#also dove was INCREDIBLY lonely

[sinnamonbun-in-purgatory]

His favorite vampire + a very lonely kid who escaped hell only to return back home

[unusualtfs]

Mr. Entwistle

truly blown away by the incredible response to my first story! hope you enjoy this one as well — it's the first of many age progressions to come!

A little voice in Daniel’s head whispered that he really shouldn’t be doing this, but he ignored it as he lifted his twinkish frame over the fence into Mr. Entwistle’s backyard. So what if this was technically breaking and entering? Really, Mr. Entwistle had started it.

The situation was this: Growing up, Daniel had been neighbors with a sweet old lady named Mrs. Owens. She made the best cookies and instantly charmed everyone she met, but most importantly, she had a pool in her backyard — and everyone was invited to use it. The neighborhood children eagerly took advantage of this arrangement, Daniel most of all. He took to it like a duck to water, spending hours perfecting his form, and his hard work paid off when he was offered a scholarship to compete for his university’s swim team. Suffice it to say, the property may have been Mrs Owens’, but everybody knew the pool really belonged to Daniel.

So imagine his dismay when he returned home from his first year in college only to find the pool had been walled off, sealed away in plastic and plexiglass. Apparently, Mrs. Owens had moved to be closer to her grandkids — and her replacement was her polar opposite in every way. 

Mr. Entwistle was a middle-aged man who never seemed to smile. He was tall and broad, but not notably so, and in any case his dad bod was invariably obscured by his business-casual uniform of a dumpy dress shirt and drab khakis. Combined with his rapidly thinning auburn hair and his just-starting-to-gray beard, it all added up to make him the epitome of middle-aged male mediocrity. The only noteworthy thing about his appearance was that Daniel could have sworn he had spotted a wedding ring on his finger. But if the man had a wife, Daniel had never seen her.

In terms of Mr Entwistle’s personality, there wasn’t much to speak of. He was cold and taciturn, gazing at everyone with a vaguely disapproving look in his eyes. This was reflected in his daily routine, which consisted of him exiting the house at 8 on the dot, driving to wherever it was he worked, returning at 6, and disappearing until the cycle repeated itself the next morning. Insultingly, at no point in this schedule did he even use the pool — it just sat there in its cage, its chlorinated waters placid and lonely. But on the flip side, Mr. Entwistle’s rigid routine made it trivial for Daniel to plan his little heist.

It was currently 10 in the morning, which meant Mr. Entwistle was at work and wouldn’t be home for hours. And Daniel planned to spend each and every one of those hours swimming in the pool that was rightfully his. Not wanting to delay, he stripped down to his baggy green swim trunks, revealing his pasty, lanky, and hairless body. He quickly snapped a cheeky selfie to commemorate his audacity.

He could already feel his pale skin beginning to burn in the sweltering summer sun, so without further ado, he dove into the pool with perfect form, leaving behind only the faintest ripple.

The water was cool and refreshing, and for a moment, Daniel allowed himself to just tread water as he basked in the sensation. But it wasn’t just the feeling of the pool water lapping against his skin that excited him — it was also the thought that he was reclaiming his property, his territory, from that interloper Mr. Entwistle. His cock briefly rose to its underwhelming length of 4 inches at that rebellious idea, but his swim trunks were so baggy that they entirely concealed his boner. Well, it didn’t matter — he had better things to do in this pool.

Once his erection had receded, Daniel got started on his training regimen, doing laps around the pool until his entire body tired. At that point, he allowed himself to mindlessly float on the surface until he felt rejuvenated enough to continue. But even when he was exhausted, his face displayed a wide, genuine grin — it felt good to be back in this pool. It was somewhere he truly felt at home. 

Occasionally, he paused his training to swim to the deck and check the time on his phone, wanting to give himself plenty of time to leave. Right now, it was 1:33, which should have given him plenty more hours of pool time. The key phrase was should have, because at that moment, Daniel heard the telltale rumble of Mr. Entwistle’s car pulling up in the driveway.

Oh shit, Daniel thought. That’s not good. You see, there was one unexpected variable in Mr. Entwistle’s schedule. On certain days, he came home from work in the early afternoon — and when that happened, rather than entering the house through the front door, he liked to go through the gate to the backyard and relax by the poolside. These short days at work seemed to follow no rhyme or reason that Daniel could perceive, but Mr. Entwistle had just had one the previous day, so Daniel had assumed it wouldn’t be an issue. Evidently, he’d assumed wrong.

Panic set in as Daniel realized he had just seconds to escape before Mr. Entwistle arrived to witness his trespassing. That panic soon became despair as his eyes darted between his phone and his scattered clothes, forced to admit that he’d never make it out in time. As he heard the car door slam shut and Mr. Entwistle’s heavy footsteps trudge toward the backyard gate, Daniel grew desperate. And in his desperation, he did the one thing he could think of — he took a deep breath and dove underwater, praying that its turquoise hue would hide him from view.

Through the muddled underwater light, Daniel watched, terrified, as his neighbor’s silhouette walked down the pool deck. A few seconds passed, and he gave a mental sigh of relief. It seemed Mr. Entwistle somehow didn’t notice either Daniel or his belongings strewn across the patio. Of course, from his submerged vantage point, Daniel had no way of noticing his clothes and his phone fading into nothingness above him.

Mr. Entwistle remained up there for a minute, then another. Daniel was quite strong at holding his breath, but he couldn’t keep at it forever, and he was quickly reaching his limit. Just when Daniel thought he would be forced to abandon his hiding spot, a miracle happened — Mr. Entwistle got up and went inside, probably to use the bathroom.

As soon as Mr. Entwistle was out of sight, Daniel rushed to the surface, his lungs burning. But rather than emerging into the bright sunlight, he instead felt his head hit something solid with a muted thunk! Alarmed, he reached his hands out and found them unable to breach the line between the water and the air. There was some kind of invisible barrier covering the pool, preventing him from surfacing! He banged on it, pushed against it with all his might, but it was no use. He was trapped.

Now Daniel was in full panic mode. He was about to drown! Was this his punishment for breaking into his neighbor’s property? He tried to conserve his remaining air for as long as possible, but he only lasted a minute more. With his air depleted and his time up, he inhaled.

Surprisingly, he didn’t die. In fact, it was as if he could breathe underwater. Although he could feel the pool water entering his lungs, it was a rather pleasant feeling, filling his chest with pleasurable warmth. He didn’t notice that this wasn’t all that was happening to his chest. As he greedily inhaled more and more water, his torso rapidly inflated, bulging with muscle. His previously flat chest grew into two balloon-like pecs, and he developed chiseled abs far more prominent than anything his lithe swimmer’s build had previously allowed. His back grew, too, developing an immaculate triangle shape that any man would kill for.

Daniel now had the torso of an Adonis, which looked quite strange in tandem with the rest of his skinny body. But he wasn’t quite done yet. One last gulp of water caused a layer of fat to grow over his muscular middle, thickening him up while doing nothing to hide the strength that lay underneath. It was a shame that such an impressive body had no hair to accompany it, but that soon changed as Daniel felt pins and needles erupt across his torso. Black hair erupted everywhere the sensation appeared, and soon his chest, stomach, and back were covered by a carpet of the stuff — a vast improvement over his previous hairlessness.

Its work done in that region, the lovely warmth moved out to his appendages, where the process repeated. First he gained bodybuilder levels of muscle — biceps, triceps, quads — and then an additional layer of padding and hair to complete the package. As an extra perk, a tattoo appeared on his left shoulder, a simple, masculine thing that would have looked out of place on the man he had been but fit perfectly on the man he was becoming.

From there, the warmth migrated to his extremities, turning his delicate and skinny hands and feet into meaty and calloused bludgeons. His fingernails and toenails, one perfectly groomed, became cracked and weathered. His feet also grew tremendously, exploding into a monstrous size 15.

Next was his head. As the pleasant warmth traveled up his neck, Daniel’s vocal folds thickened, dropping his voice from a youthful tenor to a rumbling bass. He felt a satisfying cracking sensation as his facial features shifted. His nose became squatter, his brow became much more prominent, and his sharp chin became wider and rounder. Every part of his face did, actually, as it grew fatter, making it difficult to tell when his neck ended and his head began. 

His face sagged a little as it became weathered and slightly wrinkled, as did the rest of his body. Daniel now appeared to be well into middle age, a far cry from his former self. Adding to that impression was the fact that all the hair atop his head was beginning to fall out, floating freely in the water before vanishing entirely. Soon his head was entirely bald, proudly exposing his smooth, shiny scalp to the world forevermore. As if to counterbalance that, he rapidly grew a well-groomed goatee, surrounding his mouth with a thick circle of hair.

The warm water centralized in Daniel’s brain, rendering him in a state of total, blissful calm. At some point in the process, he noticed all that was happening to him, but it was so relaxing and so pleasurable that he couldn’t bring himself to care. So he didn’t question it as thoughts and truths started rearranging in his head. The burgeoning knowledge and potential he had gained in his first year of college drained away, permanently slowing his brain to a sluggish crawl. He was dumb, and he didn’t care. In place of intelligence, more important skills entered his head, and suddenly he was an expert at bodybuilding and auto mechanics. That’s what he was now, an auto mechanic, although he hated to get dirty. No, wait, that wasn’t right, he realized. While Daniel the young swimmer couldn’t stand dirt and grime, Daniel the middle-aged mechanic couldn’t get enough of the feeling of sweat and engine grease on his body. That was just one facet of the cockier, manlier personality he was developing. Ironically, the new him wasn’t even all that into swimming, except as a means to cool off or show off his hot bod.

At this point, anyone who looked at this burly bear of a man would have no inkling of the weak little twink he used to be. There was just one incongruity left — his cock. His previously baggy swim trunks were now skin tight against his tree trunk thighs, exposing his 4-incher to the world. But a man like Daniel wasn’t meant to have such a glaring weak point, so the warmth rushed down to his penis, bringing with it all his memories and traits from his old life. They filled his balls, inflating them twofold, and aroused him like nothing he’d felt before. In the midst of the pleasure, his cock suddenly went soft, but it remained the same length — and then it hardened again, doubling to a monumental 8 inches that strained against his trunks. The trunks themselves shrunk into a black Speedo that left nothing to the imagination, making his cock even more prominent.

The arousal was so great that Daniel immediately found himself jacking off, moaning every time his fingers brushed his sensitive manhood. However, something within Daniel prevented him from going all the way. Deep down, he knew that if he allowed himself to give in to the pleasure, he would lose everything that made him, him. So slowly, reluctantly, he separated his meaty hands from his throbbing erection.

But then a face appeared in his mind’s eye — Mr. Entwistle’s. No, his name is Scott, his mind corrected. And Daniel realized how wrong he had been to dismiss him as mediocre before, because Scott was truly the hottest man he had ever seen. Everything about him, from his receding hairline to his curly beard to his perfectly proportioned dad bod, got Daniel going like nothing else. More information about Scott entered Daniel’s head, information he should have had no way of knowing, but through his newfound adoration for the man he didn’t question any of it. It was just a fact of life that he loved Scott’s hairy body (not nearly as hairy as Daniel’s, obviously), and his work ethic, and his sharp intelligence, and the way he was really a big softie underneath that stern demeanor, and of course the hot and raunchy sex he had with him. Really, he loved everything about Scott Entwistle, his husband, and that epiphany was enough for him to climax, releasing his old self into his Speedo without even touching his prodigious cock.

The force of his orgasm physically propelled him upward, breaking the invisible barrier and allowing him to breach the surface as his new, better self — Dan Entwistle. 

Blinking to adjust to the afternoon light, Dan was faced with a welcome sight: Scott, his beautiful husband, lounging in a pool chair in nothing but trunks, his massive pouch clearly visible and ready for action.

Scott greeted him with a wry expression and a peace sign — his husband was a man of few words.

“Someone’s home early,” Dan said, relishing the sound of his sexy, masculine gravel. Not that his voice had ever been anything else.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Scott said in his sensual baritone.

“Well, Mr. Entwistle,” Dan replied, “consider me surprised.” Dan noticed Scott’s 7-inch sausage perking up at that. After all, Entwistle was Dan’s surname, which Scott had adopted after their wedding. To be called “Mr. Entwistle” was a reminder of their love — and a massive turn-on.

Knowing his horny husband was like putty in his hands, Dan stepped out of the water, fully revealing his godlike body — and giving Scott a full view of his bulge within his Speedo.

“I think that you deserve a reward for surprising me,” Dan said, feeling himself begin to chub up even though he’d just come minutes prior. “And this Speedo ain’t gonna hold much longer.” He winked, causing Scott to shiver. “Why don’t you hop in the pool with me and see how else you can surprise me?”

Scott licked his lips, clearly into it. “But babe… what if the neighbors see?”

“Oh, Mr. Entwistle…” Dan said. “That’s what this fence is for.” And he fell back in the water with a mighty splash, knowing his husband would follow.

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 1

satoru gojo x f!reader x suguru geto

plot: moving to the city from a small town was no easy feat, especially to start teaching as a jujutsu sorcerer.

themes: yandere, dead dove, non con/dub con, angst, naive reader, second person pov, thriller, toxic relationships, canon divergent

masterlist • read on ao3

Chapter Directory • Next Chapter >

1. Goodbye

Ever since the days of your childhood, you could see things that weren’t otherwise visible to anyone else lurk in the dark or simply just linger around people like parasites.

At often times, these beings would parrot the person they were shadowing, somehow perfectly resembling their true selves in the form of a grotesque caricature.

You quickly learned that this ability for being able to perceive such creatures wasn’t the norm and as such, your parents quickly caught on. Your mother told you fairly early on into life that you had a gift and it skipped every other generation on her side, so if you truly desire a normal life… then to just simply ignore it.

It was surely difficult, though.

For a while, you tried to live your life as normally as you could. You went to a normal school, tried to have normal friends and did your best to bury the ability to see things that you perhaps had no business seeing as time went on.

However, your gift was scouted out relatively quickly in a nearby school for special people just like yourself. It called itself a jujutsu school and the one in your area was one of the smaller ones in the country, meaning that you were the only student in your entire year and the only remaining two third years were gone by your second year with no fresh enrolments.

And when the time came to graduate, you did so alone as the only student sorcerer in the school.

The campus to your school wasn’t as greatly funded as the other schools so it didn’t quite have accommodation so you couldn’t really live there. This was apparently common in less populated areas.

Despite this, it felt like a blessing to leave your small town everyday and to simply just explore on field trips with your teacher. She was relatively young, she could have been your older sister as far as ages went and she did her best to make you feel included as a person, sympathising with you that this is indeed a lonely route in life at times but it’s all for something so much bigger.

But that wasn’t the reason you felt so alone.

There was another problem that resided in your town and it wasn’t loneliness, nor was it the fact that the town itself was polluted with generational problems — there was the problem of your lifelong childhood bully who simply did not like you and as such, made your life a living hell from the moment you could understand words.

If she hadn’t been human, she could have made a good cursed spirit. There was something incredibly off about her, something so twisted and perfectly vile, reflected and validated by the cursed spirits that hovered around her.

The town itself was crawling with them too; the town hall, the local hospital, the two schools and even certain houses harboured at least the simple ones. They weren’t dangerous, but they were there and keeping them around wasn’t doing anyone any good either.

Had you cared just a little bit more, you would have done something about it, but this town wasn’t kind to you and you weren’t going to be nice to it either.

Was that petty?

It sounded perfectly fair to you, even if you didn’t admit it to anyone. Your teacher told you that you were studying and learning how to be a sorcerer to protect people, to create a balance in this world, so technically you should have been exorcising those things in your free time.

As sad as it sounded also, she was also your only friend by the time you had reached graduation, too. You graduated from that place with the intention of becoming something similar, hoping to be someone’s support in what was an unforgiving and isolating life.

She helped you with everything beyond that point too, wanting to help you leave this place and explore your potential. She handled the references and getting your name to the right people, but still, it was starkly silent and you remained dormant for just a couple years more than you should have been after finishing school.

You hoped to land something in the bigger cities though, so you never backed down from the beginning. You knew that the cursed spirits that resided those were often worse and more intelligent, that the people there were simply just more complex, but that was besides the point—you wanted to get away from home as fast as you could, as far as you could.

Living at home in the sticks with your parents that were distant to you ever since you convinced them to let you go to that alternative school in a town under the spiteful eye of someone who understood perfectly well that there was something about you… wasn’t that great of a deal.

Especially after what she did back then.

The night that she went too far.

So, one could only imagine your relief and maybe some shock, when out of all of the places that could have taken you in for a teaching position, it was for Tokyo.

Your eyes stared at the letter for the longest time when it happened. You thought it was a prank at first, but it all seemed perfectly legitimate. Apparently your former teacher was hard at work to help you out and as it turned out, teachers with support-centric techniques were surprisingly in demand.

The letter recommended to move after the summer term had ended to get yourself set up and established, especially if moving from a place so far away. The school budget paid the teachers a minimum monthly salary due to some type of sorcerers’ union, so even if you were out of work for the summer, getting by shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

All you had to do was make it past the first month on your savings.

You were determined to make it work.

The moment that it was all set up and confirmed, you didn’t even look back. You thanked your parents for letting you stay and for not being too against your life, ready to head out and begin anew.

It would be different this time after all, you didn’t have to be the person you were before.

You could begin anew.

***

Upon arriving in Tokyo, it was admittedly a struggle with finding your bearings in such a crowded and bustling place. Your old school was nearby a city and you’d often go there for field trips, but it was nowhere near to this magnitude.

You were met at the train station by a jujutsu assistant. To your understanding, these were people who couldn’t quite make the cut as sorcerers but they were just as valuable with getting everything set up and done. Your old school had one too, but their job was simply to get you from your house and to the campus as well as the other way around.

This one on the other hand was absurdly helpful, their stature and tone laced with a certain type of professionalism that you didn’t think was possible; they not only drove you to the campus, but they also took their time to explain the layout, the facilities and even told you that you have a right to use the on-site accommodation over the summer if you didn’t quite having a living situation figured out just yet.

You didn’t, to their credit. You were about to live your first month out in a cheap hotel and hope for the best… so this was absolutely a step up in a better direction, at least as a temporary fix.

As such, you took that offer right away, not really thinking about it. It would make do for now, at least. You would be alone for the duration of it, but you didn’t quite care about that because you were already used to that to a degree.

Moving in as a result was easy enough; you chose the bedroom closest to the kitchen and bathroom, not bothering to explore the rest of the rooms because that’s all you needed.

You moved in a little earlier than the letter encouraged you to do so, but it was apparently fine to do so. As such, you were there right as the summer break had actually started so the existing teachers would be available to meet before they’d be excused for the holidays.

In a way, this thought mildly terrified you even if you were encouraged by the assistant to do so, to just get an idea of the types of people you’d be working with. You harboured some mild social anxiety from your isolated way of life and your main fear was coming across as strange in a way that was off-putting.

This was a high school so you fretted about it more than you should. What if your technique was lame? What if you came across as uninteresting? Did the teachers have cliques here or did they not care about such trivial matters?

Sorcerers were often weird themselves, so they were probably used to the latter.

Hopefully.

***

It took you a couple of days to get settled in and you took those moments to get used to the campus, mapping it out in your mind so that you could avoid getting lost wherever you had to be on your first day. The last thing you wanted to do was to mess up in front of your students, of course.

You also got used to using the nearby bus line that was close to the campus. The travel card itself was heavily discounted, just one of the many perks supposedly and you got used to small frequent trips to go and get groceries just as some strange form of exposure therapy.

Come Friday, or rather the final Friday, it was time to get to know who you would be working with. You being nervous was the understatement of the century. You always knew that you would end up at least somewhere to be a jujutsu teacher, but all of the big shots were in Tokyo and that’s who you would be working with.

The gathering point was in a standard staff lounge. The room itself was beige both in flooring and the surrounding walls had a few sofas stacked against them. There was otherwise a kitchenette further into the room with a coffee machine that apparently was labelled as defunct, despite the lingering smell of it going strong in the room.

The head of the school, Yaga as you had come to know him as, was the first person you met beyond that room. He didn’t let you say too much before he would lead you off to a group of people and throw you right in the middle of the conversation they were otherwise having.

As such, the anxiety began to fester.

You tried to keep your cool, though.

“These two,” he began to speak up as he pointed to a tall white-haired man and another with longer pulled back black hair, “will be your two official colleagues, you’ll be taking on the same students as a whole but you will be assigned individual cases based on your abilities.”

Both seemed to be around your age, which both comforted and unsettled you all at the same time

The white haired man was the first to interact with you as he drew out his hand to shake as you awkwardly scrambled to meet him halfway. His vibrant blue eyes were certainly unique, you thought.

“Pleased to meet you,” he spoke, his tone was playful and yet professional, “I’m Satoru Gojo, you can call me as you’d like.”

You have heard of that name before, at least the clan name. There were certain details that reached even your small school and you were aware of the major sorcerer clans at the very least.

“Suguru, Geto,” the black haired man added on, his handshake more curt and to the point.

A woman between the two of them cleared her throat, throwing a narrowly pointed stare at the principal and extended her hand to you as well. Yaga muttered something under his breath to her as he walked off, leaving you behind with three completely new people.

She had shoulder length brown hair and slight eye bags that occupied her face. She rolled up the sleeve to her white coat to comfortably shake your hand as well.

“I’m Shoko Ieri. Just call me Shoko, feel free to call these two by their first names too. They won’t mind, nor care,” she said as she introduced herself to you.

“I’m [name],” you nodded along as you introduced yourself, unsure what to really say beyond that point, “the new supportive techniques teacher, I suppose.”

“Ah, I heard we were getting someone new in that department,” Satoru said, his eyes scrolling up and down your body, leaving you feeling a little exposed.

“I’m the campus doctor so not really a teacher,” Shoko added along, “Satoru handles most of the students, Suguru helps train others with things like hand to hand combat and sword fighting.”

“Looks like we’ve finally got a solid facility,” Satoru smiled, throwing his arms around his two colleagues. You assumed that they were all good friends, something that you envied.

“So where are you from?” Shoko asked.

“Oh, I’m from a town further north in the country,” you replied, feeling just a little nervous for admitting it. You wondered if you should have just said you were from a city up north instead.

“How are you finding the big city?” Satoru almost teased, his teeth flashing through his playful grin.

“Exhausting,” you admitted with a small smile, your eyes trailing onto the ground as you mulled over your answer, “but I like it.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he smiled before going off to pay attention to his other friend, seemingly concluding that brief interaction with you.

Shoko stared at him for a moment as she did so before turning her sights back to you.

“Hey, so we’re going out for drinks, nothing too serious, maybe you should come along?” she asked, her tone was friendly but it didn’t seem fake.

You considered it as you looked at her for a moment. You weren’t really the drinking type as you simply never had the opportunity to do so; your parents never kept alcohol at home and you didn’t have the friends to go sneak off and get it elsewhere growing up.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favour,” she spoke up again in a more lighthearted manner, noticing your hesitation, “it would be just me and these two otherwise.”

“I could,” you nodded along to it, after all. If you were going to be leaving your comfort zone, then you had to actually take a step out of it if the opportunity arose, which it did here.

“Great,” she smiled, pulling your hand along with her as she caught up to the other two, “if you’re going to be working with these two, you might as well get to know them.”

The two men didn’t say anything but they did make room to include you as they walked along beside you. You felt some discomfort as a result, as if you were a fourth wheel somehow intruding on a perfectly established dynamic.

You walked along in relative silence as you tried to keep up with some desperation as the streets quickly became more and more crowded. To your comfort, Shoko never once let go of your wrist and pushed through the masses with you in tow, telling you to just stare straight ahead because making eye contact with people only slows them down, to focus on that building right at the end of the road because that’s where you’re all going.

You listened to her words and took everything she said seriously as the bustle quickly got too overwhelming, finding that it surprisingly worked and as such, quickly found comfort in her company because she was the first person aside from your teacher to give you a chance.

You even sat next to her when you got to the bar as the two others went elsewhere, to get drinks from what it looked like.

“Shoko’s hogging the newbies again,” Satoru pouted as he came back with a few bottles of booze as his friend brought over even more, “always getting to know them before we do.”

“You’re not exactly an easy person to get to know,” she replied as she poured herself a drink, pouring one for you right after, “besides you left immediately, what were you expecting?”

“For my grand charm to kick in and let the law of attraction do its work?” he laughed as he settled into his seat, seeming a little tired from what you could gather.

“So hopeless,” she replied as she took a swig from her glass, “you talk too much about yourself, and you don’t talk talk enough—someone has to be the middleman, right?”

“I do talk, though?” Suguru replied as he quietly poured himself a drink.

“You’ve said the least so far, to be fair,” Satoru piled on.

“The newbie isn’t talking much either,” he shrugged as he took a sip.

“That’s what the drinks are for,” Satoru smiled, “everyone’s talkative after a few.”

You suddenly felt as though it was now your queue to drink, but you didn’t really know what to expect from it but you tried your best and still managed to sour your face as you got into it, getting a couple of stifled laughs from the seats opposite.

“Take a big sip and then force it down,” Shoko said, “it gets easier as time goes by.”

You nodded as your cheeks quickly grew red from embarrassment.

“So, you said you were from the north right? Just how far up north?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, a little too suddenly interested in you after seeing you couldn’t hold your drink.

“Just… far enough… I guess…” you replied, your eyes slowly drifting off to the table as you felt less and less enthusiastic about sharing where you were from.

“You don’t sound too happy about that place,” Suguru observed as he replied to you directly, “that bad?”

You nodded a little as you made brief eye contact with him, talking yourself into drinking more for the sake of getting out of your bubble.

“[name]?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, completely ignoring the conversation that was otherwise happening.

“Yes?” you asked, suddenly caught just a little off guard from the tone he used. It was somehow accusatory and you weren’t looking forward to whatever happened next.

“I mean this politely, but is this your first time drinking?” he continued to ask.

You gulped down your embarrassment and decided to just go along with it, after all. You knew that it would only look worse for you in the long run if you made a big deal out of such things.

“I-I didn’t really get the chance to do that back home,” you tried to reply, laughing a little at yourself and hoping for the best.

“Really? I wouldn’t imagine that there’s much else to do in a small town, especially one that you’re not too fond of,” he replied, talking a little louder as the alcohol settled in his body.

“I mostly just existed there, I guess,” you said in a tone that was a little too sombre, quickly surrendering to another sip of the liquid comfort. To your peripheral vision, Suguru seemed to paying just a little more attention to you now but you weren’t sure if you were simply just imagining things.

You watched with both comfort and unease as Shoko topped off the glass that you barely finished as the others were by now onto their third glasses and then imitated a gesture of how you’re supposed to drink with her hand, expecting you to follow.

You sighed as you did so, perhaps it was some right of passage that you simply had to follow along. The drink felt sharp in your throat somehow, more so than before. It did wake you up though and to your embarrassment, you felt just a little buzz after it had finally settled.

“Attagirl,” she cheered you on as she patted your back with some pride, “see, you need to pick your poison in a place like this, otherwise it’s gonna burn you out.”

“That why you drink so much and smoke a pack a day?” Satoru teased her, leaning over the table and fishing out a pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket.

“Hey,” she replied as she smacked his hand away, “you’re saying that like you’re not the cause for it.”

“I can’t possibly be that bad enough to give you both a drinking and smoking problem,” he said as he resigned back into his seat.

“Nah, she’s right,” Suguru agreed with Shoko.

“Really?” he asked in a fake exasperated tone, not seeming too surprised about the teasing.

“Are you actually surprised?” Shoko laughed as she topped you up once again.

They continued to laugh and joke with each other, finally relaxing within your company and you finally didn’t feel like such a fourth wheel even if you weren’t contributing much.

You finally also then took hold of your third drink and stared it down with such determination that Satoru even drummed his hands on the table as you were about to drink it. Shoko did the same and Suguru was the last to join.

When you finally downed it without making a face that time, you finally felt relaxed enough to smile and laugh with the rest of them as your milestone was finally met.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe, just maybe, it was finally getting better.

(But if only you knew.)

[docholligay]

What western novels do you recommend? I don’t think I’ve ever read one and was hoping to give it a try!

I LOVE Westerns. I love them even when they aren't particularly good. Whenever people accuse me of hating genre fiction, I'm like, "I think my collection of Westerns begs to differ. I just have DIFFERENT bad taste." (My collection of horror books too)

OKAY SO, MUCH OF THIS DEPENDS ON WHAT YOU'D LIKE TO FIND IN A WESTERN NOVEL.

Perhaps the best Western Novel ever written: Lovesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry.

It's not just me that would say this of Lonesome Dove, I think you can find this on lists of the world's greatest Westerns, it's fairly largely acknowledged as a great American Novel, many books have TRIED to be Lonesome Dove and are not. This book was one of the things Jill and I talked for HOURS about on our first date. We almost mutually changed our last names to McCrae instead of her taking Holligay. She walked down the aisle to the theme from the miniseries.

To MASSIVELY OVERSIMPLIFY, this is the story of a cattle drive from Texas to Montana. But it's about relationships, and dedication, and doing everything right and losing anyhow, sometimes. It's about finding connections. It's about dreams and failures. It contains one of the greatest versions of "the grumpy one is soft for the sunshine one" in platonic form. Also the idea that a friend, who is never anything romantic, can be the love of your life.

A fun revival Western: The Shootist by Glendon Swartout

I actually just reread this! So in the 80s and 90s, Westerns became 'grittier' sort of like comic book movies did in the 00s. This is not an altogether bad thing, and it certainly wasn't all the way to 'gritty' until we get to, movie wise, things like 3:10 to Yuma, which actually is incredible. ANYWAY, so The Shootist breaks from a lot of the molds of 60 and 70s Westerns (upstanding law officer, gang of mustache twirling villains, etc) and is about the last great shootist--what a gunfighter would have been actually called in the 1800s--who is dying of cancer.

I know that does not make it sound fun, but it is, actually, and it is an easy read. Lots of fun Western colloquialisms and there IS depth there if you want to go looking for it, but it's totally extraneous to the enjoyment of the book and also might be half made up in my head.

A great classic Western: Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey

Riders of the Purple Sage is actually responsible for helping form a lot of what we understand as being the Western genre today. This puppy has it all: Gunfights, cattle rustling, the moral code of one's own pride, falling in love with a lonely little woman hell bent to make it on her own.

There are so many things in this novel that will come to define the genre, but because it is a little pre-genre, at least in a strong and stratified way that separates itself from the dimestore novels, it's not as formulaic as you might expect and borrows heavily from early 1900s literature wrought large.

A WESTERN Western: Literally anything by Louis L'amour

Am I here to defend Louis L'amour? No I am not. Do I love Louis L'Amour? Yes absolutely. I am not even so much suggesting that you actually read a L'amour book because I think you really have to love the genre to get into them, but boy are they GENRE. Love them. There's like 5 or 6 plotlines between them. I read them in the tub all the time. I don't even count them toward my books read they are such popcorn. Delightful. I gave them away as favors at my wedding.

A modern Western: All The Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy

Now we're getting into the weeds a bit because there are some people who would argue that a lot of what modern Western literary fiction is, isn't really "Westerns" and I know what they're saying but I don't think I agree. There can be great novels of any genre that break genre, and I think this is just one of those. It has all the hallmarks of a Western.

Anyway, anyone who tells you The Road is Cormac McCarthy's best novel is out of their fucking minds and also probably very boring and controversially either doesn't read much or doesn't read much serious stuff. All of McCarthy's border novels are better than The Road, All the Pretty Horses just happens to be my favorite.

A Western that is probably more fairly slotted into Historical Fiction: Doc: A Novel, by Mary Doria Russell.

This book made me stop writing my Doc Holliday historical novel because I can't do a better job than this.

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 10 - The Talk▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ There’s a certain look in his angry eyes now, one of a quiet desperation.

Desperation for what? 

You grit your teeth.

Confusion and annoyance simultaneously cross your face, because you realize you couldn’t reliably get a proper read on him whatsoever, it being especially frustrating when he always seemed to know what made you tick instead. ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven

Chapter 10 - The Talk

Loud scraping noise is echoing throughout the room, as you drag a chair across the class’ marble floors, sitting in the back as usual. 

There’s contemplation written all across your features while you’re staring outside the window, looking at the common cold season gray skies. You yawn, stretching your joints, massaging the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, preparing for another day to be over.

It’s a long way from over, because it’s literally morning. 

You were up so early today, that you ended up being the only one in class, feeling actually peaceful in the silence for once, something that rarely ever happened to you.

Being late to class wasn’t ever only about sleeping longer, even though that in itself played a huge part. Being late was also about feeling reassured. About hearing the heaps of people replace the never-ending noise in your fucking head. 

You disliked crowds and you fucking hated people, but you despised how lonely you feel in the sea of your suffocating pointless thoughts the most.

And as if you being here before everyone else wasn’t weird enough for you, you also opted to leave your laptop inside your bag, not taking it out like you normally would upon immediately seating yourself. You didn’t check your phone either, choosing to simply stare at the depressingly gray view, wondering if Shigaraki was going to show up today after fucking ghosting your ass last week.

He’d left you (to worry) to wonder all week as to whether or not he’d gotten caught, gotten in trouble. Maybe he wasn’t as invincible as you thought he’d be after all and pulling off a large-scale doxxing operation wasn’t as easy as he made it seem, even for the big bad Shigaraki Tomura.

Not like you had a chance to ask him though, when the last three messages you’d sent were shamelessly left on read.

So instead of that, you’d been wondering about him. So much so, your brain began spotting not-Shigarakis everywhere you fucking went lately.

It’s weird—so incredibly weird, how this character seemed to progressively monopolize your everyday attention ever since you’ve crossed each other’s paths that day. 

It’s also weird how you’ve started to… feel things. For a while now. You’re certain it was his fault for this. For these feelings that you thought you weren’t capable of feeling anymore. Anger, sadness, betrayal and maybe… Maybe something more.

Something that’s been forcefully buried deep, deep down, so you wouldn’t ever have to feel anymore. Something really fucking dangerous.

It never fails to irritate you, thinking about him like this, and you end up doing it often. Your mind starts to wander and you eventually start asking questions that you’re not sure you wanted answers to. Not only that, but no video game, show or stupid fucking playlist could distract you from your thoughts as well as they used to anymore.

Now why the fuck would that be?

In addition to spending your precious free time sinking down the bottomless pit of your mental conundrum, your best friend has also been pestering you lately, asking you to join them to a college party of all fucking things.

It’s the birthday party of one of their hook-ups (you either couldn’t remember who the fuck it was or you didn’t bother to ask), a loose connection or a ‘friend’, as Taylor would sometimes refer to those assholes.

You fucking hate parties, but the way your friend looked at you with their annoying puppy eyes wasn’t lost on you, especially since they’re always going above and beyond to help you out and be by your side whenever you need them to, no questions asked.

(A fat fucking lie, they’d always ask you so many questions.)

Therefore you ended up saying… yes. To both yours and their own surprise. Which by extension also means you have to go shopping for new ‘party-adequate’ clothes today, partly because you don’t wanna embarrass your friend and also because it’s been a while since you’d worn something nice. You don’t, usually, because who the fuck are you trying to impress?

For Taylor however—once again—you’d agreed.

The bell rings, bringing your awareness back to the present as numerous students pour in one-by-one, finding their seats. 

It doesn’t take long to see a familiar black hooded figure, trudging its way to you all the way from the front entrance. The closer he gets with every step, the faster your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, but you don’t understand your feelings well enough to be able to tell why that is.

“Hey,” he greets you first in a rough, quiet voice and avoids your gaze in a way he’s never done to you before. 

You stare.

The man who casually obliterated half the careers in your college like it was nothing. All of it, just for you. The white fucking knight from hell.

He slides down into the seat next to yours, dropping his bag to the side of his chair and still not bothering to look your way. 

It immediately strikes you as odd for him to avoid you, when usually he did nothing but his absolute fucking best to capitalize on your attention, whichever way he thought he could get it. 

Not today, apparently.

“Hey… you good?” 

The words slip out of your mouth before you could realize their implication.

Shigaraki finally turns his head to you, looking a bit taken aback as he does, lips pressed into a thin line and his posture being tense. He doesn’t give you a verbal reply, but instead slightly nods his head once. Which in turn pushes you to pry further.

“Sooo, you left me on read,” you mention casually in a lilt, resting your arm on the desk and supporting your chin with your hand. 

His strikingly red eyes widen and quickly narrow again, gaze scrutinizing your features and scanning for something he couldn’t seem to find. 

You wait patiently, but it doesn’t take long for his lips to part.

“I was uh… busy,” he mutters, hand lifting to scratch at his neck and drawing your attention to the many fresh-looking red angry lines that he doesn’t seem to have trouble deepening.

“With what?” you huff in amusement, elbow sliding along as you lean in nonchalantly, reaching your free hand to put a stop to his absent-minded self-harm. “Did you get in trouble after all?”

Your touch wasn’t exactly tender, but you don’t swat his hand away or grimace this time and he—He notices. Tomura blinks, wondering if you really did hit your head since the last time he’s seen you.

“Huh?”

You quirk a brow and there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. “Are you deaf? I’m asking if you got in trouble after I texted you last time.”

“No?” he scoffs, looking at the hand that’s still holding his.

Your hand.

It’s warm.

And incredibly soft.

A rosy color begins to spread over his pale cheeks, but you only roll your eyes and frown, thinking he’s spacing out and maybe doesn’t really want to talk to you about the details of his crimes. You don’t know why, but there’s the beginnings of irritation building up within you.

“Forget it,” you end up grumbling, clicking your tongue and releasing his hold—but he’s as quick as a cat to grab you by your wrist instead, immediately hitting you with a bout of deja vu and sending you back in time.

There’s a certain look in his angry eyes now, one of a quiet desperation.

Desperation for what? 

You grit your teeth.

Confusion and annoyance simultaneously cross your face, because you realize you couldn’t reliably get a proper read on him whatsoever, it being especially frustrating when he always seemed to know what made you tick instead.

Shigaraki lowers your wrist, slowly and deliberately sliding his cold fingers against your palm, before intertwining them with yours experimentally. And for some unknown reason—both to you and to him—you don’t make a move to pull back this time.

The thought you had while looking into his eyes made you gasp softly.

“Shigaraki…” you whisper, eyes lowering to stare at his thin masculine fingers, holding your hand like you were something he could break. 

His eyes follow your gaze and he finally breathes, tightening his grip on your hand just barely. “Yeah?”

“What… are we doing?” Again?

The moment your eyes met his again, you could physically feel the world spinning on its own axis. He looked less vulnerable now as he looked unsure, while your brain was trying and failing to piece something together. Something important that was missing. 

You're bewitched by a beautiful set of red eyes.

The professor walks in greeting everyone, but Tomura couldn’t care less. It takes him all two seconds to make up his mind and come to a decision.

With a little bit of force, he pulls you out of your chair and drags you on your way out of the classroom. You surprisingly let him without much protest, the back of his dark colored hoodie taking up most of your vision and the shock of unruly white hair bouncing softly in his mission to casually fucking kidnap you from your shared computer science class.

A few curious looks are thrown your way, including that of the fucking professor himself, all of them sparking the need for you to reconsider, but something about Shigaraki’s weird determination and your own curiosity compel you to follow.

His spell slightly wears off the moment you step out of the class, panic filling you as bills of valuables you can’t afford to replace are now left behind.

“Wait! We left our bags in class!” You squeeze his hand slightly, shaking it to get his attention.

“Shut up,” Shigaraki snaps at you unexpectedly, the anger in his voice making your body stiffen.

“What? Where are we going? Hey! Stop!” You finally start to resist, but his grip on you tightens exponentially.

Great fucking question. He doesn’t know where he’s taking you either. This isn’t part of any grand scheme of his, he only knows he needs you alone.

It’s not like you could suddenly read minds, however.

“I said shut UP! Just follow me,” he barks at you again, raising his strained voice and wishing for you to just fucking listen to him for once.

Your lips purse at his shitty reaction. You are not his fucking doormat.

“Or what?” Your tone is challenging and you start putting actual effort into slowing him down, even if it means hurting yourself in his tight grip.

“What?” Shigaraki snaps his head in your direction and finally stops in his tracks, dismayed.

“Or fucking what, I asked!” You try shaking your hand free, but he wouldn’t let you, prompting anger and mockery to quickly weave itself in your voice, “What ya gonna do this time, crazy?”

In the span of a moment, you watch his expression go from irritation to something darker.

Shigaraki finally releases your wrist and you pull away immediately, stepping back while he stalks forward, regret flowing through your veins over whatever stupid fucking idea compelled you to follow him earlier. 

Your back hits the wall in the familiar way it always happens whenever he’s in your proximity. Yeah, definitely deja vu.

“This is not what I wanted to happen—ugh, GODDAMNIT!” he shouts at no one but still ends up making you jump.

Shigaraki briefly runs a hand across his face in obvious frustration, rubbing at his eyes when he finally seems to gather himself and his intense gaze falls back to your face. You can almost feel the weight of his emotions bearing down on you.

The air you breathe becomes charged with an electrifying tension as his haunting red eyes pierce through your soul and an unsettling chill creeps over your skin.

The totality of his attention is now narrowed to yourself and yourself only.

This is the look that he was missing minutes ago.

The trademark Shigaraki look.

He closes the space and cages you in between his arms in a way you now know it’s on purpose, forcing you to focus on him and only him, the way all he could fucking think of lately was you, you, you.

“We’re in the hallway. Again.” You roll your eyes in faux confidence, puffing in his face and furrowing a brow as your voice slightly quivers. “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”

He’s so close you can literally feel the tickle of his breaths against your face. Your rib lightens him up in seconds and he cracks an amused smile, tight expression slightly softening.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“Shigaraki,” you warn, glaring at him sharply.

Fuck, does he hate it when you say his name like that, cold and detached, much rather preferring you saying it differently. Adoringly. Dripping with lust, worshiping him like the god he’s sure he is—calling him by his first name…

“What,” he grumbles in a gravelly tone, mouth slowly inching closer to yours, aching for a taste.

You hesitate, really hesitate for a split second, but catch yourself in time before you lose yourself again. Before you lose yourself to him.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you!” You glance down at his lips, barely a hair away from touching yours. 

He stiffens immediately, rough hands at the sides of your head clenching into two tight fists and his jaw locks.

Tomura wants you. He wants you. He wants you!

“That’s a lie,” he finally whispers, blood-red eyes boring into you the way you’ve come to accept as familiar, searching for confirmation or anything to prove that he’s right, that you’re in fact lying, because he’s this close to fucking losing control again in front of you. To take you by force and undo all his recent efforts to make you like him.

Maybe you wouldn’t be compliant at first, but he’d take you whichever way he can get you, if it meant you would be fucking stuck with him. You’d understand him too one day, surely—

“No! It’s not!” Your brows shoot down, interrupting his dangerous train of thought. “First, explain to me why you thought it was fine to do all that shit to me, to harass me!”

You place your hands on his chest, pushing him back softly. He growls in response, but doesn’t let you create any distance, doesn’t budge a single inch from his rightful spot, towering over you.

It takes a moment for you to process it, but then you realize you aren’t alone. There are footsteps around you, random passerby students walking down the hallway and wearing disgusted looks on their faces. 

You cringe inwardly, growing embarrassed at world record speeds. Shigaraki is pinning you to the wall, and you can only imagine how it must look to anyone witnessing this.

“Y-You know what—” You look around nervously, suddenly painfully aware of your surroundings, before returning your gaze to him and trying to reason, “Let’s not do this here.”

There’s hope inside you. Hope that maybe he’d have a shred of shame, or empathy, or something and understand that this is not okay, but unfortunately he couldn’t care less about your discomfort or how this made either of you look. He never did. Not when you almost got him off last time, not when he humiliated you in front of everyone, not now.

Instead, his mind is more focused on running through all the scenarios, all the possible things he could say to you right now, in order to win you over to his side, but for once, he falls short.

What the fuck could he even tell you? You heard rumors about him, but you probably don’t truly understand their weight. You wouldn’t understand how obsessively he wants to fuck you over, to ruin your life, to destroy your fucking ego, until the only person in the universe left to want you as you’d be—broken and irreparable—would be him. Just him

Because he could. Because no one ever takes away his broken toys.

But he decided a while ago to try and go through the pacifist run for now, in hope you’d become willingly compliant. It’d be much easier if you’d just submit to him, rather than risk you taking the forever exit and never getting to see you again. No, he couldn’t have that.

Tomura can’t tell the difference between romantic feelings and obsession. Between cherishing something or wanting to destroy it before it turns to weakness. But that’s not something you’d ever understand.

So instead, he takes the opportunity to scan over your flustered face, waiting for the correct dialogue option to magically pop up and save this glitchy run, which unfortunately for him, would never happen.

“I fucking like you,” Shigaraki confesses to you bluntly, spitting out the words out like they pain him to say and giving you pause.

You watch him startled as you are, surprise turning into horror as you wait for him to correct himself. Your confusion turns to anger, and the anger makes you seethe.

“So fucking what?” You finally snap out of it, raising your voice and elbowing him away as hard as you could. The ground is swallowing you in. Your nose crinkles in disgust and you go ahead and shout at him, unrestrained. “You’re so fucking twisted if you think that this is how you treat the person you have feelings for—or–or that it would somehow make up for all the fucked up shit you’ve done!”

Hurt flashes across his face and he snarls at you.

“You—!”

“Yes,” Shigaraki hisses, a terrifying smile breaking on his face, the visible pain morphing into something akin to despair in a matter of seconds. “Yes, I’m so, so incredibly fucked up. You’re right on the fucking money.” He chuckles dryly, taking a step back. “What, did you expect a bouquet of flowers and a heartfelt apology from me? Grow the fuck up.”

Wide-eyed and brows creased, you watch him in true disbelief, but before you can retaliate, Shigaraki speaks again first.

“You’re fucking strange! I don’t fucking know how to deal with you. There’s nothing special about you, yet—”

You? You’re strange? You?!

“I can’t get you out of my fucking mind. Every damn day, I obsess with thoughts of… thoughts of you! You’re so fucking annoying. You ignore me, you rile me up, despise me and then you’re friendly again. You act worried about me, ask me if I’m fucking okay! Me! You’re asking ME!” His panicked voice cracks and all previous semblances of composure slip away from him, baring his teeth at you and looking absolutely unhinged.

Nobody asks Shigaraki Tomura if he’s doing fucking okay.

His confession leaves you speechless, but not for long. You lunge forward, grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt with both of your hands and pull him close.

And he bends for you. He always does.

“What gives you the right to have feelings for me, Shigaraki?” Your expression turns sour as you speak. “Do you have any idea—do you even fucking know what I went through, to get here? You don’t know shit. A pathetic little sociopath that’s never learned how to be human. Who uses other people’s fucked up little secrets to own them. For just a little bit of fun.”

Weeks of pent-up anger all slip out of you at once.

“You don’t know anything about who I am, who I was, yet you play with my life and—and act like I’m your fucking toy!” you inhale sharply, “You then manipulate my only fucking friend to get what you want. You come to my house. You pretend you're a good boy. For how long, hm?” You tilt your head and raise your pinched eyebrows in feigned innocence. “How long until you snap again and do it all over again? Until I do something that displeases your Majesty and you quadruple down to make sure I really kill myself this time?” The last of the words tumble out of your mouth and you feel your throat closing, causing you to choke up.

Tomura presses his lips into a tight line, shoulders slumping. He couldn’t let you slip through his fingers like this. He’d picked the wrong option. He’d fucked up.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I told you, I won’t fucking—”

“Do that again? Why?” You can't help but break out into a bout of manic little giggles. “What’s different this time? What’s changed? You want me to believe that just ‘cos your twisted little heart feels something for once—that you’ve changed? You’re a different person?” Your grip on his hoodie tightens, knuckles turning white while all you were seeing was red. 

“You mean it?” You pout at him. “You’ll leave me the fuck alone if I reject your feelings right fucking now? That you’ll never talk to me if I fucking ask you to? Pinky—fucking—promise?!”

Shigaraki’s body tenses up and you feel it.

He couldn’t deny and he couldn’t promise you any of that. You’ve seen straight through his nature and he’d underestimated you. Should’ve known better, judging by all the things he’d dug up about you. Watching your disgusting joke of an ex abuse you and then him using that against you, posting the media for everybody to see, only to bring you down under his foot where he wanted you to belong.

No, you’re absolutely right about him.

Still, he hates the impact your words have on him. He hates the way you make him feel.

“Hm? Not even going to go ahead and deny it? Maybe lie a little?” You release him with a sardonic smile plastered onto your face. ��Fucking thought so.”

You resist the urge to pat him down, the way he did to you after the presentation months ago. 

Instead, you click your tongue and turn your back on him—but the snake slithers his long arms around your waist and presses you close to him. You feel his heart thumping violently against your back, erratic breathing against your neck.

“Let go,” you warn carefully.

“No,” Shigaraki grunts. “No, you’re coming with me and we’re going to fucking fix this.”

Alarms go off in your head and your fingers desperately twist the fabric of his black sleeves, working to pry his hands away from you. 

“Fucking—Fucking let go of me Shigaraki. Now!” Your voice cracks as you struggle uselessly. “I’m fucking done talking to you. I don’t want to see your stupid fucking face ever again!”

And if there’s one thing you hate more than obsessive psycho-assholes, it’s obsessive psycho-assholes with the strength and ability to ignore you saying no to them, physically taking your autonomy away. 

There’s no one on sight who can help you, and that thought angers you even more until—

“Please…” he whispers so quietly you almost don’t catch it. And then all of the sudden, his hold on you is gone.

You thought either hell froze over or you’ve finally lost it, because if you heard correctly, Shigaraki is fucking begging you. You, of all people.

“...What?” You turn your head, mouth ajar to stare at the most horrified you’ve ever seen him be. 

He doesn’t repeat himself.

Instead, he backs away, eyes wide like those of a wounded animal, turning around and storming off on squeaking converse. Leaving you in the dust for once.

Several moments pass and you’re still standing there, looking in the direction Shigaraki had disappeared, trying to wrap your head around the entire fucking situation.

You eventually turn around, different emotions overwhelming your senses as you begin stomping your way back to the classroom to retrieve your belongings. 

Anger. Confusion. Shame.

When the hell did your life turn into a fucking soap opera all over again?

─────────

It's getting progressively cold lately, you notice. A temperature that the thin fabric of your cheap clothes wouldn’t be able to shield you from, especially not today.

You’re waiting outside of the campus gates for Taylor, for you to finally go shopping together, hoping that will cheer you up, distract you from the earlier… incident.

“Jeez, babe. Did a truck run you over on the way out?” Taylor quips upon finding your gloomy form leaned against the fence.

“Fuck off with that and let’s go, I’m freezing.”

They eye you suspiciously for a moment, until a knowing smirk forms on their stupid fucking face.

“Anyway, so—I pretty much bombed my history exam today, but get this! Did you know that the professor…”

It’s probably been like five minutes total since entering the mall’s forever 21—maybe ten if you’re really generous, and it makes you roll your fucking eyes because you’ve already somehow ended up losing your friend to the sea of endless clothing articles.

Navigating around on your own like the big girl you are, you manage to actually find a cute band shirt and some black jeans you could add to your lackluster wardrobe. Taylor should be proud.

You’re in the middle of wondering what exactly your friend meant by ‘looking good’ for a party you didn’t care for, when you accidentally bump into something—or someone.

“Ah shit, my bad—” you quickly say, as you turn around and your eyes meet a pair of beautiful turquoise ones.

It stuns you and your gaze lingers a second longer than it’s appropriate, making you look away one moment too late by the time you realized you were staring. 

You feel your face going up in flames, blushing like a fucking teenager.

The person you accidentally bumped into, is an incredibly handsome dude, black ink tattoos covering most of his features—and daddy issues—burnt jet black dyed hair and the darkest, hottest eye-bags you’ve ever seen anyone have before. Not to mention the nose, ears and lips are all pierced. Multiple times.

Guy looks like he came straight out of a rock band performance and you feel like you’re about to be taken to the back stage.

He watches you intently, an amused smile gracing his lips.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” the for-sure playboy says with an impossibly husky voice, and you fucking go beet-red at the sound of it. At the prospect of him giving you attention.

You’re not used to being around men so fucking out of your league, let alone have them be hitting on you.

You used to fantasize that you weren’t the type to fall for them so easily. That you’re not like the others.

That makes you a) incredibly lucky for it to happen to you and b) incredibly wrong and delusional about what kind of person you really are. 

It took you twenty something years to get to where you finally realized it, but as it turns out, you are absolutely the fucking type to fall for charismatic sweet talk and attention—especially when said attention came from goth fuckboys with black hair and gorgeously blue eyes.

“F-Fuck off, dude,” you bark with no bite, feeling especially embarrassed at him catching you off-guard like this.

“That’s the plan doll, but you’re kind of blocking the way.” He chuckles and your eyes widen for a second before you begrudgingly step out of his way.

You really hope this would be the last of your awkward interaction with him, but the universe must fucking hate you, because instead of fucking off like he promised he would, his lips part away again to speak.

“So that’s what you’re into, huh?” The guy attempts to make small talk, pointing at the band shirt in your arms.

“Huh? Ah. Sure. Used to be,” you answer mechanically, looking anywhere you could but him.

“That so? What are ya into now, then?”

God, the fucking awkwardness could kill you.

Why is he engaging with you when there’s ‘sweethearts’ all over this fucking store?! Is he the type to hit on literally anybody? You couldn’t help but feel like he was one hundred percent toying with you.

“Honestly n-none of your business. I’d like to go find my friend now, so—bye.” You turn to walk away, to find your fucking friend and escape this suffocating situation, but life was never fucking easy. The usual.

“Yo, stop trying to wriggle away from me. At least tell me what your name is.” He puts a warm hand on your shoulder and you immediately tense up. “Mine’s—”

“Dabiiiiiii!” 

You hear your friend squeal in the distance and turn your head to them, feeling dumbfounded.

“Tay?” His smile widens.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“You guys know each other?!” asks your friend, before wrapping their arms around ‘Dabi’ and giving him a good squeeze. He ‘pats’ their back, fingers pressing and feeling around their body in what you could only describe as incredibly lewd, and you scowl.

“We were getting there.” He gives you a lazy smile and then fucking winks.

“Who’s this guy?” You ignore him, glaring at your friend and throwing a thumb backwards at this ‘Dabi’ dude.

“I’m right next to you, angel,” he replies, leaning in too fucking close for your comfort, hot and minty breath making contact with your neck.

You shoot both of them a bewildered look, step backwards and cover the spot with on your neck with a hand like he just shot hot flames against it.

“Dabi! Don’t pick on her! She’s my little wallflower!” Taylor says obnoxiously, using a sickly sweet tone you’ve only seen them use on people they wanna sleep with.

Both of them treat you like the fucking middle child, standing in the way between them and the bedroom and making you hate your friend for it. Neither seem to mind though, too busy gazing deeply into each other’s eyes like you’ve seen in those shitty movies Taylor forces you to watch.

It’s fucking gross and you’re gearing up to leave.

“That so? She’s fuckin’ cute. Think she’ll give me her number?” The stranger nudges you before belatedly breaking eye contact with your friend and looks at you. “Mm, what do you say, doll?”

“You know what?” You give Taylor a tense grin. “Fuck this, fuck yourselves, and then text me when you’re done.” 

After flipping them off and throwing the clothes you picked up earlier back on the pile, you quickly storm out of the cursed store.

“Sheesh, a lively one, huh?” His lazy grin spreads. “Was only fuckin’ around. You think she’s really mad at me?”

“Mmm, don’t tease her too much, Dabi. She’s been through a lot lately.” Taylor cups his cheek fondly.

“Yeah? Reminds me of a… friend I have, actually. I’d bet a heavy stack they’d get along well,” he murmurs absentmindedly, finally turning his attention to them fully and leaning in for a kiss.

Taylor reciprocates, flicking their tongue against his lower lip almost immediately and silently asking for access. He could only groan, more than happy to oblige.

You end up walking around the mall aimlessly by your lonesome and god were you pissed at your friend for ditching your shopping date for some random hot guy, after they begged you to go with them for so long.

The mall is relatively full. Maybe even too full for your taste, it being afternoon and having a trillion families and couples running around in the capitalistic maze as you still fester in your anger. 

Various scents such as perfume, baked goods and stall foods enter your nostrils. You already feel yourself wanting to go home and ditch your friend the way they fucking ditched you.

But you decide to suck it up when you see the nearest GameStop on the second level, only a couple of feet away if you went up the escalator. At least that seems like a way to kill some time while your friend was getting some. That, and you grabbing something to eat after you get bored.

There’s a few other nerds browsing the aisles when you enter, quietly conversing with each other as you casually start looking around, passing by ugly funko-pops and not really looking to buy anything. The speakers are playing ads of newly released games with over-the-top sound effects, and you scoff asking yourself if they think that’s what’s gonna make you buy anything from them.

Even if they somehow did work on you, you’d have to go home and buy them digitally. There’s no point in buying anything physical, seeing as you never know when you’ll have to move again. It’d be nice to start collections, however. To be able to keep them, but you know better than to trust your life not to fuck you over again.

In the future, when you’ve secured a well paying job and an apartment that you could call your forever home, you’ll make sure to fill it in with whatever your heart fucking desires. 

But for now, you decide to lose yourself in looking at all the displayed products, positively overwhelmed by colors and shapes of your nostalgia. You read the titles you used to play, pick up merch of your favorite franchise and just quietly live in the moment, nursing the forgotten child inside you.

You glance at the cashier who looked ‘making-less-than-minimum-wage’ bored, scrolling mindlessly on her phone as some bozo complained about broken headphones but didn’t bother to bring the receipt. 

Rolling your eyes, you keep walking ahead, picking and prodding at various items on the shelves. You’re planning to go to one of the cafes close by after this and wait for your friend there, while working on some of your assignments.

Until you hear your name spoken out loud by some guy behind you.

If this was a cartoon (and the comedic timings certainly make it seem like one), there would be a cross-popping vein appearing on your fucking forehead right about now. Why couldn’t anyone leave you the fuck alone today? Was that too much to fucking ask for? 

You turn around to get a look at whatever asshole ended up recognizing you and are met with a pair of familiar brown eyes. 

“...Hey,” you say, swallowing emptily. 

This officially marks the third fucking embarrassing thing that happened to you today. You honestly thought you’d never see this guy again. No, more like, you banked on it, which is also the reason you never ended up shooting him a message. 

After all that’s happened to you in the almost two months that since passed, it now feels a little fucking silly to not have texted him this entire time.

Not for a lack of trying, though. You were often debating with yourself to just fucking do it, but opted against it every time, as you felt the grace period was long over and he probably wouldn’t have appreciated your half-assed attention anyway.

It takes you around a split second of looking at his face to recognize the simple truth. You were dead fucking wrong.

“H-Hi!” He beams at you.

“Hey… It’s uh—it’s been a while.” 

You scratch the back of your neck and look at his appearance properly, now that it's not obstructed by dim colorful arcade lighting in the middle of the night.

A thick white beanie crowns his loose, messy, long purple hair, and the graphic tee he wears—a superhero anime you’d only caught glimpses of online—is clearly one or two sizes too big for him. Your almost-friend is really buff actually, short sleeves revealing endless weeks of training. 

But what catches your attention are the reading glasses that you’re positive he didn’t wear the first time you’ve encountered him—or did he?—and subsequently the smattering of acne scars that lay down uneven patterns of rugged skin, making you wonder just how painful that must’ve been to deal with.

Despite all that, it’s the reluctant shy demeanor contrasting his intimidating rough features that made you recognize him straight away.

Your almost-friend. The arcade guy.

“What brings you here?” you ask, turning your attention to a cute mug in your hands, feeling the cool ceramic surfaces and pondering if you should make an exception to your no-buying-shit rule just this once.

“I—uhmm. I actually came here with a friend, but w-we split up earlier. I wanted to see if they finally had a copy of Elden Ring here. It’s been sold out for like a freaking week now, I can’t find it anywhere! I’ve been on a Souls marathon for the past three months, waiting for the release, but all the stupid bots scalped every copy off the goddamn internet!” The guy rolls his eyes, folding his hands before he catches himself and looks at you nervously, rubbing his right arm and suddenly feeling self-conscious. “A-Ah, my bad! I went off talking too much again. W-What about you? Why are you here?”

“Uhh, same thing, actually. My friend—” You frown, remembering why the two of you ended up separating. “We also kinda… split.”

“Really? That’s crazy!” He bounces on his feet a little more excitedly than he should’ve. You find him as cute now as he was back then, despite not having bothered to remember his name.

Oh shit. What is his name, actually? You’d saved him in your contacts under ‘arcade guy’.

“So, umm. There’s uhh—there’s an electronics store one floor below. W-Would you like to try the new VR-Headset with me? Pretty sure they offer a round of Payday 2 for free if we ask,” arcade guy proposes shyly, gauging your reaction and threading between taking his word back or letting you answer.

He definitely sees hesitation in your face, but you just put the mug back in its place and then smile at him.

“Sure, fuck it. Why not?”

“Fuck—! There’s only one bag left, hurry!” gamer dude exclaims, but unfortunately, you’re downed again.

“Shit, this VR shit is tripping me out. I can’t aim for shit.”

“It’s ok, hold, hold, hold—I got you!”

By the time he ‘got’ you though, a dozer fucks him up and you both lose miserably. You take your headset off and notice that both of you were kind of sweaty and out of breath.

“Oh, shit! What’s the time? Shit, shit, shit.” He puts the headset and the controllers back in place and looks at his phone. You do the same. “Ahhh, he’s so gonna kill meee!” He panics after reading presumably a text on his phone, proceeding to walk off. “Gotta find my friend again, but it was really, really fun! See you ‘round!” 

He’s waving at you, but before he can leave, you subconsciously reach two fingers and yank him by the back of his collar.

“Urk—!” he coughs, getting mildly strangled by the material before shooting you a nervous look. “What was that for?”

“I uhh… I never got your name, actually—and I had fun too.” You are of course lying, but you know this, which is why you look away feeling guilty.

“P-Pretty sure I told you my name last time.” The guy fidgets with the collar of his t-shirt, a blush spreading on his acne-ridden skin.

Not cutting you any slack, huh?

“I know, I know. I’m really sorry for—”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself, really!” He laughs nervously. “I really enjoyed gaming with you, though. At the arcade and here too, but I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything when I asked you to come here on a whim. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“N-No, listen,” you begin, staring at your shoes and feeling remorseful. “There’s nothing wrong with you and I’m not forcing myself. I’m just really, really bad at maintaining human connections. I push everyone away, not just you. So don’t, uhh. Don’t feel bad about it, okay? I was wrong. I’d really like to game with you again sometime. It really is fun.”

You reach your sweaty-ass hand out for a handshake. He stares at it hesitantly for a second and then takes it.

“Honest?” he asks.

“Honest,” you answer.

“That’s fucking awesome!” He bounces on his feet before adding, “I-I was actually replaying that night in my head over and over, trying to figure out what I did to mess up…”

You must’ve made a face, because he quickly tries to rectify. “I-I mean! It’s okay now. I’m also… bad at making friends. So I like—understand.” His phone goes off, startling him in the process. “Shit, shit, shit. Gotta run!” He spins on his foot and paces away. 

“Name’s Shuichi, by the way!” Shuichi shouts at you on his way out and you smile, waving at him and pulling out your phone to make sure his name gets properly saved this time around.

It doesn’t take long for you to follow, making your way out of the tech store and leaning on the railing of the floor as you throw one last look at the mall’s exit, watching long purple hair bouncing around from a jog to catch up with… goth dude? They know each other?

Immediately after, Taylor calls you up.

“So. I bought you some shit I know you’ll like.” They let out a charming giggle before continuing, “Oh, your Holiness! Will you ever forgive me for hooking up in the forbidden changing rooms?” Your friend gasps. “Do you wanna know what his dick looks like?! You know how he has piercings all over? Well—”

“Ew, ew, ew! Gross! Taylor, please—” You grimace, praying they were joking.

“Oh my god, he also really wanted to have your number btw! I didn’t give it to him ‘cos I didn’t want you to bitch at me, but we’ll see him at the party! Girl, I’m so excited for Saturday!” They squeal into your ear. “Hold on! Don’t move! I think I see youuu! You’re that gloomy bitch that’s bent over the railing, right?”

Your friend waves at you enthusiastically with like thirty bags in their hands, all the way from the other side of the floor. How they even spotted you from the other side of the mall will forever be a complete mystery to you.

“Can we leave now? I wanna go home.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, babes. Bet ya bought like, at least three stupid games from the nerd store while I was getting that dick. Don’t even lie to me, girl!” 

You blush, standing still and waiting for them to catch up to you. 

“Only one, actually.”

Both of you snort and break into a chuckle fit as they’re closing in. Your friend skips the last few steps to you, hooks their arm into yours and pulls you forward with them, as if it wasn’t you who was waiting for them this entire fucking time. “C’mon, we gotta catch the bus.”

“Okay, but you are buying your own fucking ticket this time around, right?”

“Riiiight.” They giggle.

You roll your eyes and smile at your friend, burning red eyes plaguing the back of your mind for the days to follow, as will the four little words that you swear you could still hear him speak into your ears.

“I fucking like you.”

[ultimaid]

do you have any headcanons for kirumi?

anon, i am going to need you to be more specific than that. ^^;; i have a lot of headcanons for kirumi. i’ll try to share a few simple ones… but if you want more feel free to ask!

i see her as bisexual and somewhere along the ace spectrum!

she is heavily autistic-coded in my opinion, and i fully lean into that in my characterization of her. she is an autistic maid.

she cooks and cleans as a method of self-soothing! when she’s stressed, she starts cleaning whatever’s nearby or asking people what they need. it helps her feel calm and steady, having a goal to work toward that will make others happy.

she speaks several languages due to having had clients from all over the world. she’s best at korean and french, but her english is improving as well! she likes french and english music a lot, with artists like edith piaf and frank sinatra being favorites.

speaking of music, she tends to prefer older japanese music, her favorite decades being the forties through the eighties (which gets her teased by kokichi for having “grandma music taste”). she’s also a big fan of classical music, which she bonds with kaede over.

she’s most used to cooking japanese cuisine, but she’s learned a lot of international recipes from rantaro and korekiyo! she has a very wide palate, but if she had to pick a favorite culinary region that wasn’t japan, she would probably say greek and mediterranean food, with filipino cuisine being a close second.

one of her hobbies is cake decorating! she likes to make really elaborate cakes for celebrations. someday, when her friends start getting married, she’d like to make their wedding cakes.

she was incredibly shy and lonely as a child and has always had a hard time making friends. we see slivers of this in the game, when (in her free time events) she struggles to bond with the protagonist outside of a subservient role.

she wouldn’t consider herself an artistic or creative person, but sometimes she does fiber arts like embroidery and sewing. she once made himiko a little plush dove for her birthday and discovered a love for making stuffed animals.

speaking of embroidery, most of her clothes are hand-embroidered by her!

sometimes rantaro does her nails, and she does his in return. she always asks for clear polish, since she doesn’t like how nail polish looks when it gets chipped.

feel free to ask for headcanons about specific things as well!! these are just a few general ones i came up with.

[columbidae-creature]

my alterhumanity: sorting things out. (will update later probably)

I just feel lonely and kinda want to lay out what my deal is somewhere people can see.

my kintypes

I relate most to therianthropy for all of these, because animality is an important aspect of all of them I think. but I will also at times call myself otherkin.

rock dove (Columba livia) - my main deal honestly. other parts of my identity are very important but I am a pigeon first, in a lot of ways. have a lot to say about this but that would take too long here.

werewolf - duality is incredibly important to me. in both my gender (man and woman) and my mood problems (manic and depressed) and my alterhumanity (human and not)

fairy - some other family members are also fairies, interestingly!

my hearttypes

just as important to me as kintypes but different in nature. the bird in me specially defines this as something I would fly in a mixed flock with.

dark eyed junco - became connected to them following a suicide attempt recently.

cormorant - similar to the juncos, cormorants are little avatars of hope in my life, though in different ways. I always look for cormorants.

salmon - my pigeoneity leads to a drive to fly home, and in some ways I feel this also manifests in a salmon-y way too. I have journeyed far from my birthplace, but I still feel a pull to it, and I fear I may have to return to it one day in the end.

human - I just love the things. may not be a human, or maybe I am, who knows, but I love humanity, and I love human things!

common cameo shifts:

common enough that they are a part of my identity

all other pigeon species

chicken

fly

all true bugs

permanent residents of my soulbonding system:

me (livia)!!!

Queen Sectonia from Kirby

possibly Freddie Trumper from Chess - has not left yet but who knows what will happen in the future

2 - an alternate universe version of me who died in a car accident at the age of 13 and ended up here

Ewan Lowell - popular folk musician from the 1960's not from this universe but perhaps another. @inside-ewan-lowell

current posic companion:

Blue - a crow lawn ornament in my neighbourhood

daemon:

May - a coconut octopus, usually

[c0zmo-writes]

Notes for chapter 10 of Birds of a Feather.

Warning!! This chapter is a bit rough! Includes intrusive thoughts, one mention of throwing up, and disordered eating.

Chapter 10- Mindless Misery

@possum-quesadilla @crawlingcarcass @raineisinkless @katslitterbox

“An’ I’m an impulsive guy, ya know that, but don’tcha think maybe we should just sleep it off?”

You know it’s bad when Beetlejuice is the voice of reason.

“She didn’t stop sprinting until a tree root sent her (and her knife) flying a few feet forwards.”

Just like the beginning scene in chapter 1. Shilo and tree roots do not go together.

“Beetlejuice?” Shilo called out to the air with the little strength she had left. She got no answer but the quiet sway of trees. He was gone.”

Haha she is… not seeing him for a while!

“After a few hours, Shilo picked herself off the ground with great difficulty.”

She laid on the ground for about 2 hours. Her poor back.

“Two weeks passed. Shilo drove for hours. Flipped off more than a few leaf peepers.”

When you’re trying to find your boyfriend but you live in a Vermont forest and it’s peak foliage 😔

“Her house became surrounded by mourning doves and corvids.”

How fitting.

“That night, that cold Halloween night, Shilo considered driving back home to Connecticut. Seeing her parents again. She hadn’t thought about going home since she left all those years ago, but now, she craved company more than anything.”

Shilo does not visit her parents in this one. I’m thinking of writing a part three to this series that’s centered on her going back to Connecticut.

“She couldn’t do it. As lonely as she was, the thought of Beetlejuice coming back to an empty home saddened her more than anything.”

Imagine you fight you fight your way through hell trying to get back home and your girlfriend just. isn’t there.

“The next day, Shilo put on her old ratty lab coat, the same one she used to wear when she was first searching for Beetlejuice.”

Full circle babyyyyy

“She whistled little tunes to the birds and tossed them birdseed.”

She whistles the same tune every time she feeds them. She’s training them to flock to her when she calls.

“Tuscan bean soup”

I had this soup in December of last year when I caught a horrible cold. I had it almost every day for a week. It was so good that I had to pay tribute to it.

“She had a specific whistle that she made every time she went out with food, in hopes they would recognize it and follow her around like some kind of morbid Disney princess.”

It’s a dream I share with her.

“It placed a single packet of Skittles at Shilo’s feet before morphing back into the harpy she knew and loved. He stumbled and winced as he tried taking a step forward. “Howdy, babes. Miss me?”

He’s back!

Sorry that this chapter was more depressing than usual. I wrote this in February when I was incredibly depressed and also getting over a breakup. Gave me great writing inspo though!

[highway-35]

legitimately insane theory/au but: what if axle (hwlr) and tezz (bf5) are half siblings??????? featuring a lot of headcanons

the volitov family comes from novaya chara, and tezz conducted his experiments in the chara sands. they're a prominent family of physicists, and both of the volitov parents spoke internationally tezz's interest in electromagnetism deviated from his parents interest in vehicle engineering, but he was able to apply his parents knowledge to build his prototype vehicle

after tezz's disappearance, his mom committed suicide out of grief, while his father dove into his research in order to try and find him again

this resulted in him, along with several others, to create what is how the hot wheels: let's race universe and found hot wheels city

now using the pseudonym of striker spoiler, he used his engineering knowledge to become a prominent racer in the city, going to great lengths to cover up his involvement in its founding

axle was an accident baby, with striker undergoing a shotgun wedding to hide it. he still loves axle, but definitely couldnt contribute a lot to his development especially when he was younger due to his various responsibilities

striker focused a lot on teaching axle to race and focused less on academics because of how traumatized he was due to tezz's disappearance and (what striker presumes to be) death. he didnt want axle to do the same thing that tezz did, he didnt want to lose his son. this also helped stunt axle's growth

axle is incredibly lonely, so so SO fucking lonely, which is what causes him to act out the way he does. is extremely attached to sidecar (sidecaxle is another post though)

after the defeat of the red sentients, tezz begins preliminary research on other universes, partially inspired by the opposite universe and their bf5's existence. this is how he discovers the hwlr universe

that discovery prompts him to start surveilling hot wheels city, in which he finally sees his father again. he travels there in order to meet his family, albeit faking much of his backstory to avoid revealing the truth and putting the rest of the bf5 in danger. this is without the knowledge of, or at least minimal knowledge of, the bf5

both tezz and axle are shocked to find out they have a brother, both believing they were only children. striker nearly doesn't recognize tezz because of how long it had been, but once tezz introduces himself, striker knows he's the real deal

there's a lot of grief, especially for tezz's mother, as striker believes she died for nothing (and tezz wasn't even aware of her death). striker's trauma comes out in full swing. it is all very ugly.

tezz, as is his habit, records an audio diary. it helped keep him grounded when he was on the red sentient moon. during a sleepless night, axle overhears what tezz is saying, and has so many questions.

axle ends up confronting tezz about his lies, and tezz doesn't budge. striker gets involved. tezz leaves out of frustration, striker locks himself away, and axle follows tezz to uncover the truth behind his family.

axle tries to sneak into the spectra motors garage, but gets caught before he can access the hub. the bf5 knows nothing about the extended volitov family, and thus axle sleeps on the couch for a night while the team debates on what to do.

they end up letting axle into the hub, on the condition he stays silent about it. they say its because the war is over and that that they have nothing to lose, but really, a lot of the bf5 come from their own broken homes, and would feel extremely guilty about not letting axle get closure.

stanford, zoom and axle end up forming a really strong friendship because of how much mutual shit they went through, especially coming from prominent families that ended up lying to their faces all their lives

axle never brings it up to anyone in hot wheels city (mainly he believes that nobody would believe him anyway, so why bother), but later INSISTS that people call him axle volitov and not axle spoiler, at BEST spoiler is a middle name. he stops bringing up his father at all, and really resents him for lying to everyone for all these years.

in conclusion: that boy needs therapy

[adreamthatsworthkeeping]

I've learnt my lesson from BBC Ghosts where I dove into immediate reactions without thinking things through.

Having finished season four of TUA, I definitely can see where all the criticism comes from, but at the same time, it wasn't as bad as I feared (despite still being bad).

The main thing was the fact there was very little character arcs/plot for most of the siblings. Klaus got one, but at the same time he doesn't grow, he also gets stuck back where he was and he and Alison resume relying on one another and learn nothing.

As far as I could tell Alison had no plot, side story, or arc. She gets back into Klaus' codependency and that's about it.

Viktor had one where he gets acknowledgement he has great skills and should have been allowed to be in the team, so there's great closure there for him. But his main thing was trying to save Ben with closure on the side.

Luthor was the butt of jokes when he had anything to say at all. His whole life seemed depressing and he had no growth and would have gone back to doing the same thing powers or no powers. He was also a bit of a loser in the main one, but being a dag is different to being a loser.

Diego finally pulled his finger out and managed to realise his wife was great and he shouldn't have a one person pity party about how much his life sucks. It's a typical bored hero, kinda like where Mr Incredible could have gone if he blamed his wife for his boring life. His resentment on Lila for having a hobby when he didn't was stupid and I'm annoyed they did the boring suburban life bickering couple for these two. After seeing them kick arse in season three it was a shame to break them down like that. The CIA stuff was just embarrassing.

The time on the train could have been done better for Five and Lila. More bickering, conversations, more dialogue between the pair as they fought to escape. That would have eased off the weird vibes of them suddenly getting close. You need to see the struggle, even if we stayed underground, show the conversations, have them talk about their old life more, about missing birthdays and regret the fights.

I see that Lila wanted companionship, but she needed to go on about how much she missed her family and realised she didn't want a break from Diego. She needed that, we needed that to give her some depth and show us she didn't get with Five flippantly, but kinda got lonely and lost and feels bad.

Five I think was hard because after growing up alone in an apocalypse and having to come back, grow up again, and get caught up in the world ending, he didn't have a lot of relationships so Lila might have been his first real feelings and he was lost and confused himself. He didn't have a love interest to fall back on, but the fact he doesn't realise how Lila's looking at things is ridiculous considering his attachment to Delores. He knows what being alone does, he should be the one who understands the most. Not have his puppy dog eyes at being hurt. But I do get how he feels rejected because it was a long time, even if they weren't together the whole seven years, the emotional dependency is hard to break. But the writers brush over it, use your words and maybe just once say what you're feeling instead of starting and looking sad.

As for the rest.

The entire thing in the car with the vomit was insufferable and it's a miracle anyone pushed past that episode to even see the other episodes.

The actual plots they had made no sense and didn't connect. Klaus' had nothing to do with anything, it was a reasonable side plot at least, every one had a smidge side plots that barely connected so there was no flow in the season because it was just mashed together. Klaus' was the closest to being a good plot though, even if it's sad he had to regain his powers.

The whole Jennifer thing could have been good, was it to give Ben more time after being missing/dead for the other seasons? But it didn't make sense and was poorly explained. So Jennifer and Ben were drawn together because...reasons? They didn't have the same powers, they assumed Jennifer was one of them but she didn't show powers (or they were repressed like Viktor?). How did Reggie know to keep them apart? Did they meet as kids?

Jean and Gene were great though. Good work there, that was a nice addition. The weird side addition of the dead wife possessing people was odd but kinda worked in a MIB style.

But so much wasn't explained, I didn't need things to be spelt out, but the fact it came from nowhere and had to be worked out as a fan group means it needed better execution. I can pick up clues and inferences, but some stuff didn't have anything to hold onto to even work out.

As for the Care Bear Stare ending. It wasn't as bad as I had heard. I understand the 'better if we weren't born' idea. but it didn't come across that way. It was 'we need to prevent more disasters from happening, we are stuck in a loop and this needs to break'. Not, 'our lives are meaningless and we shouldn't have been born'. There is a difference. They save the world one last time with sacrifice, not admit they shouldn't have ever been born and their lives are meaningless. I didn't get that vibe. Plus they get their closure, they feel better, and still get to save the world. They don't die feeling like soldiers or puppets.

[spamtongreal1]

srry if this is a weird question I just like learning about system’s bc I think I may be one myself but how many alters do you have, whats it like, and how did you realize you were a sys?

hey! not a weird question at all, no worries!

we have over 100 alters— we have an incredibly low split tolerance, and the AuDHD doesn't help </3

what's it like being a system, or with that many? to answer both at once, you're never really lonely— there's lotsa people in the headspace to talk to. being a system, it's also odd because you get fakeclaimed a lot! people'll say you're mirroring, or it's just The Autism.

we found out we were a system from taking about 9 online tests, which were as many as we could find in one sitting that we were motivated enough to take. i know, it's self diagnosing, but other systems (professionally diagnosed and self diagnosed) agreed we may be a system, and we don't really have any doctors for that field around where we live, anyway. we also dove into a lot of research, talked to system friends about what it's like, and realised how much we related to it. our core eventually figured out how to communicate with us, and they've done an incredible job at helping us unmask.

if you think you might be a system— i have some information for you about system. this carrd is our favourite to redirect people to, because it was the first things we went to.

if you have doctors around where you are— please check with them! if you have any more specific questions, you can shoot us another ask! we don't bite!

[disneyanddisneyships]

So far all we’ve known about carol is that shes a miserable housewife who has a bad husband and she loves her son and swears to protect him but fails and she self deletus and everything

Im curious about her personality. I think the other hobbies I know of her is baking, and im taking a lucky guess she learned from her mum.

So like— to make her own spotlight without having J*hn anywhere mentioned in the picture (like Alistar. A himbo who likes writing and has his own personality aside from crying about his father. Canon Alistar on the other hand, is a well written villain! He acknowledges his actions in the end. He has a fucked up mindset and he’s willing to get what he wants.) How about some fun facts about Carolyn? Like you did with Alison?

Idk i went on a full rant about this lol

Hmm let's see....

Carolyn is an only child. she came from a very respectable family.

Her father was a very stern man, but she knew she was loved. And her mother was a very kind woman.

Carolyn and her mother loved to cook in their past time, and her father taught her to read.

Carolyn was also very fond of dancing. Like the kind of dancing you'd do in a small town.

On holidays, as a teenager she absolutely loved to be involved in everything. Her people loved her and she was known as the kindest princess to ever live in the kingdom.

As a little girl she loved to climb trees and get dirty in the soil of the roses her mother would plant.

And even though she was betrothed, she had quite a few suitors before that.

From the time she was a little girl she had always imagined her wedding to be an incredibly happy thing.

She loves birds. She was practically a classic Disney princess with all the birds she constantly brought home to show her parents. (One of them being a Dove)

She loved flowy gowns that she could run around in.

her father taught her to dance properly. She tended to step on his toes a lot. This turned into a family thing where her mother joined in and they spun in a circle laughing together.

She felt lonely sometimes due to her lack of siblings and people her age around the castle... but she payed no mind to it most of the time.

When Carolyn turned 17, her mother died.

Her father got a bit sadder, and she was able to tell, but her kingdom began to lack money, and proper funds to keep it a nice place.

She remained hopeful though, and went out every day to help the town.

Her favorite color is yellow.... her favorite animal is a fawn....

[billysigudla]

Mark 1:9-15 (1:13) Have you ever felt like you were wandering in the wilderness? Like the Israelites, after coming out of Egypt? Going into the wilderness is not something for the faint of heart, believe me! I have periodically spent time in the wilderness, throughout my decades of walking with Christ, and that time was not pleasant or easy, to be sure! I don’t mean completely, physically on my own, stranded out dozens of miles from anyone in a trackless wasteland! No, but I certainly felt that way. I felt parched, even though I had water to drink. Famished, even though I had food to eat. The Lord seemed silent to me, withdrawn from me, and that was the worst thing in the world. That was why I was lost in the spiritual wilderness. Have you ever felt like you were lost, with the Lord withdrawn from you, too? Our Scripture reading today comes from the Gospel of Mark, and it is a very short reading. Spare, and to the point. It tells us about our Lord Jesus, at the beginning of His ministry, right after His baptism. Let me read this important part again: 12 At once the Spirit made Jesus go into the desert, 13 where he stayed forty days, being tempted by Satan. Wild animals were there also, but angels came and helped him. One of Mark’s favorite words is immediately! In another translation, it’s phrased another way: at once! Mark doesn’t use a ton of words to say what he wants to say. Immediately! is one of those words he uses a lot, carrying us along on this nonstop roller coaster ride of our Lord Jesus, His life and ministry. We are going to place special emphasis on the first stop in our journey. At once the Spirit made Jesus go into the desert, where he stayed forty days. I have wondered at that phrase for a long, long time: the Spirit made Jesus go into the desert. Is there some kind of holy inevitability to Jesus’ being violently impelled into the wilderness? Jesus must have been riding high immediately after His baptism! I mean, having His Heavenly Father give affirmation and praise to Jesus, in such a public forum? That must have been unbelievable, at the very least.             The next thing that Mark states in his typical economy of language is that the Holy Spirit of God – the third person of the Trinity – led Jesus out. The New International Version translates that verse as the Spirit sent Him out into the wilderness.              Wait. Mark only gives us bullet points of this Temptation experience of our Lord Jesus. Let’s back up again. Mark says the important stuff is there. He says, look at the process. Baptism, heavens torn open, gentle Spirit like a dove settles, and Jesus is blessed. Then gentle Spirit becomes an irresistible force driving him out into the wilderness. Driving him. Temptation, wild animals, angels. That’s all you need to know. We heard the Lord say You are My own beloved Son at His baptism in the Jordan River, and we immediately follow Jesus into the wild chaos of the wilderness. We watch the God-man Jesus persevere through temptation, and be lifted up and helped by angelic aid. Jesus truly was out there! Actual wild beasts, miles from anywhere, and temptation abundant. And, God called Jesus beloved, all the way through.             When we are in the wilderness, either spiritually, emotionally, or in the actual physical wilderness, are we alone? When we find ourselves off track or out of step with God, are you like me, thinking what am I doing here? How did I end up in this place? Feeling lost and alone and like no one will ever come to help me, ever? When we find ourselves in difficult or incredibly sad situations, is our thinking negative, accusing of ourselves? Do we ask, What did I do wrong? How on earth did I get here? and most of all, Why me? I wonder if the hungry, thirsty, tired Jesus ever felt any of these things? We do not know. If each of us reflects, what would going out into the wilderness look like for us? Are we lonely? In the hospital? Grieving? Unemployed? Infirm? I think each of us might have di...

[cliqup]

Lost in a New City? Here's My Journey from Lonely to Lifelong Friendships!

Hey there, fellow adventurers! So, imagine this: you've just touched down in a brand-new city, ready to conquer the unknown. But then reality hits - new place, unfamiliar faces, and that overwhelming desire for friends and connections. Been there, done that! When I moved from India to Berlin, let me tell you, those early days were a wild ride without any pals to share the excitement.

But fear not, brave soul! I'm here to spill the beans on how I turned that loneliness upside down and built an epic squad of friends.

I Joined the Fun Side: First things first, I dove into my interests and found groups through CLIQup. From painting sessions to sports clubs, these hangouts introduced me to fellow enthusiasts.

Became a part of Cool Hangouts and Social Shenanigan by Checking out events on CLIQup app. Total game-changer! Met some amazing people who are now my ride-or-die pals. Seriously, if you haven't peeped into these local meetups, you're missing out on life!

Tried being an online Social Butterfly: Engaging with folks on social media or local groups virtually before meeting them? Goldmine for making connections and discovering cool events.

Friendly Vibes like A simple "hi" or a smile to strangers turned into some epic convos that blossomed into friendships.

Stayed Connected by Keeping in touch with old friends was key. They provided emotional backup and even hooked me up with their buddies in the new city.

Do Good, Feel Good: Volunteering not only helped others but also introduced me to like-minded souls who cared about similar causes.

Explored Festivals and Local Bashes showcased the city's vibe and introduced me to cool folks. Thank you, CLIQup, for the awesome event suggestions!

Patience is Everything: Hey, even Rome wasn't built in a day! I learned to chill and stay open-minded, knowing genuine connections take time.

In a nutshell, starting anew in a city might seem like climbing Everest, but these tips worked wonders for me. By diving into activities, staying open, and being proactive, I found an incredible bunch of friends who turned this new city into my home sweet home.

To all you brave souls embarking on a similar journey, chin up, flash that friendly smile, and dive into the adventure! Making friends in a new city is an art, and with a dash of patience and effort, you'll nail it in no time! Remember, you've totally got this!

[fandom-madness69]

Oh hey look it's that entire scene I was talking about earlier

CW: Not really suitable for kids but there's no sex so teens read at your own risk, mentions of blood, death, acid dripping from wounds, cussing, fighting, war, lies, propaganda, violence and general fighting the evil bad guy shit

“My mother is a Death Angel,” Morgana roared with rage as the shadowy vortex swirled around her faster. She was halfway to the high vaulted castle ceiling and the Elders were finally showing fear.

“She’s far more capable than me at sewing death and destruction everywhere she goes. And yet you hunted my kind of magic nearly into extinction all those centuries ago for what? Fear? Supposed corruption? Or were they capable of bringing the sins of you and your group of controlling freaks to light? And you couldn’t risk that because then you’d lose power and most likely be sentenced to death. Well you didn’t count on one silly little thing being capable of making me strong enough to beat you. And yes, it is unconditional love you lonely freaks,” her voice had doubled again and again with each sentence she spoke. The voices of the previous dark magic users that she had shown Char were reverberating throughout the whole castle now with Morgana’s own voice.

Char herself was also off the ground and her wings beat steadily to keep her aloft a few feet away from and below Mor in case anything happened. Char’s eyes flitted back and forth between her girlfriend and the Elders struggling to escape her light bindings. Just when it seemed like one of the was going to escape dark wispy tendrils shot out of the swirling vortex around Mor. It twisted around the Elder and finally conjoined with Char’s light binding. The way the two magics ebbed and flowed together had the attention of every Elder in the room. Every one of their faces was a mixture of stunned disbelief and rage.

“You think just because your girlfriend loves you that means you are capable of beating me?” the Harpy Elder screeched, “Of beating any one of us?” He flexed his wings and just before the darkness surrounding Mor could react the light bindings around him snapped and dissipated.

 Char immediately dropped into a nosedive towards the Harpy hoping to catch him off guard. And she did. Her Blessed Steel sword plunged through his shoulder before he could register that Char was close enough to deliver any kind of blow. A screech of rage and pain erupted from his throat as Char wrenched the sword back out. Blessed Steel making his wound sizzle and drip with acid. Blessed Steel was capable of inflicting mortal wounds on anyone with Angel blood. Even Char herself so when the ringing of the Angel Elder’s spear reached Char’s ears she ducked. The spear whizzed just over her head, making some of her hair come out by the root, and landed perfectly between the two sides of the Harpy’s ribcage. He dropped to the ground with a sickening wet thud and his glassy eyes were all Char saw before she straightened up.

“You little bitch,” the Angel Elder snarled out and dove for Char. But Char was quicker because she hadn’t been sitting uselessly on a throne for the last three centuries. Her wings beat hard and carried her up way beyond the Angel’s reach. She tried to unfurl her wings but they didn’t seem to want to obey the neurological impulses being sent to them.

“Looks like we will manage to beat you even without the power of love because you fools forgot the most important thing. Routine keeps your mind and body sharp. Sitting on your ass makes your muscles and brain atrophy,” Char said focused on the Angel Elder who was trying to wrench her wings open with her hands. It was incredibly slow going. Char was so focused in fact that she completely missed the reinforced dark and light bindings snap around the third Elder. This one seemed to be the one in the best shape. He stood up to his full height of eight feet and Char finally noticed. But not in time. Her eyes just barely caught his arm reeling forward. Aimed at Morgana.

Char willed herself to be fast enough. For her wings to beat hard enough. She wasn’t sure what the weapon was but she knew it would be deadly if it managed to hit Morgana. But she wasn’t fast enough. She watched as the long thin Blessed Steel pole sailed effortlessly through the darkness surrounding Mor.

“Morgana!” Char screamed and Mor turned to look at her. This caused the pole to pierce through her side instead of directly through her chest like it had been aimed for. Mor screamed and dropped from the air. Char dove and caught her after only a few feet of free falling. Char gently set her on the ground making sure to watch for the pole as she laid her girlfriend out.

“I’ll be okay Char, just kill those bastards already,” Morgana panted out as she pushed her Blessed Steel throwing knives into Char’s hand. Char nodded and pushed to her feet. She turned to face the two remaining Elders. The Angel and the Half-Giant. As rage boiled inside of her Char started to glow all over her body again. Only this time it wasn’t from Elder’s trying to hijack her mind. No this was entirely her own doing.

“You freaks are going to die for hurting the woman I love,” Char shrieked and threw one of the knives. The Angel was still busy trying to wrench her second wing open when Char’s statement caught her by surprise. She looked up in time to find the hilt of the throwing knife buried in her face. She fell back silently and dust kicked up from her body as she hit the ground. After the cloud settled all that remained was her clothes and the knife. Blessed Steel turned full Angels into dust.

“Oh, you think just because you took out the weakest of us that I’ll be the same,” the half-giant roared. His words physically vibrated Char’s body.

“No, I think you’re going to put up a fight but I know I’m stronger,” Char said her words dripping with venom. The giant simply raised a hand and motioned for Char to advance. She leapt and used a strong beat of her wings to propel herself forward. One had held her sword firmly outwards and the other threw knife after knife at the half giant.

Some of them he deflected effortlessly with his second fighting pole. Some of the sailed right into the flesh of his arms and thighs. He howled in pain as each one impaled his flesh. He might not be part Angel but getting stabbed still hurt. Char’s first swing of her sword was parried by his pole. She still had one throwing knife left in her other hand, she just had to find an opening.

Striker after strike was parried. The ringing sounds of metal on metal filled the air around them. It echoed back and made it sound like there were many people fighting instead of just the two of them. His pole made contact with Char’s blade again and slid down to the hilt sending out a few sparks in its wake.

“You insolent little child. You have no idea of the things you speak of,” he growled at her again. The proximity to him while speaking made Char’s skull vibrate this time. She opened her mouth to speak when a blood curdling scream filled the air. They both looked over to where Morgana had been lying to see she was standing now. Well kneeling more like. She pushed to her feet with one arm wound around her sides trying to keep too much blood from spilling out from her body. Black wispy shadows started to swirl around her again.

“We know everything. The darkness is where people confess and commit their greatest sins so that the light can never be shed on them. But you idiots forgot one critical thing,” Morgana ground out through clenched teeth as blood spilled from her sides as she pushed to her feet, “everything on this magical little world of ours is intelligent. Everything is capable of thought and retaining memories. So, when the darkness started to whisper those sins to the ones capable of manipulating the shadows through magic you deemed them dangerous. You created propaganda and rumors that dark magic users were becoming corrupt. You started a war to cover up your sins but now its too late.” Morgana’s free arm reeled back and snapped forward with her last few words.

Char barely registered what it was and ducked once again. The pole she had pulled from her body sailed over Char’s head and landed in the chest of the half giant with a sickening thwap sound. Char felt bile rise in her throat as blood spilled over her head. She swallowed it down and gripped the sword tightly in her hand. As she straightened back up she brought the sword up with her and plunged it up through the giants stomach deep into his body. More blood gushed over Char but she didn’t care. The giant gasped out as blood poured from his mouth before he too dropped dead to the floor. Char looked over at Morgana just as she collapsed back to the ground.

“Morgana,” Char screamed as she dove for her woman. She pulled Morgana into her lap and cradled her head.

“I’m okay dummy, just bleeding out. Think you could use some fire magic to cauterize my wounds so I don’t die?” Mor’s voice was hoarse now. Char felt tears spilling down her cheeks as she stroked her hands down Mor’s cheeks over and over again.

“Morgana Korunsu Pyria Ymeldur will you marry me?” Char asked. Mor’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Char baby I’m kind of dying here please help me first. Now’s not the time to propose,” Mor’s voice was a little quieter, “besides if you don’t hurry up my yes won’t mean anything because I’ll be dead.” Char laughed with nervous relief as she pushed her hand against one side of Mor’s body. The wound bled all over her fingers.

“I’m sorry in advanced,” Char said. She quickly summoned a flame hot enough to cauterize the wound, thankful for a second that her schooling hadn’t only focused on her proficient magic. But only for a second because in the next second a scream of pain ripped up from Mor’s chest and left her throat. It lasted for a few seconds before she blacked out from the pain. Tears flowed freely down Char’s cheeks as she moved to get the other side.

She knew this was literally saving Morgana’s life but she also didn’t like seeing the love of her life in pain. She cauterized the other side quickly and held Morgana’s limp sleeping body tightly to her own. She buried her face in Mor’s shoulder and wept. With relief. With fear. With joy. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there crying but it was for a while. She felt Morgana stir underneath her and pulled her face from her neck.

“Hey there beautiful,” Mor managed to whisper weakly.

“Hey there yourself. Don’t worry about talking, just rest. I’ll take us home and you can just rest,” Char said and placed a soft kiss on Mor’s forehead. Mor nodded before she drifted back to sleep. Char wiped her face on the inside of her shirt before taking in their surroundings.

[liminaldreamscape]

Night of September 7, 2023

Dream 1

I was conducting a ritual with Gwen. During the ritual, I expressed concern over what she was doing. I was worried that she was playing with powers beyond her control and that something would go wrong. In contrast, Gwen was quite relaxed and confident, and assured me that she had everything under control.

She called upon two angelic entities, one quite feminine in form and the other leaning masculine. The two entities were symbolized by a dove that was larger than the world itself. I knew this dove to be an eater of worlds and related to the ouroboros somehow.

The ritual worked. At its end, it felt like something had been severed or disconnected in a good way. I'm not sure what or from whom.

Dream 2

I was in a large hotel. Its architecture was older in aesthetic, resembling that of a castle. The hotel had dark wooden walls and dark red carpeting. The lights were lanterns hung on brackets. These lanterns were electric, but had the aesthetic of an era long gone. I was travelling through long hallways, all of which were lined with rooms on either side. Notably, the hotel was also connected to the subway through its bottoms floors.

I was with a couple people when I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. I asked them whether going to one in the subway or in the hotel proper would be cleaner. They suggested the hotel would be cleaner, as it sees less traffic. I agreed and left them, travelling by the stairs to find a bathroom.

Suddenly, I felt a need to find a particular bathroom that Sea had found earlier. I travelled through the hotel and wound up in a dimly lit restaurant. As I got here, I started to feel extremely dazed and woozy, finding it hard to walk. I think I had smoked the majority of a blunt earlier? The restaurant was quite fancy and its single-stall bathroom reflected that. The bathroom was large, similarly dimly lit, and opulent. As soon as I entered the bathroom, I slumped to the floor with my back against the door, being unable to stand anymore.

Somehow, the environment shifted to an airplane bathroom. It was cramped and the toilet was underneath the sink. Woozy, I texted Gwen, telling her that I was incredibly high. I also started to feel uncomfortable and wanted to take my clothes off outside the bathroom before using it. So, I tried to open the door and leave, but I found that the bathroom was so cramped that the door wouldn't open all the way, trapping me inside. I wondered whether I would be unable to leave here, and then I woke up.

UPDATE

Gwen noted that doves are one of Aphrodite's birds.

One of Gwen's dreams from the same night was located in a similar hotel. In that dream, she was chasing Lilith, who seemed lonely. Eventually, she let Gwen spend time with her. Notably, Lilith appeared as a pale woman with dark hair.