dream a little dream

@advhari

He sure is one tough nut to crack.

Jennie had been observing one particular mom-associated male for a while now, and yes, she, of all people, should not be judging others’ based on their outward appearance, but Jennie has never understood the concept of moral constraints.

So forgive the next train of thought, but the man is covered in tattoos from head to toe, with piercings in every part of his body where piercings were allowed, and he seems to be partial to leather and metal spikes. Basically, his appearance would leave any good Christian mother shaking in her knees. To top it all off, he has a criminal record of petty crime. (In hindsight, she probably should’ve led her train of thought with that piece of information first.)

He would be the perfect candidate for her games.

But imagine this: she had hacked into every electronic network she was sure he was involved with to find some incriminating information on his person, but the man is as clean as can be. Sure, the criminal record is scandalous, but something tells her that he’s unbothered by that. (Again, zero moral constraints.)

Jennie just knew there was something up about him, and perhaps he’s just so medieval that he doesn’t rely on technology to safeguard his deepest, darkest secrets.

Shame. She supposes she just has to assess how well he can hide his secrets, to the point of penetrating even his dreams.

You might think it’s impossible for her to be able to extract his dreams from his mind, and you’d be absolutely right. But Jennie knows someone who’s gifted in peeking at other people’s dreams, a juicy bit of information she’s found from that one doctor she’s hacked who diagnoses a series of his patients as insane because they keep telling him they feel her in their dreams. It doesn’t take long for Jennie to find out who she is. (Nothing and no one ever escapes Jennie, or at least that’s what she’d tell you.)

So here she is, visiting a quaint coffee shop that she’s certain Hari’s fond of, and just as she had suspected, the girl is sitting in the corner with a warm coffee in hand. Jennie beelines to the table and pulls out the chair across from her, then plops down and slides the mugshot of her tough cookie over to the girl.

“My boyfriend’s cheating on me, but I have no proof. Please invade his dreams and find out everything you can about him!” she says with a tight smile as she removes her sunglasses and puts it to rest on the table.

“Oh! I’m Jennie, by the way. It’s really nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot,” she says before a sheepish smile replaces the tight one upon noticing her error—she was too excited; she mixed her dialogue up. (God, how is it that she’s practiced this so many times in front of the mirror, and she still manages to get it wrong?)

She really hopes the girl doesn’t notice her error. Compliments. They always work, right?

Even though her hair sits loosely between the stranger’s fingers, she tenses up. She feels immobilized as if she’s caught by the reins, but this was long before the other touched her. The words “invade his dreams” left her petrified in her seat. Surely this person has to be from the foundation as well. This information is not public domain. It doesn’t make sense for anybody else to know... Unless someone didn’t keep their mouth shut.

“Can you keep your voice down... Jennie?”

This is the first time she’s heard of this name, be it from her own voice or anybody she knows. 

“Who have you heard things from?” Her lips barely part as she speak. Each word slips out as a small whisper. There are precautions that she doesn’t have the luxury to avoid, especially in instances where she’s such at a disadvantage like this. Maybe if they started off on equal footing, Hari would be more willing to hear Jennie out.

[ sent ]: reality is bleak and full of societal ornamentation just to make it feel less terrible than it already is. 

He can always tell when she’s with him. The very air in the room warps around her presence and opens up like a tear in the fabric of his atmosphere. A quiet serenity permeating through the palpable fear, sewing a thread of hope into him that reanimates his body after certain depletion and what felt like decades of dormancy where his mind flickered back to life and then dulled again into darkness because he was too exhausted to keep fighting against himself. She fought for him and he thinks it’s the first time anyone has embraced the ugly things hiding within the corners of himself. The first time someone has stood, confident in the midst of his ruins and started picking up all of the pieces with bare hands. For that reason he always crumbles at the sound of her voice, whether it’s from the overwhelming realization that he’s safe or from the toll that he’s taken trying to fight against the crooked, misplaced constructs of his imagination. “Hari,” Seungyoun responds around the crackles and pops littering his throat, warn out syllables and tattered vowels. Everything is a plea, even if it’s her name he still feels like he’s crying for help .

READ MORE (xkit can eat it)

Seungyoun’s fear infects her like a virus. His screams always act as the vehicle that injects it right into the bloodstream. Time is of the essence and it’s a luxury that this reality often doesn’t have. She can't let her decision-making stutter even if it is out of concern for him. Everything stems from the dreamer and the moment their roots start wilting, the rest will die off as well. Like a sharpshooter learning to quickly draw their gun, she learned to be just as quick and accurate as well through her interactions with Seungyoun’s subconscious.

When they first taught her how to object removal it was all a matter of imagining the motions, either tearing something apart, crushing it, or throwing it away. Deconstructing matter on the other hand takes a certain flair of creativity. The challenge lies in the fact that nobody knows the sensation of how it is to make objects obliterate into pieces or make them unravel, millions of molecules at the same time. But she can do it; if she wills it, it will happen. The logic of this realm is like that. 

Her first target is the conjured figment next to her roommate. It’s instantaneous the way the figment falls apart into dust. Solid matter in one second and then nothing in the next. The adrenaline courses in her vein in frenzy every time, feeding off the power high. It’s a shame Seungyoun can’t see it but her feats aren’t the priority, his safety is. Even under the darkness she can still feel the chair there and pinpoint its and Seungyoun’s locations. The restraints and chair disappear as well though the same satisfaction is lacking. Most importantly, she brings him down slowly onto the mattress that she drew into existence from before.

@advhari

His arm is bleeding. That’s not exactly abnormal for him. It’s just a small cut- or what he would call a small cut. It runs across his wrist in a thin line and the blood is pouring out slowly. He needs to energy. Work has been hard- very hard. He’s been awake for two days, maybe three. There’s been yelling- screaming. A man died this morning, but he has to show his face at home. He can’t just work nights and sleep all day because if he did she might notice that something is wrong. That’s the last thing he wants. She’s comfortable here- feels safe. He wants her to stay that way. 

She’s been living with him for a while, Hari, that is. She was on the streets before and he couldn’t stand that look on her face. She reminded him of his mother maybe, or even of himself. The way he used to live before he was sold away. The idea that she could possibly end up like him or his mother… It drove him to invite her to live with him. Lead him to take care of her- to make himself out to be far better than he could ever truly be. In a way, it disgusted him. She thought him better than he is and that enough was something that he couldn’t stand. She deserved a better home. Hopefully someday she would be able to get there… For now, he would be a step for her to get somewhere better. He didn’t mind being stepped on- used. That is… normal enough.

But none the less, he can’t just stay out all night. She needs to see him during the day for his act to stay in place. He needs to cook for her in a moment too. She’ll probably appreciate the breakfast. He looks at the blood on his arm yet again and lets out a weak noise. The pain stings a little for a second. There’s blood absorbing into his skin. It looks far from normal, but to him it’s just that. He blinks slowly- insides feeling like they’re tearing. He probably needs real sleep… Soon. But he can’t afford it at the moment. Works too busy and she’s… too important.

So he lets his lead lull back- air escaping his lungs with a weak noise. He feels dizzy, but at least he’s waking up. It’s early in the morning, so he doesn’t expect to hear anything but himself. The sound of footsteps causes him to jolt up. His eyes widen and his hands move faster than his head. He swipes the blood over one of his hands- claws appearing. there’s still blood dripping from the wound, but he ignores it as he looks toward the source of the noise. Any burglar is going to regret breaking in. A competitor would regret it more.

But it’s neither. His eyes widen and the clawed hand drops. Panic overtakes him and he lets out a shaky gasp. His foot shuffles back and his mind screams to run. She’s seen him. She’s finally seen the truth. She knows he’s a monster and now… Now she’ll leave. She can’t possibly stand to be around him- a freak that bleeds instead of sleeping- instead of needing anything. He looks at the claw and then to her face. His mind is telling him to cry, but instead, there’s absolutely nothing. He opens his mouth slowly. His voice is low and calm.

The sight that welcomed her when she stepped out of her room made her doubt where she was. She swore she woke up already.  The dream world never had its clutches around her all night. Two fingers pinched a random spot on her forearm with considerable force. The sharp pain presented her with an alternate explanation: she was awake and this was reality.

“Wh–” There was no way for her body to find the strength to finish the rest of that thought. Even she had no idea where it was heading. About a million inquiries crossed her mind at once. 

What happened last night? Why are you bleeding? Who attacked you? What are you sorry for?

@advhari

Minseok is a coward—there’s barely an ounce of masculinity within him—or whatever society calls it these days. There are many things he fears. He fears the world for one thing. He’s afraid of people, afraid of what memories an object could hold. He’s even scared of himself, but he can’t help but to think that it’s a given. His fears have led to a variety of things. They aren’t exactly good, but they’re not bad either. Of course he never leaves his house for one thing. He tries to minimize his interactions with people as much as possible.

Yet despite that, he still finds himself in unwanted situations. Walking home by himself, down a dark street with the sounds of footsteps trailing behind him. They match his pace. They sound frantic when he walks faster and only slow when he does. It’s straight out a horror novel and he can’t help but to laugh at the irony. He’s going to get mobbed, mauled, torn apart, and left to rot in a dark alley. Minseok curses his luck, curses his weak will for allowing his editor to easily sway him into a late night breakfast.

The footsteps grow gradually louder and he ducks into an alleyway out of panic. He comes to a stop—oh the irony, how he wants to laugh at his fate. The footsteps stop and a hand reach for his shoulder. With a startled yelp he spins around and raises his arms up in defense.

He is not making this easy for her or himself.

“Excuse me!” quickly turns into “Hey stop!” with every step that he takes farther away from her. The nighttime’s air intensified the situation for both parties. He probably thinks she’s up to something, but the converse is also true. This wallet can be bait for him to draw her somewhere– Like this alley way that he just turned into. She just wants to do a good deed and it perplexes her how much of a challenge it’s turning out to be. It’s too late to stop now; she’s pursued this ( and him ) for too long.

His reaction makes her scoff with an air of humor. “I know. I have your money here,” she holds up the wallet. So her guess is right. He was scared of her this whole time. It’s the best case scenario out of the two possible ones, so she’s thankful that the risk she took isn’t going to bite her in the rear.