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#i do not understand my dream

atkar-thedemonkitty · 2 years

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I thought I had googled the synopsis of that potentially gay anime, Lycoris Recoil, last night since I’ve been seeing it all over. The reality is that apparently that research was all part of the dream I had - I dreamt I googled it and fell asleep, proceeding to dream within a dream of what was supposedly the show.

The dark haired girl was someone who kept moving between parallel worlds and timelines, in a way that she kept entering game universes - specifically dating visual novels and games. Flaw was: she was a teenage lesbian, was very aware of what was happening, and was not for these teenage boys salivating over her, nor having jealous girls hate her, so she kept switching universes because of “game failure”.

She then switched into a game world in which the main game had actually ended - the route had reached a bad ending and this was what was happening after. The blonde haired girl went to a strange white-walled old-building of a school and she had been the “main love interest” of the MC guy. However, when he went on to university, he had decided to move out of town and asked her to join him when she graduated school. She had declined, hence the “bad ending”. The aftermath was they broke up, he left never to return, and she was heartbroken. She declined because actually her mother was a sole parent of her and her younger sister and she didn’t wanna leave her alone. And also this girl had a terminal illness and didn’t have much longer to live?? So she said no, stayed where she was, and ended up also being bullied at school because the majority of the girls had been part of the “harem romance game” and liked the MC guy, and hated her for dating him and then daring to reject a future with him. I imagine the “true happy ending” involved her going to University with her guy, and somehow finding and affording medical treatment alongside everything else happily-ever-ever.

Alas, not to be and she was incredibly unhappy. Poof! our dark-haired girl appears as the anime-typical transfer student and everyone thinks she’s a cool new person of interest. She had piercings and wears a black choker, and is the sort of laid-back reserved type - likely due to having seemingly lived the same year repeatedly in various nauseating game worlds. She expects this to be the same as every other time before, but she soon realizes that none of the guys are paying any unnecessary overbearing attention to her than what’s usual for a new student in a smallish town.

Instead, it’s more like going to a normal school in her original world and she’s able to just sit back, less on edge. This means she can allow herself to pay more attention to the people around her rather than trying to avoid any form of contact, and thus ends up focusing on the blonde-haired girl. She’s pretty and she seems lonely. There’s an air around her, some distant point in her mind as if she’s watching the darkening horizon approach her and there’s no light to guide her way home. And it seems she doesn’t want the help either, as if she herself has placed herself five steps behind everyone else and she knows no one will walk by her side.

Also the school had its own specific sport they played in PE called “Ouroborus Lines” and in this particular PE class they played “Silent Ouroborus Lines”. New girl obviously had no clue what was going on but was roped into it anyway, while blonde girl sat on the outskirts watching. The gym floor had a painted town map in the centre with thick white lines cutting it into quadrants. All players wore earbuds so they couldn’t hear anything, and the teacher or selected person stood in the centre of the lines. The selected person would say numbers or something, and the players would have to work out by lip reading or room reading if their number/reference had been called and which quadrant they had to stand in. Once complete, everyone took their earbuds off and the selected person questioned what everyone individually thought was the total of their quadrant. It...made little sense but it was seen through the eyes of the new girl who had no clue what was happening.

Once the dark-haired girl had settled in more and the initial excitement of having a new student wore off, she could do more of what she desired rather than be dragged around by overzealous “popular” girls (who were the ones who bullied blonde girl). This meant she tended to remain in the classroom during break time where blonde girl hung out, using the excuse of “needing peace” or “wanting to read up on these crazy things I have never heard of that these teachers are teaching us”. This led onto blonde girl actually helping new girl study during breaktimes, but the second anyone would approach the classroom blonde girl would stop all interaction and close off.

Dark-haired girl didn’t like this and decided to make a point of sticking around blonde girl more, particularly outside school where no one could stumble across them. This led...to...well...yknow...gay feels for both of ‘em. But blonde girl had her death upcoming and was very aware of her social status at school, and while the girls had laid off bullying because of the new girl, they’d soon get bored and continue full-force. Blonde girl didn’t want dark-haired girl to get caught up in that.

Dark-haired girl didn’t care. They kissed behind her apartment block, leaning against the wall outside the steps up into the building opposite the old, rusty children’s swings where they’d previously been talking.

I woke up around this point and checked the true synopsis of the show, rapidily realizing I had most definitely not researched it the night before because...that isn’t the show.

Anyway, I’d watch whatever show my dream concocted.

#lycoris recoil #dream #anime #yuri #my post #i have not watched this show #i do not understand my dream #but thanks brain???

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legionofpotatoes · 6 months

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I just like looking at them all together 🥲

#you don't understand I DREAMED of doing this for so long!!!#I count my lucky stars for swaps #mass effect #my art

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landwriter · 20 days

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Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

#asks #the sandman #dead boy detectives #fic #crossover? fusion? i guess? who is to say! not me!#dreamling #perhaps some notes of chedwin #(a fabulous ship name btw. i may not get cob but i WILL get chedwin)#author wrote this while sick as dog so please excuse errors :')#might put on ao3 later if i have a chance to clean it up and expand on it a little!#my writing #me yesterday: 'i really don't see the appeal of blending both stories beyond doing it for the sake of it'#me today: 'no you don't understand they NEED each other here is my chart of the interpersonal dynamics and a list of all the ways hob can h #accidentally writing the new inn reunion scene i'd always dreamed of oops

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elizabethrobertajones · 4 months

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tbh I was wrong when I said that trans Estinien wouldn't have done anything different except she'd knock the stomach plate out of her dragoon armour once she realised what she wanted to present as.

Aymeric would woo the fuck out of her with full courtly hand kisses and calling her "my lady" and dancing in front of the fire etc and she would be helpless.

#ffxiv #estimeric #grumpy butch Estinien my beloved #I understand no one else has this headcanon because it just came to me in a dream with no explanation #and no one else is casually perceiving this off canon Estinien vibes #but I do think about her every few weeks and it makes me smile :P #I'll ask Feo Ul to drop by and update a few more people on this so you feel what I felt #then you'll get it

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veggieharumaki · 3 months

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a new era

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEL (@moonthreadsz)!!! some sylvee and dream for you :) backstory is they are using the 3D tech dream is cooking up rn and stumbled across a section in Minecraft that would be perfect for the munchymc base.

HAVE A GREAT DAY ILY

#HAPPY MOTHERUFKCING BIRTHDAY BITCH #HAVE A GREAT ASS DAY #I wanted to do more but my schedule 🥺#please understand #I am that one hamster #no but you have been a great friend and I wish you have a great year ahead #dream fanart #slyvee fanart #I don’t know if this has to be said but this is not a ship art post lol

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zu-is-here · 2 years

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Memories

After years of working together, the rivalry turns into something deeper, but suddenly Killer dies. To save his lover, Cross overwrites their timeline.

He doesn't know that Killer tries to load the latest save file at the same time thanks to his determination, but overwriting erases everything.

Due to the damage, they both lose their memories and start from the beginning, driven by a weird sense of loss — and the need to find someone.

#zu art #kross week #killer!sans #cross!sans #undertale #undertale au #utmv #*me trying to understand how Cross' Overwrite button (0.5 DT) works against Killer's Reset button (full DT)* ah. big brain (explosion) time—#initially I wanted only Killer to have amnesia (overwriting without resetting) so Cross suffers alone but that would be too cliche >;D #bonus points if Dream & Nightmare are their new lovers who do remember everything—#(nono it's too cruel <3)#to my wips: sorry for getting distracted... I'll do that again >:3 #be back soon— thank you guys for patience!╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

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princessdarth-vader · 5 days

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I think my ultimate thoughts re; Kipperlilly is that I wish we got a scene where a character was allowed to show her... sympathy. I know there's a tone you wanna hit with a victorious season finale, and a somber note of a teenager falling into a deep well of rage doesnt match that tone but it would've been nice to see.

In my dream world, we get an extra epilogue scene where Riz goes to see Jawbone to go and talk to him, and brings up the thing he mentioned about "seeing Kipperlilly in himself" -- relating that to what Jawbone said at the beginning of the year, and wanting to talk about that deeply set in need for control, and the latent anger he has, and all the ways he is like Kipperlilly, and doesn't want to be.

And in response, Jawbone is able to address the ways in which he failed Kipperlilly, and let her down. That she needed more help than he could provide, that she needed someone who wasn't too afraid of their own biases to shut down her anger, someone who could maybe have given her a support system to turn to instead of Porter. Someone external to the school and the social dynamics within it. Just an acknowledgement from, as far as we know, the only adult in Kipperlilly's life who earnestly tried -- and earnestly failed -- to help her find a better path than her rage.

Just a small moment of acknowledgement that Kipperlilly was a child, an angry, scared, biased and deeply insecure child who was looking for help when she first walked into Jawbone's office, and because of all the adults who failed her, she was turned into something unrecognisable by the time she was 17.

#fhjy spoilers #fhjy #kipperlilly copperkettle #dimension 20 #i feel like i need to clarify that i dont think she did nothing wrong #i understand that her anger when she was a kid was unreasonable and biased and terrible #but she was also a thirteen year old who didnt know anything about the world #and she was going to see jawbone frequently #so its not like she wasnt doing anything about it #and i feel so deeply upset about how much she was let down by both well- and ill- intentioned adults throughout her short high school caree #but jawbone was the one who first brought up the similarities between her and riz #like he said that kNOWING she goes into his office and talks about how much she wants to kill kristen applebees and hates riz's guts #so!!! please show me that he cares. that he can see despite everything kipperlilly is a kid #i dont need her revived. i just need her acknowledged that her anger issues were turned into a weapon #i dont CARE that she did it willingly. porter offered her something no other adult could i dont blame her for accepting #in my actual dream world we get a clip of riz offering her a hand and helping her up post-revivify #but that dream world is far off </3

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reallyhardydraws · 11 months

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ended up re-reading my unfinished WIP of my original-era scooby doo AU fic last night... maybe... MAYBE... i should at least properly plan out the outline...

(this is a cover from a playlist my friend @budcortfancam made! the songs are all era-appropriate, the idea is that they'd be tracks the gang would actually listen to. while 8tracks that the playlist was hosted on isn't working the way it used to, the post i've linked does contain a tracklist if you're curious)

#scooby doo #there's bits i'd probably change/remove but #honestly? i did enjoy revisiting it #and looking at this drawing #man that really is the VIBE do you understand. my vibe my dream was that it would feel like the start of autumn #the last embers of summer and the promise of adventure #and also it was gonna be about being Deeply In Love with all your best friends. that was the main thing :')

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ilynpilled · 9 months

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why must everything that the text clearly states atp be misconstrued like i really dont get it he has plenty of flaws in that relationship but we, and cersei, know that he was ready to kill robert for just the disrespect of the cheating if cersei said the word. he doesnt concern himself with the personal consequences, he is reckless, detached from a lot of things, and can close his eyes at the future if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. also the concern over the “shame” and ned type judgement feels so overestimated to me atp. he never regrets aerys, he is mad at how he is perceived (but again, notably doesnt try to rectify it by telling the truth for a lot of complex reasons), but he would never take it back. if he believes its the right thing to do, and is not overdosing on copium trying to juggle vows he cares about, he will do it, reputation be damned. though he has selfish concerns regarding being viewed as good, the internal matters so much more than the external: see weirwood dream: who actually shows up? what makes the fire go out? “it was not him. it was never him”, see the trebuchet fiasco, see the choice in adwd. why shouldnt we take cersei at face value when she implies that if jaime knew about the physical abuse he would have killed him? he loves and cares about cersei to an insane degree, even if he can be selfish toxic and unhealthy too. i really find it very very difficult to imagine that he wouldnt have killed him based on almost every single part of his characterization.