time-travel forced transition where you meet this weird girl who acts like she’s known you for years and she’s calling you a different name and ignoring your attempts to correct her. but she’s hot so you’re willing to put up with it. you go out drinking with her and she starts asking you all these bizarre questions about your dating history (dismal) and what kind of porn you watch (you plead the fifth) and you’re starting to think about making some excuse to leave when she pulls out her phone and shows you pictures of someone who looks weirdly familiar and- oh god. oh fuck- you’re staring into an alternate reality. it’s you, it’s you but different, it’s you but hotter, it’s you but older, and yet somehow a decade has been shaved off your smile and your eyes are brighter than they’ve ever been when you can meet your gaze in the mirror. with shaking hands you give the phone back to her and you gulp your drink. “i’m here to help you,” the stranger rubs your arm, reassuring, “you’ve seen it, so you know you don’t have a choice. we’re just skipping a few steps…” and before she can finish her sentence you’re feeling woozy and sagging against her. you’ll wake up somewhere you’ve never been and you’ll fight it for a while at first but you’ll let her remake you. because she’s right. you don’t have a choice.