a while. and then my mom goes, "have you been feeling this way since the week before thanksgiving? bc that's when i started to feel it."

imma be honest, i don't believe in conspiracy theories. i'm not one to jump the gun on shit like this, but clearly something happened. i'm not sure what, but something changed for me back then. and i think it's bigger than just me and the ppl immediately around me. but that's just how i feel about it.

this was very long and i'm really sorry if this was boring to read lol

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

DOUBT MAKES THE STRONG WEAK ; PART 8 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.5k SUMMARY: From concussions to destruction, you find yourself developing an odd trust in the last two people you would even begin to have faith in and when the apocalypse seems unavoidable, you discover that there may be more to the mystery of the universe. A/N: Well, this chapter is long. And mainly pertains around the theme of 'doubt'. A lot more of Sylvie stuff and Loki just having heart eyes the whole time. I love this chapter and I can’t wait to write more as the story ends. Please tell me what you love, hate, anything (maybe theories lol). Thank you for showing so much love. gif from this gifset by @kamalaskhans WARNINGS: Swearing. Apocalypse. Injuries. Blood. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

You were once a fighter.

Hunter E-87 was the name you once knew, hollered through different fields and dimensions in time and space. You fought for what you thought was right, pledging allegiance to a cosmic establishment that held all power to a single timeline and never questioned the works of the Time-Keepers. The Sacred Timeline is indeed sacrosanct, too important, too valuable to interfere. You fight in the name of the single thread of time, the bark of a tree, forbidden to bare branches of a potential multiverse. You fight because the thought of alternate timelines used to scare you. Yet, if alternate universes were meant to be, the lives you took and destroyed are now in the grasp of your bloody hands. You hold the responsibility of the death of the innocent, taking part in mass genocide.

But promises must be kept.

The thought constantly haunts you in your sleep. You have dreams of death, war, destruction, and famine from across the universe. People seem to glide like specters in the world built by your imagination and mind. You have seen a lot, more than any being in the universe should, but no one talks about the aftermath of witnessing the tragedy of the universe as time goes on and on. No one talks about what it does to the mind. Music from cassettes and the wonder of human space exploration were distractions to cope with the grinding hole in you and the fact you might be turning truly crazy.

Sometimes, you would like to be human—Fewer problems and less time to live.

You blame the sickening and bizarre vivid images that come and go whenever you close your eyes as a symptom of being a hunter. The others are stronger than you. Well, they act like they are. Becoming an analyst made you sleep better but there was always doubt. Sakaar made you doubt.

Doubt makes the strong weak. Doubt makes you weak.

“You startin’ to have doubts?”

Green eyes. They watch you with curiosity with a hint of amusement. You hear yourself hum. “Would it be bad if I said yes?”

He laughs. It’s mighty. “Yeah. Definitely bad.”

A beat of silence. You feel your eyes start to sting. “I couldn’t even tell my mom.” A laugh escapes your lips despite the hurt you feel in your chest. “Did you tell anyone? Your wife?”

You see him now, blonde hair slicked back and deep-set eyes. He shakes his head. “Nope. Not even my wife.”

“She’ll be proud, you know.”

“I know...So will your mom. Jesus, you’re gonna be the first woman on—”

Wake up.

“—Is she dead?”

The voice is familiar. It pulls you back to reality but right now, your eyes are too heavy. Doubt is the first emotion that waves through your brain before the process of pain can even occur—uncertain if you are dead or alive.

You can’t feel your limbs, they are too weak.

Doubt makes the strong weak. Doubt makes you weak.

Maybe, you are dead.

“This is your fault! You’re the one who swung that sword of yours to her head! You’re careless—”

Sword...Sword...Careless? You remember a train, a fight.

“Oh, I’m the one who’s careless? You’re the one who’s drunk!”

Drunk...Who was drunk?

Then, your voice echoes in your head, images of a certain brunette with a deep frown. He called you a mewling quim. You quoted Hávamál. You then left him and wandered through the other cabins of the train. He blew his cover. He got you into a fight.

Loki. Loki Laufeyson.

Son of a bitch.

Your eyes are wide open now. All you see are the faces of Loki and Sylvie, looming over you. Just two floating heads. Then, the pain arrives, coursing through the entire back of your head. You wince in immediate reaction and the floating heads turn to you in an instant.

What a way to wake up from a concussion.

You remember everything now, but you certainly don’t recall being on the outside of the train. Must have gotten thrown out. The thought angers you, irritation practically boiling to the brim. Yet, it’s your fault. You hadn't thought to babysit the very person you wish were dead. As your palm grips onto the dirt beneath, muscling all strength left to lift yourself. Your head feels light and heavy all at once. Not good.

“Are you alright?” is the question that flies from Loki’s lips, tinged with an emotion you never knew he had for another but himself—worry. Whether selfless or selfish, you wish to ignore the complexity of Loki’s reactions and possible change in character, especially towards you. Ever since you stepped foot on Lamentis, all you felt was pain. You have never been injured so much within the last few hours than in your entire life and weirdly, you feel fine.

Sylvie is quick to stand, watching the two of you work in tandem. His grip finds the curve of your shoulders as you stick your hand out to grip him by the bicep. At your touch, you notice how his arm stiffens ever so slightly. You don’t say anything.

Some things about Loki are best left unknown and unanswered.

Today is filled with a lot of getting off the ground in the most unceremonious way possible.

A deep exhale leaves your lips, wisps of your hair drifting with the brutal breeze from your nostrils. Beads of sweat trail along the curve of your forehead and the back of your neck. Some entangled with the strands of your hair. Your hands feel clammy and dirty but you run them to push your hair back and away from your face anyway.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling yourself away from his touch.

You finally get a good look at the two. Loki looks like complete shit but Sylvie manages to maintain the regalness to the locks of her hair despite her opposing overall behavior. It’s the Asgardian blood coursing through her veins. You cannot hide your ancestors' blood. It’s hard to believe the two are the same—one being. Yet, it's believable when you’re angry at the two of them.

The two messed up your career, that’s why.

Unbothered and uncivilized. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.

As your eyes shift along the train tracks that meander along a gorge with steep rocky walls that leer above it, you catch sight of a spark by your feet, glinting under the iridescent sky.

It’s the TemPad, shattered into pieces; you recognize the color gold of its border.

Your eyes grow wide, mouth agape. You don’t even feel angry anymore, it’s more than that. You stick out your hand to gesture towards the destroyed device, “Is that—Is that the TemPad?” you ask as your other hand lifts to hold the side of your head. “Or am I just seeing things from the concussion?”

Sylvie is the one to speak. “It’s not the concussion.”

You suddenly feel like you’re burning.

If it were possible, you could have instantly killed him with a look.

“You. You killed us!” you step closer to him and for a moment, Loki doesn’t exactly know what to do. “So, it’s my fault then? You were the one who left me alone in the lounge.” are the words that leave his lips. Completely useless. Trying to diffuse the tension is the exact opposite of what he does.

His silver tongue isn’t so shiny and silver anymore.

You don’t pull your blow this time. Your palm strikes his cheek, rocking his head to the side. Your hand is oddly soft. Loki winces and you stand your ground. “You’re a jerk and an asshole. You’ve probably been called that for all your life and yet, here you are. Still, the most insensitive and pathetic man I’ve ever met,” you articulate your words with frustration and rage. You don’t raise your voice like before, it’s low and frightfully intimidating. “And I’m not your babysitter.”

—

Battles, ruination, and fracas gave a sense of familiarity to Sylvie in a time of an impending apocalypse. When worlds end, benevolence is resolute. The tragedy of the end of lost souls—afraid to die. But as daunting as the apocalypse is, the beauty of their souls finally returning to the universe protrudes amongst the debris and misery.

She sees herself in the two of you, as much as she doesn’t identify as a Loki anymore, and her hatred towards the TVA. You have a temper and he doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

You’re mysterious in an almost enchanting way and possibly significant as you seemed to be at first glance. Sylvie is highly curious about you.

You don’t stray too far from the group, only to find rest by the edge of a pit made by a crashing meteor. You sit with your back turned against the very two beings you distrust as you watch the border where the bustling city of Shuroo is based. Your guard is down and you don’t care at this point. Everyone is about to die anyway.

Sylvie’s gaze finds Loki who seems to be only watching the back of your still figure, eyes glinting with an emotion unknown to her. Possibly regret? Sylvie doesn’t know what regret looks like. But fear and anger, she feels it radiating from you. She knows it. Something tells her you’re not solely angry at her and Loki.

She finds herself drifting closer to you. You don’t move. She cautiously settles beside you. “You’re not hiding a knife somewhere, aren’t you?”

You merely scoff, caressing your head, “You’re the one to say.”

Sylvie blinks. Fair enough.

Silence. Sylvie’s eyes shift to the handkerchief tied around your arm, stained with blood. “How’s the arm?”

You hum. “Surprisingly, fine.”

Oh, Sylvie knows it’s fine. She knows what Loki did. She decides not to mention the scratch she made across your cheek.

“Did the slap make you feel better?”

The question is hinted at near sarcasm, but genuinely, she wants to know.

“Yes, it did. You should try it sometime.”

She simply hums. “I would have but you beat me to it.”

A turn of your lips as they curve into a small smile. Sylvie watches with an odd sense of satisfaction. “You know, I’m still mad at you. For what you did to me.” Your words are slow. You find yourself swallowing. “But it’s nothing compared to what the TVA did to you.”

Empathy. Is this what empathy feels like? The moment when someone finally understands what it’s like to be alone for so long. Your lives are different but they reflect in certain ways. You have had your fair share of living in constant fear and constantly running. Sylvie finds herself wanting to tell you that she hadn’t simply pushed you into Sakaar. When it’s a mission, things are never accidental. She always has a plan.

Yet, she chooses not to say anything.

You speak again but merely whisper, fidgeting with your fingers, “Before Sakaar—did you enchant me?”

It's as if you're reading her mind.

“Are you seeing things?”

After a pause, the fidgeting stops.

“I’ve seen things all my life, images. Brief and insignificant. But ever since I was in Sakaar, it’s gotten a lot harder to differentiate a dream and a memory.”

“That’s because they aren’t dreams.”

Your hardened gaze finds hers for a brief moment, nearly growing wide at her words but in an instant, your guard is up once you hear the shuffling of feet behind you where Loki lingers. The subject is dropped immediately. He meets Sylvie’s gaze, the two share a knowing look.

Your anger is provoked and well deserved and yet, the last thing he wants is to be your enemy. Loki doesn’t know why. He has lived a life full of them.

You’re different.

He stills, wondering if you’re going to lash out at him again but when he notices your slow breaths, he decides to sit next to you anyway, awkward glances to you in his periphery. A deep sigh escapes his lips, fiddling with his fingers. “What now?”

Sylvie is the one to answer. “I don’t know. You broke the TemPad.”

“Well—”

“And that planet is about to crash into us.”

Loki looks up at the nearing planet of Lamentis. He blinks. “Well, yes, but—”

“Yes, but what?”

“Well, the entire moon is destroyed, right?”

Sylvie is trying to suppress your growing annoyance. “Yep. And everyone on it is killed.”

But Loki pesters on. “Including us.”

She raises her voice. “Yes, including us.” Loki glances at you momentarily. A pause. He furrows his brows in thought.

“What about the ark?”

“The ark never leaves because it's destroyed.”

Suddenly, an epiphany, his eyes light up. He turns to you and Sylvie, “Never had us on it.”

You suddenly scoff at his words. “Are you suggesting we hijack the ark and make sure it gets off this moon?” You turn to him to only spot a vague smile playing upon his lips. He nods in return. “Sounds like a good idea to me, Agent.”

You merely blink, watching the way his eyes shift across your face. First, you’re struck with uncertainty. It’s a risk, a huge one but you know, risks are meant to be uncertain. Risks are also vital in success. Hesitation, doubt—they make you weak. This time, you want to be strong. Strong enough for one last push to save your life.

“Okay.” is what you say, your expression reflecting his.

For the first time, since he took your hand in Sakaar, you’re starting to trust him.

—

The walk to Shuroo seemed endless. You trail behind the two, feeling like you’re about to suffocate.

“—To preserve the connection, I have to create a fantasy from their memories.”

Loki and Sylvie had been conversing about the science and functions of enchantment in a rather surprisingly calm manner. Loki hums, amused by her elucidation. “And you call me a magician.”

Her expression is unchanged as she continues to trudge alongside Loki, ignoring his previous statement. “That young soldier from the TVA, her mind was messed up. Everything clouded. I had to pull a memory from hundreds of years prior...before she even fought for them.”

Loki halts abruptly in his step, hand flying to grab Sylvie’s arm. “What? What'd you say? Before she joined the TVA?”

Sylvie blinks. “Yeah. She was just a regular person on Earth.”

His mind starts to reel, face muddled with confusion. “I was told that everyone who works for the TVA was created by the Time-Keepers.”

“That's ridiculous. They're all variants, just like us. Including her.” Sylvie gestures discreetly to you who has stopped to take a breather, hands on your hips as you blink up to the sky.

You, Mobius, all of them. All variants.

“They don't know that. She doesn’t know that.” he breathes a terrified expression.

Sylvie looks at you from afar. You’re now looking at them with a bewildered expression. “What?” you call out, voice echoing through the wide area, in a somewhat defensive tone.

She turns to Loki once more, voice nearly faltering. “I have a feeling she already knows it.”

—

Loki doesn’t realize the unfamiliarity of hopelessness. Throughout his life, he was constantly surrounded by those with unfaltering determination—His brother, family, friends who were warriors, The Avengers.

Never was it known that he would see it burning in your eyes as they reflect the growing fire of the Ark, crumbling down, tongues of fire engulfing it whole before you. His heart burns with it as Shuroo falls quiet—only the sounds of the metallic crashing of the disintegrating parts of the ship falling from above and the screams of the rich and deemed worthy to live. Every Lamentian still alive held their breath, a moment's silence for their lives must end. Everything must end.

So close yet so far.

Sylvie is gone by the minute as the city starts to descend in terror and panic. He stands behind your still form, just watching your only chance of making it out, swallowed by its own billowing smoke. He reaches out for you, tugging you by the sleeve. “We should leave,” he says with a sudden sense to protect you. There isn’t much to do at this point. It doesn't matter if you are hit by the falling pieces of the Ark because you are all going to die anyway.

But he considers it a gesture, as insignificant and small it is. The least he could do is to distract you from the end, whether for a mere second or minutes.

“I know things haven’t been the best between us and I concede I bring out the worst in you, but I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You turn to Loki with his sudden words. He watches the way your expression softens so gracefully, face adorned with gashes and wounds. Your mouth twitches as you respond with a gentle voice. “I forgive you.”

Three words. Very powerful words.

His heart skips a beat.

You find Sylvie at the brink of the city, sitting on a stretched slab of rock amongst the dirt, watching the horizon where the planet starts to meet the moon. Loki still has his hand around your arm, but you don’t complain. It’s your only source of support at the moment. It’s an unconscious move, but everything about it feels right when the two of you settle beside her, shoulders brushing against each other. It only makes sense to want to feel the nearness, the closeness of another as the light at the end of the tunnel begins to dim.

It’s impending. It’s scary.

“I remember Asgard.”

Sylvie’s voice trembles, her eyes are somber.

“Not much, but I remember. My home, my people, my life. Then, the TVA showed up, erased my reality, and took me, prisoner. I was just a child.”

You turn to her, guilt bubbling in your chest, but you don’t say anything. You let her speak. It’s only right.

“I escaped.” she breathes, blinking the brimming tears in her eyes away. ”Stole a TemPad and I ran for a long, long time, which really sucked. Everywhere and every-when I went, it caused a Nexus event.”

Sylvie turns to you with a melancholic gaze. “The universe wants to break free, so it manifests chaos. Like me being born the Goddess of Mischief. But to you and the TVA, I’m not supposed to exist.”

For so long, you hadn’t realized the consequences of your work at the TVA. You believed you were right. That erasing, resetting realities were meant to be. You cannot comprehend how it only occurred to you to question the authority of the Time-Keepers over time itself after Sakaar. All those years of being ignorant and selfish. You hadn’t realized. You never did.

But now you know.

Sylvie continues, gaze shifting away from you. “I figured out where to hide. And so that's where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds. Now...that's where I'll die.”

Then, silence. It sits heavily between the three of you.

“The universe—isn’t she beautiful?” Your voice is soft, eyes trained on the horizon—a fleet of asteroids, they reflect the end. But they seem to dance to the silence of the apocalypse, drifting across the stratosphere, lining the firmament. Loki’s gaze shifts to you, training on every curve of your face and the tears slipping down your cheeks. He agrees, the universe is beautiful.

You’re beautiful.

“She brings turmoil, agony, and destruction but in all her flaws, there’s beauty in her very existence.”

Your hands find Sylvie and Loki’s hands, holding on to them tightly as you fight the wavering of your voice.

“You...Both of you might be the epitome of chaos but you must know that you have such beautiful souls. All of us, we're her children...and if she is beautiful, so are we. And the Universe is always right. If she created you then we are wrong.”

Sylvie’s face is soft. Loki squeezes your hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I should have known from the start...that the TVA was lying to all of us. I should have questioned. I should have doubted—”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” she says, smiling with saddened eyes.

You laugh. You don’t know why, but you do. Maybe, it’s because you know you are a part of the problem anyway, even if you were just doing your job.

You find Loki’s gaze that’s already on you. You sigh and speak through a whisper. “I’m sorry for slapping you.”

His lips curve into a grin, eyes crinkling like your own. “It was well deserved, but I forgive you.”

Fingers entangled with the hands of two unlikely people, you finally realize what it truly feels like to not be alone. To be in the company of someone you want to be with.

“Now long now.” Those three words leave the very lips of Sylvie and your chest feels like it’s about to collapse.

You never knew you were afraid of death, yet here you are—terrified.

The ground shakes beneath you. It’s dark and there’s fire everywhere. A meteor collides to the ground just across the way, it sends smoke billowing to its surroundings faster than you can blink.

Even in the last seconds of your life, you have doubts remaining. What if the universe isn’t always right?

Then, through the growing dust, you see a spark, like lightning. A glint of a figure, standing before you. White, pure, and serene. You’re standing now, staring ahead. Sylvie and Loki cease to exist in your mind as they gaze at you with bewilderment. They anxiously call you by your name but you don’t hear it. There’s only silence now, you don’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears.

A voice, she speaks with dignity. A voice so familiar.

“Doubt makes the strong weak, my child.”

Then, you hear it. A soft hum—a Time Door glows warmth amid your impending death.

Suddenly, she’s gone.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

@kashasenpai

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[zmediaoutlet]

Hi! This is a bit late, but if you're still doing the fic writer ask meme, I was wondering about The Gardener? It's one of my favorite stories period (it's just beautiful and hurts my heart to read every time), so if you wanted to it would be cool to hear your thoughts on 13/14/25?

oh boy, this is what I get for letting my askbox sit for a long time. Let me dig up those qs again -- and thank you for saying it's one of your favorite fics, that's very nice of you to say --

the gardener

13. Easiest scene to write?

This one was weirdly easy to start. I got the idea and the image of the greenhouse kind of wouldn't let me go, and I just... sat down and wrote the first couple thousand words in one sitting. Basically crying the whole time, lol. So that part wasn't easy, I guess, but... Dean miserable and just doing what he can to put one foot in front of the other is pretty easy territory for me. I can access that emotional space just... immediately. So all of that stuff pretty much was first day/first draft/unedited, I think.

14. Hardest scene to write?

...Here's where I admit that I didn't really have a plan for where the fic would go after that easy beginning. I knew that the act of growing things for a year was some kind of ~spell that would bring Sam back (nb: apparently some people think that Dean actually dies at the end and when he wakes up he's with Sam in heaven, and that's not contravened by the details so -- have at that explanation, friends!), but I didn't actually know the details, or -- and this part is key -- how Dean even... ended up trying it in the first place. The fic sat un-worked on for a while for that reason (aside from the usual crisis of "ugh, this is probably stupid and pointless!" that afflicts me with every fic that takes longer than a day to write). I eventually landed on the not-really-an-explanation explanation from Billie, but tbh I still don't actually like that solution. The premise is extremely tenuous, but I suppose if you're willing to buy it then the rest of the fic can carry you along. And, hell, I accidentally presupposed canon a little bit, so... success. :)

25. Favorite thing about the fic -- this is your permission to brag!

Just the language really. I mean even if you consider the fic pointless or the premise faulty I hope some of the language would be nice. There's this one sentence I'll try to hunt down, which I remember just being glad about after I wrote it. ...Oh yeah, here it is:

Dean watches him and feels keenly how his heart thuds in his throat like it's trying to beat right out of his body and he also feels, in the vivid knowing of dreams where the knowing comes delivered like a book falling open to the right page, that he is dead too and that everything is ended, and yet simultaneously that things will be all right, after all, and he looks at Sam and then he opens his eyes into the humid hour of dawn with his back aching and the smell of pollen up his nose, and he sneezes, and knocks over the mug of coffee, and that odd feeling stays with him all day, and for days after.

Kind of simple. But I like the dreamy drag-along nature of how the clauses work, the times when maybe there should be a comma but I refuse it, etc. I'd been binge-watching Deadwood while writing this story and some of the indulgence of the language clearly influenced the ol' internal wordbank, or at least the syntax-bank. It was fun to collide that with Dean's day-to-day practicalities.

[sunnys-rewatch-blog]

S2, E24

"If These Dolls Could Talk"

How does Alison know Spencer just found out about Jason? She's also talking to Spencer like she doesn't know they think she's dead. Why is Spencer talking to her like they don't think she's dead??? Just a casual update in the middle of the night.

These characters must have some very odd sleep tendencies if they can't tell for sure if they woke up in the middle of the night...that was a very lucid and clear conversation to be having at a time when your dream/reality barrier is blurred. I think it might be a common phenomenon for people with ADHD to confuse their dreams with reality- I certainly do, from time to time- and Spencer does canonically have ADHD. I wish "a fuzzy dream-life barrier" was established with her character before now.

Did this phone not have a "silent" mode?

Wait a second...Alison referred to herself as "A.D"??? I really want to believe something more interesting happened, here.

I wonder what this show would have been like if they hadn't stuck to making Jenna an antagonist so hard. These writers in particular would have fumbled it and made it an excruciatingly hard watch, but if they had been competent with the story, I think I would better buy Jenna as a wild-card anti-hero whose storylines tend to overlap with the Liars' and whose decisions can be helpful, harmful, or neutral to the protagonist's goals than Mona. I think they meant for Mona to be the ambiguous, morally gray "frenemy" who makes unpredictable decisions but they didn't do enough with it. Mona is criminally obsessed with being a member of the clique, whereas Jenna would be completely detached from it. It could have added something, in my opinion.

There is no reason for this random, creepy child at the doll store.

This child has surprisingly vivid memories about a weirdly specific thing that happened a year ago. That's pretty sus. A psychic child I would buy. I love that this city is close enough that a bunch of teenagers can easily go there after school but far enough away that Alison just had a completely different identity there.

The way these characters go about trying to get answers really baffles me, sometimes. Melissa was looking for Ian using "she/her" pronouns? Why would Spencer show that to her and then threaten to involve the police? There's no subtlety at all. If they aren't shoving videos in peoples' faces, they're breaking into houses.

Oh my god, the amount of guilt-tripping Ella's trying to do to Aria for calling out her father for something he actually, reasonably did. Poor, poor Byron- being shut up for once in his fucking life! This selfish fucking hothead needs to learn to shut his fucking trap more. They don't take into account how their family was affected by this trauma at all.

"He knew how she died! That was never in the paper!" I'm still pretty sure that was aired on the news, just before it was announced that there may be a killer at large in Rosewood and no one reacted to this news at all.

Man, this doll imagery is fucking epic. This show could have been an awesome YA horror/thriller.

"You're not gonna break up your family to keep us together" so keeping her family together is her job, again?

[simpsiren]

closer to you

lee jeno x reader

main masterlist

the sequel

description. you’re in a 2 year relationship with jaemin. the two of you know very well that you arent each other’s soulmates but you still felt that jaemin was the right one for you. that is until you are celebrating your 2 year anniversary with jaemin that memories of you being with someone else in your so called “past life” starts coming back to you, as if wanting to make you realise that your soulmate is still out there.

genre. soulmate au, strangers to lovers au, fluff and angst

warnings. none? except for the fact that reader becomes violent in their words when they’re stressed i guess

a/n. literally got this idea from the flashback tiktoks thats been appearing in my fyp. like ive seen it so many times that i just had to write about it HAHA alrighty thats all enjoyy :D

when the idea of soulmates was first represented to humans, humans deeply believed in it, and would follow the idea of it religiously to find the one that they are truly meant to be with. however, now in the modern day, the idea of soulmates is slowly disappearing. people still believe that the number engraved on the side of their right foot is the time and date that they’ll meet their soulmates, but people of this generation start ignoring that fact, marrying someone that isnt even their soulmate. it left their actual soulmate to either die alone, or having to force themselves to love and marry someone else other than their soulmate.

and now here you are, surrounded by your friends with jaemin sitting next to you, your boyfriend of two years who’s number on the side of his foot does not match yours.

“blow out the candles already!” you hear johnny screaming. you and jaemin turn to look at each other at the same time, giving a smile before blowing out the two candles on the red velvet cheesecake that signified your two year relationship with jaemin.

you laugh loudly as everyone claps for the two of you. jaemin quickly places a peck on your cheek, making everyone smile widely. “i love you.” jaemin whispers into your ear.

“i love you too.”

“do you really not care who your actually soulmate is? you know very well jaemin isnt yours.” you purse your lips into a thin line as you find jaehyun leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom.

“does it look like i care? who the hell even cares? ill be with who i wanna be! i aint gonna follow some ‘oh you’re destined to be with this guy’ type bullshit.” you giggle to yourself as you took a sip the whiskey in hand, despite already being in a very drunken state.

jaehyun walks over to you and snatches the glass away from you. you whine and beg for it back, but you know all too well that jaehyun is not going to give you what you want. you let out a huff in response.

“my god, evaline. how drunk can you be?” jaehyun takes a seat on the chair that faces your bed, in which you are currently rolling on and mumbling to yourself about god knows what.

jaehyun sighs as he looks at you. he’s been your friend for almost forever yet he still cant get over the fact that no matter how hard he tries to persuade you that jaemin isnt your soulmate, you give zero fucks about it.

“i really hope he comes in your dreams or something. if i can’t convince you, then why isnt the world doing anything about it?” jaehyun whispers to himself, resting his chin on his palm as his elbow is placed on the arm rest of the chair.

you wake up with a sharp pain in your head. you wince as you slowly tried to sit up straight. you rub your eyes and try looking around your room. everything is normal, except for the fact that jaehyun is sleeping on your chair. you shrug your shoulders as you let out a long sigh and stare at the door in front of you, spacing out for a little. after at least five minutes of you doing nothing and staring off into who knows what, you gather up your strength to stand up from your bed. you stagger your way over to jaehyun.

“jae, wake up already. make me something to sober up- ouch!”

your foot suddenly hurt, making you stumble back and fall onto the floor. you flinched in fear when you realise the number on your foot is glowing. you scream in pain as you feel as though something thin and sharp is constantly stabbing your foot. the spinning in your head only made it worse. jaehyun wakes up from all your screaming and drops down on the floor to assist you quickly.

“evaline? eva! what’s wrong? wait why’s it glowing..” jaehyun eyes travel from your scrunched up face to your leg, noticing the number that’s glowing.

suddenly, your vision became blurry. you lost sight of what’s happening around you. you dont see your room and jaehyun in front of you anymore. you struggled as you try to squint your eyes to get your vision to be clear. it took awhile for your vision to come back. and when it did, something wasnt right.

it was like you were having a flashback. a flashback to a time you were unfamiliar with. you didn’t remember experiencing it at all. but the flasback looked like memories that you feel a sudden strong connection with.

the flashback was vivid. you couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. you saw a guy, estimated to be around your age, who’s smiling widely till his eyes form a thin line and holding up a polaroid camera to your point of view. you heard him laugh as snaps a picture and the camera’s flash shined your view. you soon focused your vision again onto the guy. he’s waiting for the film to develop. and that’s all you saw. a small snippet of a far distant memory which you arent even sure if it happened.

after that, you snapped out of your odd trance. you feel jaehyun shaking your shoulders with the look of extreme concern on your face. you bring your hand up to your head and scratch it slowly as you tilt your head in awe. jaehyun stops his actions as looks at you wierdly.

“what the fuck did i just experience?” you mumble to yourself, trying to process what you just went through. you look up from the floor to see jaehyun blinking his eyes rapidly.

“you saw what?”

you were this close to slapping jaehyun in the face.

“how many times do i have to fucking repeat myself?! i got a flashback of a memory of some random dude that i dont even know about!”

jaehyun’s mouth remains open in shock and confusion. it took him a few seconds to process your words. and when it did, he places both his hands on the table.

“its a sign.” your forehead creases as you look at him weirdly.

“the fuck you just say?” you pick up your fork and stab it into your freshly cooked fried chicken meal.

“is this the first time you experience it?” jaehyun asks you as he takes a sip of water. you took a moment to think about it.

“yeah it is.” you breathe out. jaehyun only nodded his head. he starts thinking about what he wished for that night had something to do with what happened to you.

“you know what? forget it. i need to meet up with jaemin for our date. ill see you around.” you finish what’s left on your plate, waving to jaehyun before leaving the restaurant.

jaehyun watches your back as you slowly disappear into the distance. “it cant be... can it?” jaehyun shakes his head and continues eating.

“hey, babe. how was lunch with jaehyun?” jaemin wraps his arm around your waist as he leans down to peck your lips.

“it was good. let’s get ice cream.” you give off a wide smile and dragged jaemin to the famous ice cream shop that you were dying to try.

by the time you were halfway to finishing your ice cream, it was already 8pm. you’re weekly ice cream date with jaemin never fails to be extended as your chats with him grow longer and longer with every date.

as jaemin was talking, your mind goes back to the time you had that odd flashback. you wonder what it meant, or whats the significance of it. why did that suddenly happen to you? what can you do to make it go away? because for all you know, you have everything you need right here, in front of you. you had jaemin.

“eva? hello~?” jaemin waves his hand in front of you to snap you back into reality. you shake your head vigorously. “oh shit im sorry jaemin what did you say?” jaemin smiles softly as he repeats over what he say.

it was about 10pm and you decided it was finally time to go home. you would have taken the train alone but jaemin insisted on accompanying you home and going back by himself after. you and jaemin were walking down the street that will lead to your apartment when jaemin sudden opens his mouth to ask you something.

“did you ever believe about the soulmate thing?” you stop walking and turn your body to face jaemin. jaemin does the same, shoving his hands in his pockets.

you shrug your shoulder and placed your weight on one leg. “i used to, but i slowly started to think it was ridiculous and that i should be able to love who i want, not someone im destined to be with.” you reply, slowly reaching your hand out to run your hand through jaemin’s hair. he smiles at your touch and pulls you in with your other arm, hugging you gently.

“im glad to be the one that you love, despite the fact that im not who you’re destined to be with.” jaemin strokes your hair and digs his head into the crook of your neck. you rub his back slowly. “me too.” you kiss jaemin on the cheek and pull away, smiling softly. “come on, we’re almost at my apartment.” your hands trailed down to meet jaemin’s, interlocking your fingers with his and you both continued walking down the long street.

however, for the first time, it felt as though jaemin’s hand didn’t sit right with yours, like his hand didnt belong to fit in yours. you look down at the interlocking hands. you never felt this way before. why did it occur to you only now?

“something on your mind, eva?” you hear jaemin ask. you shot your gaze up from your jaemin’s hand to his eyes, shaking your head as you faked a smile.

weird

a week has passed since that weird encounter of yours. you couldn’t get it out of your head. every hour of the day you’ll spare a few minutes thinking about it. why did you feel so connected to it? you felt eager to know about what i meant. why did a few seconds of experiencing a distant memory would be etched into your mind as you constantly replay what you saw that time?

you found it funny how you were already so deep in your thoughts early in the morning. you lay in bed looking through your social medias for awhile before getting out of bed to head to the living room.

you see jaehyun sitting on the couch, immensely concentrated on whatever’s on the television screen. you take a seat beside jaehyun, looking down, you see him munching on a bowl of popcorn.

“popcorn for breakfast. really?” you raise an eyebrow as jaehyun nods his head and offers the bowl. you take it regardless of your comment and stuffed popcorn in your mouth.

“you didn’t shower yet?” jaehyun asks. you only shrug in reply. jaehyun looks at you with a disguested look.

“i bet you didn’t shower either, now did you?” jaehyun kept quiet as his eyes widened yet still glued onto the screem. you observed his reaction and scoff, rolling your eyes. “idiot.” jaehyun glances at you and chukles, reaching out to take a handful of popcorn.

“what are you even watching?”

“a movie that i didn’t finish last night.” that explains the popcorn then.

you focus your mind on the movie, despite not knowing what it’s about. everything seemed normal until you see a couple suddenly come on screen. they’re apparently at a amusement park.

almost instantly, you lost sight of your surroundings. oh no.. it’s happening again. you shut your eyes tightly as your vision became blurry once again. you opened your eyes widely to find yourself at an amusement park. a flashback is now occuring, this time it was different.

the flashback. it wasnt a memory you’re unfamiliar with. its jaemin. you see jaemin come into view. it looked like you were taken back to your third date where jaemin brought you to an amusement park. you see him running in front of you happily. jaemin was about to turn around, and you remembered that exactly after that he smiled at you. but he doesn’t. you realise that its not even jaemin.

the one you’re seeing now is the guy from your previous flashback. the polaroid guy. he smiled the exact same way he did when he took the picture of you in the flashback. the guy reaches out to take your hand and you’re being pulled towards him. why does it feel like you’ve seen him somewhere? or maybe you haven’t, but feel like you would some time in the future.

“eva? god, evaline! wake up please!” you hear jaehyun’s voice.

“did it happened agai-“

“it happened again.”

you look around. everything was back to normal. you look at jaehyun. but his eyes were fixated on your foot, he looks shocked. you slowly tilt your head down to look at the number on your right foot. it changed. the number.. reshuffled themselves?

“you’re seeing that too right..?”

you nod your head slowly. its getting more weird. the number on your foot said that you’ll meet your “soulmate” on february 12th, 2020 at 7:06pm. but now, it changed itself to become december 6th, 2020 at 2:19am.

basically it went from 12.02.2020 19:06 to 06.12.2020 02:19

“did i space out again?” you look up at jaehyun as he nod slowly, still looking at your foot in shock. you couldn’t blame him. what happen? did it somehow extended the time you’re about to meet your soulmate? why did it happen? what does it mean?

you told jaehyun what happen. and he almost fainted. you let out a long sigh.

“im telling you its a sign. probably the guy you’re seeing is your soulmate.” jaehyun says lazily and he muched on some strawberry pocky.

“then why was jaemin in the flashback too? isnt it weird?” jaehyun nods his head quickly. he puts down the pack of pocky on his lap and blinks a couple of times. you see the gears turning in his head as you assume that he’s trying to come up with an explanation.

“maybe jaemin’s tied to the guy? like maybe jaemin knows him. or the dude’s from your past life and somehow jaemin is representing the guy in your present life.” jaehyun looks down to see his pocky was stolen from you. you nod your head and you continuously stuffed each stick into your mouth and eating them. “urgh i dont fucking know what to do about this!” you groan in frustration. suddenly, something hits you.

“wait. what’s today’s date?”

jaehyun lifts his phone up to check. “30th november. why?” jaehyun asks. “oh wait.”

“you’re telling me i have a full week until i meet my so called soulmate that i dont even know where ill meet him?!”

you scoff in disbelief. jaehyun doesnt respond, only staring at your face like he’s seen a ghost.

“can i somehow break someone’s neck and slam it on the wall for like i dont know, 5 hours?!”

no reply from jaehyun once again.

“oh for fuck’s sake i cant do this! im heading to johnny’s tea shop for my depression tea. meet me there if you want, i’ll probably be there the whole day as my head constantly spins.”

you quickly got up from the couch and get ready. jaehyun sees you coming out of your room with a hoodie and plain wide legged jeans. you only grab your phone and keys and waved jaehyun goodbye before leaving the apartment. jaehyun sighs.

“i might have set her temper circuit short.” jaehyun whispers to himself and sighs, getting off the couch as well to head over to johnny’s tea shop. “literally could have drove her there but oh well.”

when you enter the shop, johnny face lit up with a huge smile. he runs over to hug you but his smile soon fades away and into a confused look when he sees how pissed you look.

“that’s very... interesting.” johnny comments. you sigh and nod, fiddling with the teaspoon in your drink. “yeah well its not going to be fun once jaemin knows.” johnny stops in his actions and looks up at you. your eyes glanced at johnny before tilting your head up from the drink that wrapped around your hands.

“yes i haven’t told jaemin. i didn’t think it meant anything at first but now...”

“you have to tell him! soon! its a sign!” johnny exclaims. you smacked your hand onto your forehead lightly. “i’ve heard that phrase countless of times by jaehyun and now you too? can you please explain?” you whine, scratching your head vigorously as you argrily take a sip of tea.

you were stressed, very stressed. life was going so well until this happened. you dont know who the mystery guy is. you dont know why he’s “memories” with you suddenly come back, especially when you’re in a really intimate relationship with jaemin. the same question keeps repeating in your head over and over each day and it gets more stressful when you try to think of an answer for them.

“no no listen. it happened to my relative. she was 3 months away from marrying her boyfriend who’s number doesnt match hers. and then she started getting weird flashbacks and she said that the number on her foot changed so that she wouldn’t miss a chance to meet her soulmate in the future instead of the past. and the so called memories? they’re memories that you’ll make with your soulmate once you meet them. the world is trying to make you realise that the guy in your flashbacks is your soulmate and not jaemin.”

you kept silent. so what jaehyun said was right. it was a sign to encourage you to find your real soulmate instead of settling for the one you arent meant to be with. you let out a sigh of relief as you finally know the background information to your whole situation.

“that’s a lot to take in.. how am i suppose to tell jaemin?” you frown as you look out the window. you love jaemin, very much. but to be honest, for the whole 2 years of your relationship with him, everything felt perfect, yet something was off. you never managed to pin point what, until now.

“oh i texted him just now when you were talking to me and he’s coming since he wants to see you.” great. you arent mentally prepared to tell jaemin yet and he’s going to arrive here in 15 minutes.

“evaline! johnny texted me saying you were here and i immediately rushed over.” jaemin comes up from behind and kisses your cheek. you purse your lips into a thin line and you look to johnny leaving his seat. he nods his head, in a way to give you confidence to tell jaemin about the whole ordeal.

“jaemin.. i have to tell you something.” when jaemin takes the seat where johnny sat, you reach your hand out to grab his, slowly soothing your thumb over his skin. “mhm yeah what?” you look up from his hand to his face.

“ive been getting um.. signs lately. flashbacks. jaehyun told me that the guy, who’s always the main subject of my flashbacks could be my soulmate. and i might be meeting him soon, on 6th december.” you whisper to him, biting your lip.

jaemin swallows his own saliva, blinking at you a few times as he tries to process what you said. he lets out a long sigh and painfully puts on a soft smile.

“i knew it was going to happen to one of us sooner. ive heard about the flashbacks. its bound to happen sooner or later.” you nod your head in response.

“im sorry, jaemin. i love you very much-“

“its fine. i understand. im glad the world made you realise that you’re soulmate is still wondering around somewhere, and that it isnt me. im happy i got to spend 2 years loving you.. it made me feel good.” you interlocked your fingers with his, smiling softly before letting go.

you could tell jaemin was hurt. like a knife was stabbed into his heart. you see it behind his smile, his eyes. you knew him all too well.

“we’ll still be friends. and i hope you’re soulmate will come to you.”

jaemin only nods. you lean in and give one last passionate kiss on the cheek before hearing the bell above the door ringing, and noticing that jaehyun has arrived.

december 3rd, 2020. you’re three days away to meeting your soulmate. where? you werent sure.

“good morning, evaline.” you hear jaehyun say. you just got out of bed and you were walking to the kitchen when you see what jaehyun was doing. he’s reading a book. your vision went blank.

its another flashback. you start to mentally prepare yourself as yoh want to absorb as much information as possible on your soulmate in the small portion of the memories.

“the book’s is interesting.” you’re hearing your soulmates voice. you try to figure out if you’ve heard it or not, but shake it out of your head when yoh remember your goal of gathering information. you registered the tone of his voice.

he’s sitting on a bed with round gold glasses on, in his pajamas.

your soulmate laughs. the same way he did the first time. he turns the book to you and it showed his phone betweem the pages of the book, resting there. “just joking!” you hear him say. you take a look at the wallpaper of your soulmate’s lockscreen. it was a picture of him kissing your cheek. it looked oddly the same as the picture you and jaemin once took together. however, there was a text above the picture. evaline heather and lee jeno

lee jeno. that’s the name of your soulmate.

december 5th, 2020. you’re starting to mentally prepare yourself. you dont know where you’re about to meet him. you tried coming up with all possibilities. to be frank, you were more excited about whether the places you thought of might be the place you meet your soulmate rather than being nervous.

the three flashbacks you had. it felt all too familiar. like you’ve known this lee jeno person forever. you feel the connection each time.

when the clock strikes 12am, your mind unknowingly decides to go to the park. the park where you and jaemin first met. you dont know why. it felt like your body was urging you to go there. you lazily got ready and headed out the door, of course you told jaehyun about your outing before leaving the apartment.

you had your hands shoved into your pockets with your hoodie on as you yawned. you breathed in the night air, admiring it dearly. when you reached the park, a quick glance at your phone told you that its 2am. you sigh and took a seat on the bench mindlessly after walking around the park.

you sat there for a few minutes, looking up into the sky and staring off into the distance. suddenly, you felt a presence next to you. you turn your head over to see a guy.

“you seemed pretty lonely so i brought ice cream-“

that voice.

“what’s your name?” you interrupt

the guy pauses and smiles. his face, his smile. its just like the one in your flashback.

“lee jeno. you?”

you didn’t reply. its him. he’s your soulmate, he’s here.

“why does it feel like ive known you for a very long time..?” you slowly started to ask as your eyes looked at him up and down.

jeno chuckles. “maybe..” you see jeno taking off his slipper on his right foot and lifting up his foot. you see the exact number that’s engraved on your foot.

“im your soulmate.”

[kookiecrumb]

Hallooo! Author!

Erm, I was scrolling through your acc hehe, I'm a new follower like minutes or an hour ago. And stumbled upon where you shared about having a dream with jk. LIKE I'VE BEEN BEING BOTHERED BY MY CONSTANT DREAMS WITH HOSEOK! Like it's not an ordinary one time dream, but it's been weeks and up until now, he'd still be lingering in my sleep.

Idk, it's been literally days that I've been constantly dreaming of him walking with a guy in this specific street, probably fetching another guy who I guess they three would be hanging out.

Buy yeah, I just wanted to have a talk with Hoseok (even for a minute) or with anybody that can contact him, just so I can tell him that; after the 3rd block they'd be passing, they must not go to the left way! That they must watch where they're going!

Like literally every sleep, every dream there would be a glimpse of that same scenario. And as the days goes by, the scenario unfolds specific details that now I've already memorize such each. And as the days go by, it becomes heavy and vivid. That along the street, they would pass this pot shop, where there's a lady standing, wearing a blue clip and plaid blouse. And that Hoseok and the guy his with would laugh seeing the dog pee weirdly on a brown new painted bench with a handprint (of a child?). Then the guy his with is gonna throw his half eaten bar (idk what brand or what it is but I do think he must've thrown it because he got a bad one, a bad bar) on the green garbage where there's a banana peel lying on the end of it. And that day is a bit cloudy, I'm feeling it would rain. Then after a kind of research I have finally understand what Hoseok is saying on the other person of the phone, saying he must bring the yellow beanie that has this specific marker (not sure abt this, been a long time since I've used the language) stained on the inside. And then they would pass this girl with a curtain bangs (kinda didn't look good at her I'm sorry), wearing a plaid skirt, a very pretty skirt I must say. And she's holding a small box with a somehow brown looking bucket on the other hand.

Oh, geez it's long. But yeah, help? HAHAHA😭

Although, I do have an odd dream with Namjoon. A bit detailed and vivid like J-hope, but a more briefly one. But compared to my other dreams, they gave me an unusual feeling. Like yeah at first I do not take it seriously since it's just a dream. But as it continues... Idk anymore. 😭

—☁️

Ps. Can I be your ☁️ anon, I could change if the emoji is already taken.

You're lucky I interpret dreams.

I know what all of this means and I can help you stop having these dreams.

You're currently in a comfortable position in life. It seems like a perfect time to reflect on your past and manifest a good future.

You're able to take a deep breath and take comfort in the fact that stability is either here or coming. This new stage represents adventure and light.

Maybe because it is summer, you feel like going outside more or connecting with new people but you're unsure how. Hoseok represents you moving towards good social withstanding. You're now in somebody's favor. You must take advantage of the opportunities presented to you in order to socialize.

You already have achieved one of your life goals. You must now go after the other with positivity.

However, you're anxious about an impending situation that might be on the horizon. You're worried that if you mess up while walking down this life path, you'll never be able to achieve that big social goal.

Perhaps you're a musician or an entertainer. Maybe your ambition is to become a public figure or a celebrity. Either way.

The bench represents the mundane. You were raised in an average household that you never truly connected to. The handprint and the pee represent ownership or possessiveness. You glorify or take ownership of this mundaneness nonetheless. It is part of your identity.

That lady is a female figure you've had in your life that inspired your freedom, sensitivity, or womanhood. You've looked up to a teacher for a lot of your life, and she has guided you to better understanding feminine aspects of yourself.

The half eaten bar could represent dissatisfaction with eating or food insecurity, but it very well could also represent just not...being satisfied with sex or food.

Hoseok's phone conversation could mean that you feel like people are withholding information from you. I wouldn't pay too much attention to it though, it seems like something you should not stick your nose in.

As for the girl...she might be you.

:) let me know if this helps.

[okthatsbad]

Bring Me a Dream

(Written for @analogicalweek 2021 ayyy)

Day 3: Nightmares/ Dreams

Word count: 2292

Summary: When Virgil finds himself trapped, he accepts help from an unexpected stranger. But if Virgil doesn’t know this person, why does it feel like they’ve met before?

Read on [Ao3]

---

Virgil is alone in a room full of people. 

Because that’s what they are, right? Though the light is dim and he can’t make out any real details, he can tell that they’re people, just shuffling aimlessly around in the dense fog. And yet… 

Virgil treads closer, keeping his steps light, pulse thrumming in his throat.

The way they move- their jerky, stuttering steps, the way their limbs creak and click with every slight shift of their bodies… It’s enough to make him freeze in place, hoping they wouldn’t notice him. 

He hurriedly takes in his surroundings. Nothing helpful behind him, nowhere in sight where he can hide. He scans for an opening, any clear path to the door he sees on the other side but the only way across is through them. 

His throat tightens at the thought, but that door is the only chance he’s got. He needs to move. Now.

Painstakingly slow, he creeps towards the mob, doing his best to keep his breathing steady, fixing his eyes into the middle distance. He scrunches his nose as he passes by a few stragglers, at the faint sour smell staining the cool air, wondering if it was coming from them or the damp fog.

He’s close enough to touch them now. So many bodies, so many “people”, but it’s only getting colder, only more obvious that he’s the odd one out.

The door is only several yards away.

Gritting his teeth, he pushes through.

He brings his arms close to his chest, trying to make himself smaller, but it isn’t enough to completely avoid them. Cold, pulpy bodies brush against him as he ducks and weaves through the crowd, his skin crawling with every touch. 

Some stop to gaze at him as he passes by. He swallows down the lump in his throat, praying they couldn’t hear the harsh thumping in his chest.

The hairs on his neck stand on end as the creaking and clicking resound in his ears. He thinks he can hear whispers behind him, but he doesn’t dare look back, keeping a steady pace to the exit.

The door is only a few yards away.

He’s in the thick of it now and the smell coats his insides, he could practically chew on it. The freezing fog clings to his shallow breaths, and the whispers only get louder and they’re not moving around him anymore, they’re moving towards him, they’re pressing in on him. 

Heart in his throat, he moves faster. Trembling hands cover his mouth, hiding his traitorous breaths. 

He only just holds back a scream when one of them pushes their face towards him, desperate to get a look.

It only has waxy, gray skin where its eyes should be, only swollen, twisted flesh in place of its mouth. It looks just like a neighbor of his.

He scrambles back, frenzied whispers roaring in his ears and he sees familiar faces everywhere. Neighbors, coworkers, family. Pushing and clawing, crowding to see him.

One of them suddenly grabs him and he just as quickly shoves them away. The body topples over and bursts open at the seams, Virgil’s handprints still visible from where they’ve sunk into its flesh. 

Virgil chokes on the spoiled stench that erupts from it, gagging at the greasy, slimy film it leaves behind on his hands.

Lungs burning, he makes a mad dash for the exit, shoving and pushing away curious hands that try to tug on his clothes and hair. 

He runs but the door is never closer than the few feet away it teases to be.

Another hand manages to snag his elbow and he yanks it back before slamming it right into its chest.

Except it… grunts.

“Please- I’m trying to help,” it wheezes.

He whirls around to see a person, an actual human-looking person, wincing and rubbing their sternum. They reach out again, “I can help you, just come with me.”

Without a second thought, Virgil grabs their hand, warm and sturdy in his own. 

The stranger pulls him close and they run so fast, they’re practically flying. They flee back in the direction Virgil came from, tearing through the crowd of bodies until they’re finally alone.

“We need to leave. Think of a place,” they say.

“A place?” Virgil pants.

“Preferably somewhere you feel safest, got it?” They dig around in their pockets for something.

A kind memory flashes in his mind. “Got it.”

“Good.” They flick what feels like sand into Virgil’s eyes.

Virgil instantly recoils. “What’d you do that for?!” he hisses, rubbing viciously at his eyes.

“Stop,” they gently put their hands on his, “Just blink.”

Virgil growls but obeys anyway. He blinks once, twice, and he’s not in that awful room anymore. 

Instead, he’s in the backyard of his old house, the setting sun still giving enough golden light to warm a fresh night. Fireflies begin to dot the sky, wafting along a rain-scented breeze.

Virgil takes a deep, shuddering breath and crumples to the ground. Closing his eyes, he picks at the dewy grass and takes a moment. 

He’s not running anymore.

He’s not dying.

He’s not going to die.

The grass next to him sways as the stranger kneels down next to him. “Can I touch you?”

Virgil nods and leans into their hand as they steadily stroke his hair.

He’s home.

He’s ok.

He’s safe.

Virgil exhales. He’s home. He’s ok. He’s safe. He’s home. He’s ok. He’s safe.

He opens his eyes and glances at them. They’re looking at him, not with pity or indifference, but with bright eyes, like he’s something worth admiring. “Thanks,” he says hoarsely, his stupid little heart thu-thumping away.

“You’re welcome,” they nod.

They both stay like that for a while, the rustling grass filling in the balmy silence.

Normally, Virgil would’ve been on edge trying to handle a stranger’s presence, hating to sit in awkward silence but unwilling to deal with more awkward small talk.

But this feels so sincerely different from any kind of interaction he’s had with other people. It’s nice. It’s gentle. He looks over the field, feeling light as air. It’s just as beautiful as he remembers it.

He sneaks another glance at them. Their hand is still in his hair, just lightly scratching his scalp and giving him little goosebumps, but their eyes are unfocused, almost glazed over. He doesn’t cozy up to people this fast, he swears, so why now? Why them?

He takes a moment to study them.

Broad shoulders and a firm chest. Dark hair that curls just the slightest bit at the ends. A sharp jawline leading into a strong chin. A straight nose and high cheekbones. Perfectly shaped brows framing vivid eyes. Pouty lips.

Virgil swallows. He sees the bits and pieces of the person next to him, he knows he’s seen them before, but when they’re all put together he can’t recognize the bigger picture.

They run their fingers through his bangs, sweeping them to the side. Virgil is torn between asking them to stop and begging them to never leave. This kind of patience, this type of care is so rarely shown to him these days that he isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He just hopes that if they notice how hot his face is, they wouldn’t mention it. “Are your eyes still bothering you?”

Virgil, still heady from their touch, blinks, “Uh no actually, they’re fine now.”

They stop stroking his hair, much to his dismay, and move to sit criss-cross next to him. “Well they’ve always been fine, this sand can’t harm you and I sincerely doubt you felt any actual pain,” They pull out a simple pouch from their pocket and tie it to their belt loop, “You just seemed to have such a reaction to it, I thought it best to ask after your well-being anyway.”

Virgil rolls his eyes but is trying not to smile, “Oh so you’re calling me extra for having a normal human response to something being thrown into their eyes?”

“Extra?” They tilt their head.

“Yeah extra, like dramatic, y’know?” he shrugs.

“I see. Well, I certainly didn’t say that but I wouldn’t disagree with you if that's what you think,” They say, pushing their glasses up with a wry smile.

“Whatever, you smartass,” Virgil chuckles, “Warn a dude next time, yeah?”

They nod, “I’ll take it into consideration.”

Virgil decides they’re not actually trying to be sarcastic and scoffs, “What’s your name anyway?”

“My name is Logan,” they say simply, except it’s not at all simple because now that Virgil thinks about it, this stranger’s name is Logan because he has Logan’s bright eyes, he has Logan’s sculpted face, he has Logan’s dorky glasses, he has Logan’s ridiculous pouch of blue sand that weirdly smells like berries.

His name is Logan and it has been all this time. Why did he even think to ask this of someone he already knew?

“I… I know you,” Virgil says hesitantly.

“Nice to meet you again Virgil,” Logan smiles.

“H-How do I know you? Why couldn’t I remember you?” Virgil asks.

“You were in trouble, so I came to help,” Logan gazes at the sunset.

“That’s not an answer,” Virgil retorts.

Logan’s brow furrows but says nothing. He keeps his eyes steady on the horizon. It would be dark soon.

Virgil pauses, fiddling with the grass. It looks strangely blurry.

He glances over to Logan. The glowing light dances over his features making him softer, almost ethereal. Virgil wants to know more about him, needs to, but maybe he’s not asking the right questions.

“Do I get into trouble often then?” he mumbles.

Logan sighs, “Unfortunately yes, more often than either of us would like.”

“Do you save me each time?”

Logan shakes his head, “Only if and when it’s necessary.” His eyes gleam, “Though sometimes you manage to get out just fine on your own. It’s an impressive feat to witness truly. It’s not something many people can do.”

“Do you do this with others too?”

“Help them?”

“Talk with them. Take them somewhere nice,” Virgil nods to the scenery. The fireflies are glowing brighter the lower the sun sets.

Logan clears his throat, “No.”

Virgil would like to think he sees a slight flush bloom up on Logan’s cheek but he tells himself it’s just the lighting, even though the sun is completely hidden away now.

He decides to ask again.

“Why don’t I remember you?”

Logan sighs, slumping in on himself slightly, “I’m not designed to be remembered, I’m only meant to assist you. You’ve only been getting a few meager hours of sleep these past couple of nights and what little sleep you have gotten has been abysmal in quality, no doubt because of those nightmares. It’s… troubling to see you in such a state. So I intervened.”

“My sleep? What does that...” Virgil trails off as the puzzle pieces begin to fall in place. The night becomes darker than it naturally should, even the fireflies are gone now, but Logan’s pouch seems to faintly glow.

“I advise you not to overthink this one too much. Most people don’t remember their dreams, it’s perfectly normal,” Logan picks himself up and dusts himself off, signing off the conversation. “Have a good morning, Virgil.”

Instead of saying goodbye, telling him to stay, or even demanding more answers, Virgil changes the script. He lunges forward, snagging the pouch, and grabs a pinch of sand.

“If I don’t remember you, remind me,” Virgil quickly smears it on his palm, “Keep reminding me until the day I can say ‘hi’ to you first. Promise?” His heartbeat feels heavier now, more solid in his chest. It’s so dark now, he can barely see his own hand in front of him.

“Virgil I... y-yes, okay. I promise,” A voice says faintly. 

Virgil blinks once, twice and he wakes up in his bedroom. 

He shifts around to get more comfortable, maybe catch a few more minutes of sleep, but the bleak sunlight filters through the blinds in the most annoying way.

Strangely though, it wasn’t as obnoxious as it’d been the last couple days. Seems like he’d actually gotten some decent sleep this time. 

Sitting up, he wipes his bleary eyes when he notices something that’s very out of place.

A big letter ‘L’ on the palm of his hand, smeared on with what looks like… sand?

It definitely wasn’t there last night, so what the hell happened?

He tilts his hand this way and that, when he catches a hint. Quickly getting up, he holds his hand up to the light. If he shifts it at just the right angle, he can see it gleam a brilliant cobalt blue.

Blue sand?

Blue sand...

A memory surfaces but it just as quickly begins to slip away and Virgil scrambles for a pen and paper before it’s completely gone.

“L” the Sandman

Blue sand in a pouch (smells sweet?) (edible??)

Glasses (does he need those?)

Kinda hot but whatever

Friend...

Virgil tries to sketch out what he thinks L’s face looks like, but with only a fleeting memory to go off of, he isn’t particularly satisfied with the result and the vagueness of it all.

He closes his eyes, trying to go back, trying to remember what they were doing.

They were... outside on some grass… watching a sunset. Virgil had felt… content.

He smiles softly and glances over the list again. It definitely isn’t a lot, but it’s a start and he can only hope he sees “L” soon.

He spends the day eager to go to sleep again, if only for a chance to add more to the list.

---

[n-anon]

….. keep in mind Noah also has powers (yes that is plural, he has more than one) that he’s pretty good at using.

Hand to hand combat, you’d probably stand a decent chance, ngl. Powers involved? Probably less of a chance because you may find your surroundings being not quite what they seemed 👀

I've seen enough vivid dreams of random ass places be it spooky or downright odd to not be scared of that- I'm used to the whole being dragged into a void or a spooky forest or whatever I'm fine. But yeah, Powers I might have difficulty with 🤔maybe I could convince him to fight me hand to hand, I'm pretty persuasive and am weirdly sane and calm in a crisis-

I also don't break or beg due to spite in general.

Maybe I'll give his cupcake bakery a terrible yelp review via several accounts 🤔

[shortsunshineposts]

Dreaming of You - Bang Chan

3.5K words

Fluff

~Finally after so long I finally finished something 😭 I hope Y’all like it!

…….

Y/N

Tossing your bags on the ground you kicked your door closed behind you. You let out a sigh of relief, another long day finally finished. You entered your small apartment discarding your shoes and jacket by the front door, leaving them in a pile on the ground to deal with in the morning. You’re eyes watered as you let out a yawn you had been holding in since lunch time. Who ever knew a remedial office job could be so taxing. Everyday you felt more and more drained from your everyday life. You grabbed a slice of leftover pizza from the fridge and plopped down on your couch, not bothering to heat it up. Cold pizza was better anyways. A strong meow emerged from the pillow underneath your foot as you lounged on the long sofa. Out crawled your feline Mozzie, the long haired tuxedo cat gave you an annoyed headbutt on your foot and sulked off to your bedroom to claim his place at the foot of your bed. You took out your phone and began scrolling through your TikTok feed. Your eyes felt heavy as you watched the trends and fancams scroll by. Time seemed to slow and eventually it felt like it stopped all together as your head fell back on the arm of the couch and your phone dropped from your hand. Your eyes closed and you drifted off to sleep. 

…….

-Where am I- you asked yourself. The world felt hazy and unrecognizable. You lifted your head, confused and dazed. This is a dream, it has to be, you thought. Looking around, you were in a small room, a laptop and briefcase on a table in front of you. Why did this all seem so familiar to you? It was like you’d seen it on T.V. or the internet before. The orange walls and black chairs felt like a distant memory you couldn’t quite reach. The clock in the corner caught your eye. 2:30 am. Damn, that’s late, you thought. You stood up from the black swivel chair you were sitting in and a wave of exhaustion hit you like a bus. Your hands landed on the table in front of you as your vision went blurry. That’s odd, you’d never felt anything like this in a dream before. Was it even possible to feel tired while asleep? You looked down at your hands on the table. That couldn’t be right. Those weren’t your hands. The hands in front of you were male, a few rings adorned their fingers. Panicked, you looked around the room for anything with a reflective surface so you could see yourself. The silver of the briefcase was too dull, and the room had no windows. Suddenly you heard a knock at the door. 

“Hey man it’s late we should go home.” The voice sounded so familiar, but you couldn;t place it. It was weirdly deep, and was that an accent? You opened your mouth to reply-

…….

You jolted up from the couch to find a very impatient Mozzie staring up from your lap waiting to be fed his prompt 7:00 am breakfast. You rubbed your stomach where he had crash landed on you. That was a wild dream, you thought. You’d never experienced something that felt so real before. What was it that people called it? Lucid dreaming? You shrugged your shoulders and turned your attention to your day ahead. You emerged from your couch cocoon and trudged over to the kitchen, Mozzie following close behind. While getting his breakfast you threw on a playlist and began your early 2000’s movie worthy, get ready montage.

…….

CHAN

Chris stumbled into his room, dropped his briefcase on the ground and collapsed on his bed. He buried his face in his pillow, exhaustion hitting him like a brick wall. He could hear a small groan coming from one of his room mates across the room. Rolling over he pulled his comforter up to crash for the night, or whatever was left of it. He needed to stop getting old. It was getting harder and harder to pull these all nighters. His body felt heavy and head hurt from staying up too long. His eyes barely open, he reached over to his phone, 4:00 am it read. He plugged it in and his head dropped back to his pillow.

…….

Chris opened his eyes and found himself staring at a kitchen stove, eggs quickly crisping in front of him. He quickly turned off the burner and moved the pan before it started smoking. He looked around the room, a small apartment? Were the members playing a joke on him? Was he still dreaming? The apartment was small but bright. Sun filtered in from the windows and danced on contemporary furniture. The hardwood floors felt cold under his feet. He had lucid dreams before, but this felt oddly real. He ran his fingers through his long hair. Wait long? He looked around the room and spotted a mirror by the front door. He quickly ran to it.

 Okay now he knows he must be dreaming. In the mirror staring back at him was a girl, long hair, and bright eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest confused, He looked down surprised at how real he felt. He uncrossed them quickly as he felt heat in his cheeks. This was not what he meant when he said he wanted to join the committee. He’d never seen her before, maybe a face in the crowd or a fan. He’d see so many people everyday it was hard to remember. 

A sudden meow made him jump. Fear is normal in a dream right? That’s what nightmares are, he assured himself. He looked over to the counter to see a fluffy black and white cat perched staring at him with big blue eyes. 

“Well hello there,” He played with the tag around the feline’s neck. “Mozzie, that’s a cute name.”

…….

Chris awakened to pillows being thrown at him from across the room. He groaned, stretching and sitting up to see Hyunjin who was probably about ready to shake him awake.  

“Come on Chan hyung, we gotta go in a bit.” Chris groaned and looked at his phone. His reflection in the mirror showed his own face looking back at him. He sighed of relief knowing he was himself again. 

“Alright, I’ll be there in a few.” He stood up ready to begin their schedule filled day. He rubbed his head, he could barely remember being at JYP last night. One minute he was working the next Felix was dragging him home. And what was with that dream. He didn’t think he’d ever lucid dreamt not as himself, but he supposed it wasn’t impossible.

…….

Y/N

Your eyes couldn’t stare at your computer anymore. You couldn’t tell if it was the fluorescent lighting or the numbers on your screen, but your head felt like it was going to explode. Today felt like a blur. You could barely even remember getting ready this morning. You looked around your small little cubicle. You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to rest my eyes super quickly. You pushed your keyboard aside and laid your head down on your desk.

…….

Your surroundings were different this time. You were in a big space, what looked like a stage maybe? Your concert dreams sometimes felt vivid, but this was more vivid than being at a concert. The lights, the people, it felt too real. You looked down at your hands, they were the same from last night. Your outfit was noticeably different too, boots, black skinny jeans, and grey T-shirt. 

“Hey, Chan-hyung! Come on, it's time to practice. Dude are you okay?” You looked suddenly up from your hands to see a very concerned Kim Seungmin. This is definitely a dream right? “Hyung are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah I’m fine.” You said, but the voice wasn’t yours. Instead of your voice, a much deeper aussie accented voice came from your mouth. So, you were dreaming you were Bang Chan? Your dreams kept on getting weirder and weirder. 

“Come on hyung.” Seungmin grabbed your arm and pulled you up toward the stage. Much like the exhaustion last night you were surprised by how real his hand felt on your wrist. You could feel his grip on your forearm. When you reached the stage a staff member handed you both a microphone and ushered you onto the large performance area. Here the other members of Stray Kids sat waiting for you both.

“Alrighty let’s get this show on the road, we’re doing Levanter right?” Asked Changbin.

“Yeah, that and Double Knot.” Jisung called out. Your heart raced and you froze.. Levanter, Double Knot? Sure you knew the songs, but did you KNOW them. You did a silent prayer that your dream self knew what they were doing and lined up with the other boys.  

Thankfully you knew more than you thought and you performed the songs almost perfectly. It almost felt like you had done it a thousand times before as lyrics flowed from your mouth on cue, and your body moved to the music. Maybe you’d binged watched performances too many times and it was now stuck in your head. As you sat down on the stage your breathing was heavy. And was that sweat? Did someone turn up the temperature in the office? A phone fell out of your pocket. Facial recognition opened it. Looking through the apps you found Instagram. The Straykids official account? This could be fun. You held up your phone and snapped a quick selfie. In the caption you wrote “Can’t wait to see you Stay. #bangchan #LoveStay🐺” Here’s a gift dream Stays, you smiled, laying down and closing your eyes.

…….

Ding! Your head shot up from your desk. You could feel marks on your face left from the bumps in your sweater. Blinking the tiredness from your eyes you quickly peeked your head around to see if anyone had noticed you were asleep. Thankfully no one was really paying attention. You looked over at the source that disturbed your napping. When the screen lit up you were surprised to see a notification, @realstraykids posted. You slid the notification open and immediately dropped your phone on the ground. You scrambled to pick it up, your hands shaking. The loaded post was a selfie of Bang Chan and the caption read, “Can’t wait to see you Stay. #bangchan #lovestay 🐺”. What did this mean??

…….

CHAN

Practice was exhausting. At least Chris thought it was. It all seemed to pass by in a blur. One second he was getting ready backstage and the next he was collapsed on the floor after performing.  Maybe he was just tired? He wasn’t sure. It felt like he had woken up this morning more sleepy than when he went to bed if that was even possible. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned towards his kids. 

“Alright, everyone has to be back at JYP by four, got it?” They nodded and one by one stood up to go rest until their performance that evening. After they had left Chris trudged his way back to his studio where he hoped he could get some peace and quiet to nod off for a few hours.

…….

When Chan awoke he was back in the same apartment laying on the couch in the open plan living, kitchen, dining, everything space. He looked down. Yup same girl. He got up and began looking around for clues as to who she was. Her decorating style was simple, but trendy. There were a lot of potted plants on the window sills, monochrome grey furniture with accent throw pillows and blankets, and fairy lights that hung from the ceiling on the walls. 

He turned a corner into a small bedroom. It had the same style as the space outside, but something caught his eye. Over on one wall was a set of shelves adorned with pictures, Polaroids, knick knacks, books, and music albums. Chris wandered over to view the collection. He smiled as he focused on one particular shelf. This shelf held albums that were yellow, red, grey, and purple. He recognized the designs he had put his own input into.  The light stick they had worked so hard on. On that shelf sat a Polaroid that had a very familiar face on it, his own. He smiled to himself, so you’re a Stay huh?   

 …….

Y/N

As you relaxed into your seat on the bus you stared at the ticket in your hand. Maybe if you asked him about it he would know, or he’d think you were absolutely delusional. You shook your head, you were lucky enough to get into this fansign. You weren’t sure it was worth the risk of sounding crazy, not only in front of Bang Chan, but possibly other members as well. You gripped the letter you had written him tightly in your hand. The whole situation made your stomach queasy just thinking about it. You had been nervous enough to sit in front of them and actually have to talk to them, but with this on top of that your nerves were on a whole other level. You shook your head and pushed the thought aside. You were finally going to a Stray Kids fansign you should be excited and happy. You placed your letter into your album and stared out the window, hoping your nerves would begin to settle.

…….

CHAN

Chris took his seat in his chair ready for another evening with stays. He sat at the long table at the front of the room. It had been decorated to match their latest album. There were about a hundred chairs lined up neatly all the way to the back of the room. In each one sat a lucky Stay that was there to greet them. He was excited he was getting to see Stay again, they always gave him a smile and made his heart a little lighter. Although, he was a bit more tired than usual. These strange lucid dreams he’d been having really didn’t make for restful sleep. He hoped it wouldn’t affect his performance today and that Stays didn’t notice. He’d hate to make them worry. JYP staff began assisting fans lining them up to get ready to sit with each member. There were a lot of people here today. With each and every comeback their gatherings seemed to grow more and more, and the venues increased in size. 

It was like any other fansign. He sat and smiled and shared a brief moment with each and every Stay in front of him. A few Stays mentioned they hoped he was resting enough, but not too many, he assured them he was and that was that. He held their hands and laughed with them, and smiled for his fansites' cameras. Everything was going off without a hitch.

The last group was getting ready to stand in line to see them, when Chris did a double take. A wisp of long hair and a nervous smile had caught his attention. He shook his head. Minho, who was seated next to him, shot him a look of confusion. Chris shook his head and mouthed that it was nothing, but he couldn’t keep himself from peering over at a familiar head of hair in line. He did his best to focus on the stays in front of him, however in between he couldn’t help but glance over as she made her way closer and closer to him.

…….

Y/N

Your hands couldn’t stop shaking as you got closer and closer in line to see the members. At least he wasn’t the first one so you could relax a little. The line seemed to move so quickly, would seconds be enough? You’d never been to a fansign before. You thought about the letter you had stashed in the back of your album, there’s no way you could sneak that to him. You were going to have to hope for the best. 

���Miss?” You snapped out of it to see a staff member waving you over as it was your turn.

The first member was Changbin. He smiled a sweet smile at you and said hello. You spoke for a moment, commenting on how cute his hair was. And you moved on to Hyuinjin and the process repeated. Then Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, and I.N.. 

Everything was going smoothly until you reached Minho. He was right before Chan and you could feel your nervousness creeping back up on you now that he was so close. Your hands began to shake again and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You did your best to muster up a hello to Minho. He smiled at you, a little concerned he took your hand.

“Are you alright?” He asked. Your eyes flashed to him then quickly to Chan and the down at the table. He leaned in a little closer to you so only you could hear. “Don’t worry, there's no need to be nervous, I promise he won’t bite.” You looked back up at him and he winked at you. You smiled at him and thanked him before standing and moving to sit in front of Chan.

…….

CHAN

Chris smiled and waved goodbye to the Stay in front of him. Reaching behind him to grab a bottle of water and began to greet the next Stay. “Hello there, how are y-” His sentence stopped, It was her, the girl from the dream. He remembered her long flowing hair, her eyes, and her smile. Chris felt frozen in time. She was prettier in person. It was different looking at her face to face instead of in front of a mirror.

“Hi Chan, it’s nice to finally meet you.” She said with a smile. “It’s almost like a dream.”

“Hi there,” Chris paused hesitantly, wanting to ask about what she knew, but worried she wouldn’t believe him. “You remind me of someone I’ve seen in a dream.” Her eyes widened a little.

“Really? I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a few dreams about you.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but her mouth closed and she looked at me expectantly. 

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“It’s Y/N.” Chris chuckled to himself. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, I’ve been trying to figure that out since the moment I saw you.” She blushed, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You look tired, have you been sleeping okay?” He asked.

“I could say the same about you, but I’ve been having weird dreams lately,” She paused. “Dreams that I was you.” Chris smiled. “I dreamt about your rehearsals today actually. In the dream I was scared I wouldn’t know Levanter or Double Knot.” She laughed.

Chris looked up at her confused. He thought back to last night and earlier this afternoon. The pieces of his memories that were blurry, the end of the night at the studio, the Instagram post he didn’t remember posting, and the songs that no one except the members and the staff knew they were performing later on this evening. Could it be this was a two way street? Chris looked behind him, making sure the staff weren’t paying attention. He took his pen and wrote something down in her album. 

“Well, I hope to see you again. Maybe we’ll meet in our dreams.” He smiled and waved goodbye as she went to go take her seat in the audience. He kept a close eye on her as she carefully opened her album and read what he wrote. 

…….

Y/N

Did that really just happen? You were so nervous you could barely even hint on what you wanted to ask him. Your hands were still shaking and your heart was racing a million miles a minute. Probably better you didn’t or he would’ve thought you were crazy. You were happy you got to speak to him at least. You made your way back to your seat and carefully opened your album. You flipped slowly through it until you reached the page he had written in. Reading it made your heart almost beat out of your chest. You looked back up to him still on stage, still looking at you, with a comforting but knowing smile. 

Y/N,

 I hope we get to see each other in our dreams again. And maybe when we’re awake too. I’m sorry you had to endure our rehearsals instead of me today. Say hello to Mozzie for me. 

-Bang Chan