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#ch: rapunzel
itsamenickname · 10 months
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Is Polterpup Pascal in your Bowuigi Rapunzel AU?
Unfortunately, Luigi doesn't have a pet in my Bowuigi Rapunzel AU because when I first created the Luaisy Rapunzel AU in 2019, I didn't have a good idea on how Pascal would fit into my AU (and this also goes with Maximus too because I want my Rapunzel AU to focus more on the main characters and their different relationships (Luigi and Bowser, Luigi and Mario, Mario and Bowser, etc.)).
However, even though Polterpup won't be in the main storyline, this doesn't mean that he's completely out of the picture. An idea one of my friends and I talked about was the idea of Luigi and Bowser adopting the Koopalings & Jr. after the main events of the AU took place and I can definitely see Luigi wanting to adopt Polterpup as a pet companion for himself, Bowser and the Koopalings & Jr.
(And yes, in my Bowuigi Rapunzel AU, Jr. would be Bowser's ADOPTED son instead of his BIOLOGICAL son. As much as I love Jr., making him blood-related to Bowser would throw some major complications to my overall storyline because I would then need to figure out a few different things such as how he came to be and the impact he would have on Luigi and Bowser's relationship.)
Thank you for the ask! 😃
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embodimentofwtf · 2 years
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If someone stole all my clothes on a battlefield in the middle of an all out war i would straight up start a new villan league right fucking there.
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inaredflush · 10 months
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@shesdaylight to make up for the draft i deleted
"Oh, thank god you're here." Bridget rushed over when she saw the other princess, champagne in hand. "I've been talking to the duke for, like, twenty minutes and he just will not get the hint." She said with a sigh. "He's so painfully dull. He kept talking about cigars! What do I even do with that?!"
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founderscouncil · 2 years
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         Witches entering the city limits were a dime a dozen. New Orleans is a buzzing hub for all types of magic and supernatural creatures, and it’s what gives Freya a sense of belonging. Not fully, but enough to know that when she wakes in a panic, thinking these last few years have been nothing but a dream, she can remind herself that she is no longer trapped under Dahlia’s thumb. Vincent has the title, the person that the witches look to for guidance and order, but Freya is the unsuspecting muscle. Ruthlessness is in her blood and if she has to do something to keep her family safe, then she would do so without batting an eye.
Said ruthlessness, combined with her family’s history, means that any visitor from Mystic Falls gets a welcome wagon laced with suspicion and only barely subtle threats. When Freya hears of the newcomer, hailing from a familiar little town, she is almost expecting the Bennett witch and is admittedly surprised when she comes across blonde hair and blue eyes. There is something about her that is disarming, but for Freya, that only puts her even more on edge.
“I hear you’re visiting from Virginia,” she begins the conversation, tone flat and guarded. Arms crossed, feet planted, and mistrust coming off of her in waves. “Business or pleasure?” / @shesdaylight​
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hawkinsborne · 2 years
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@shesdaylight​ asked:  i’m done being sad. “ / eleven Meme || Not Accepting
     Golden hair looked like rays of sunshine even in the light of a building and it's fake senses. She wanted to touch it. Eleven was reminded of the wig she had once wore when she first escaped the lab. She wanted to be pretty too. Wanted to look like that girl that the others seemed to have seen in her, but she didn't see it in herself. Instead, gazing at Rapunzel, Eleven wanted to ask her so many question. How did she get hair like that? How was she so pretty? Why was she sad? What had happened to her? But talking, as Eleven had learned, opened up doors with people that she wasn't ready to share yet. Not without the others around.
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     "Why sad?" A small tilt of her head as the words leave her mouth and she's genuinely curious. She wants to know why so she can maybe try to fix it. Try to make the other smile just a little bit. Eleven had no real experience with this type of thing but she did know that smiles normally meant happiness and happiness was the opposite of being sad and that would help Rapunzel in the long run of it all. "Ice cream?" The dairy treat always made her happy, ever since she had tried it for the first time, especially on top of eggos but that was neither here nor there right now.
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devilsmenu · 10 months
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‘ we can just sit here. we don’t have to talk.’  { rapunzel for sally }
Sally nodded. "I don't even know what to say, it's not everyday that someone says that they know me".
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justagalwhowrites · 8 months
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Lavender: A TLOU Story - Complete Series Master List
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Cover Art by @gizmogurlie41786 WHO IS AMAZING
Joel couldn’t say the real reason he needed Sarah to stay home that night. You were in a fucking sundress with a ribbon in your hair. A goddamn ribbon. And you’d been cooking, the whole house smelled like heaven and you were in a fucking sundress with a goddamn ribbon in your hair and now he was going to be home alone with you all night. Not that anything was going to happen. Nothing was going to happen. Not a damn thing.
***
You're a college student in Austin, Texas, who gets a summer job nannying Sarah Miller. It's not long before her dad sees you as more than a babysitter - or more than a friend. But life - and an apocalypse - have other plans.
An age-gap grumpy/sunshine friends-to-lovers (and eventually friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers) fanfic that starts pre-outbreak. Series is now complete and spans from Spring, 2000, through Fall, 2029, in the HBO timeline.
My casting of the OCs
Lavender Ch. 1
Lavender Ch. 2
Lavender Ch. 3
Lavender Ch. 4
Lavender Ch. 5
Lavender Ch. 6
Lavender Ch. 7
Lavender Ch. 8
Lavender Ch. 9
Lavender Ch. 10
Lavender Ch. 11
Lavender Ch. 12
Lavender Ch. 13
Lavender Ch. 14
Lavender Ch. 15
Lavender Ch. 16
Lavender Ch. 17
Lavender Ch. 18
Lavender Ch. 19
Lavender Ch. 20
Lavender Ch. 21
Lavender Ch. 22
Lavender Ch. 23
Lavender Ch. 24
Lavender Ch. 25
Lavender Ch. 26
Lavender Ch. 27
Lavender Ch. 28
Lavender Ch. 29
Lavender Ch. 30
Lavender Ch. 31
Lavender Ch. 32
Lavender Ch. 33
Lavender Ch. 34
Lavender Ch. 35
Lavender Ch. 36
Lavender Ch. 37
Lavender Ch. 38
Lavender Ch. 39
Lavender Ch. 40
Lavender Ch. 41
Lavender Ch. 42
Lavender Ch. 43
Lavender Ch. 44
Lavender Ch. 45
Lavender Ch. 46
Lavender Ch. 47
Lavender Ch. 48
Lavender Ch. 49
Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild @blackroseguzzi @candypeaches16 @kittenlittle24 @wrappedinfiction @oatmeaiboy @pedritosdarling @winchestergypsy90 @imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1 @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @pedrosaidsheispunk @commanderawkward @n7cje @elliesgirlll @tsunamistorm123 @spookyxsam @leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3 @pedrobae @fifia-writes @fatima-marisa @acf2023 @1soff @encephalitiskat @ashleymsnodgrass @karlinspace
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avoxrising · 4 months
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The Feral One • Ch 16
Finnick x Y/N
Series Masterlist Link
As a thank you for 400 followers here’s a bonus short chapter for tonight! Enjoy :)
Content Warnings - None
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The doctors asked you every question imaginable about the treatment you received in the capital; what the medicine tasted like, what it smelled like, how long did it make you sleep for. You did your best to answer their questions but not being a medical professional yourself you honestly didn’t know most of the answers.
“Can we do a brain scan?” Johanna asks. “There has to be something to explain all this!”
“Miss Mason,” the doctor states. “We do not have the technology for that but based on all of our available tests we have performed and the discussion of the treatment I think she’s fine.”
Suddenly there is a knock on your door and Plutarch enters.
“I’m sorry to interrupt but Miss Y/L/N is needed in command,” he states. The doctor allows you to leave, much to Johanna’s protests, and you walk with the older man towards command.
“Don’t stress it’s just wedding planning,” he explains as you walk the long halls of District 13. “The whole district is very excited!”
You are met with the faces of Coin, Effie, Katniss’ prep team, and Katniss herself when you enter command. The prep team seems scared of you but you give them a gentle smile and take a seat next to Katniss. You can’t help but notice the way she subtly shifts away from you.
“Well my dear I am so excited for you,” Effie chimes. You give her a quick thanks and she continues to blabber on about ideas for the wedding. She talks about everything from which flowers to decorate the tables with to how the guests should be seated.
“Oh and I almost forgot!” she chimes. “Katniss has agreed to take you to twelve to pick out a dress for your wedding! She has some of Cinna’s designs there and we could make alterations so they fit!”
“Are you sure?” you ask Katniss, surprised she agreed.
“Of course,” she responds. “We can go this afternoon if you would like.”
You return that evening to your hospital room, having picked out your dress. It’s a sage green gown that flows eloquently from your shoulders like water. It’s simple, which is exactly what you wanted. The prep team brought back some of Peeta’s suits to fit Finnick with as well.
“Hey Y/N/N,” Finnick grins as he enters your room. “What did you get up to today?”
“Not much,” you shrug. “Johanna made the doctors run a bunch of tests on me cause she thinks I’m crazy, then I sat in on a two hour long wedding planning meeting, then Katniss took me to 12 to pick out a dress.”
“Sounds busy,” Finnick sighs, sitting down on your bed next to you.
“Finn?” you ask, catching his attention. “What is it that I’m not remembering? Everyone seems to know but me.”
He turns to you with worry covering his face.
“I don’t want you to remember,” he states. “It was something very bad that happened to you. It’s for the best that you don’t remember.”
“If it happened to me then I should know!” you exclaim, frustrated that nobody would tell you.
You would get your answers, you would just have to find them elsewhere.
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Repeat end quote bc I didn’t have one I liked for this chapter lolz
Taglist:
@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @vsnrly @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom
*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you
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sixosix · 9 days
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yuuurrrr wasszup ‼️‼️‼️❗️
so i decided to add some numbers in the case tumblr mess it up agai
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kinda rushed BUT (huwheueh childe freckles,,,)
i fuckjfn love the new ch everything is just so entertaining. ur literally peak😭😭😭
the way lyney is so obv down in the trenches for mc HIM MOVING HER HAIR AWAY FROM HR FACE HELLO????? SO GENTLE😭😭
the way his instincts unconsciously took over when childe reached out to her😭😭(breaks down)
YESSS YESS RAPUNZEL AETHER KS ACTUALLY CANON IM MIHOYO like bro is a disney princess confirmedd
im so exited for more childe interaction like i jus imagine mc n childe having a older bro lil sis dynamic in a way😔 both are very family oriented too like😔😔
but anyways, hope u like this lil thing. exams are coming up again so i did this real quick😔😔
have a nice day and drink lots of water🩷🩷
HEEEELLLPPP OMMGGGRGDUEHHD I LITERALKY SCREAMED WHEN I SAW CHILDE (its 4am) OHMMYGOD HE LOOK SO DELICIOUS IN YOUR STYLE… (freckles hhnbgghh) his fuckigngn manspreadbwhshhdw and as always… MC LOOKS SO FUCKING GOOD oh shes beautiful. shes the moment. AETHER IN THE SIDE HOLDING THE TRAY SO AWKWARDLY WHYHREH
*both feels bad for lyney* IMJHEHEHSODHEJFH IM CRYDINNG (AETHRRS OUTFIT?!!??) (his SCARS) uurggghgh u didnt have to slay so hard you didnt have to eat but you did…
THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS ugh just a quick rant yk i was having such a bad day yesterday and i thought it would last until today. i think u know this but they would randomly pick who would be chosen for taking NAT and i got picked unwillingly 😭😭 i was sooo mad that it was the start of a term break and i was taking a 12 hour exam. i was supposed to announce that there would be another chapter this sunday, too! but thats a bit blurry now because my times been taken up studying 😢
but waking up at 4am suddenly became SO worth it. this gen made me start rolling around my bed like OHMYGOD!!!AKAGI ART!!! the numbering made me laugh out loud
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blindmagdalena · 11 months
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Say It (Ch3)
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18+ 6.3k homelander x f!reader. comeplay, lite blood, mirror sex, penetrative sex, fingering, lite dacryphilia, praise kink, instances of sublander, overstim, dirty talk, angst. read ch 1 + 2 here, or on AO3. There is an undeniable primal violence to love. It can bring out the very best in us as easily as it can bring out the very worst. In the wake of Homelander's constant, oppressive brand of love, you have uncovered aspects of yourself that would have been better left buried.
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You’re not sure how to describe the relationship you have with Homelander. In the beginning, you felt like an object to him. Something to squeeze and use when he needed relief. Ever since that incident in the not-so-empty hall, however, the dynamic between you has been markedly different. You practically live with him now, spending most of your days sequestered in his penthouse like Rapunzel in her tower.
Now, you’re closer to his… partner? Girlfriend? None of the words feel right for what happens between the two of you. He showers you with gifts, with love and attention. Anything you ask, he provides. In turn, he confesses things to you that would turn America upside down. He has burdened you so heavily with his sins that you feel the weight of them upon your shoulders as if they’re yours. Sometimes, when he tells you what his hands have done, you can feel the blood warm and wet on your own hands.
Tonight, you’re at his side at a private Vought evening affair. Your first public appearance. He introduces you to people as his date, but doesn’t elaborate any further, deflecting effortlessly when people ask for details. It makes you two the talk of the evening. Homelander is America’s most eligible bachelor, and you’re no one at all by comparison. So, naturally, the second Homelander leaves you alone to get some air on the large patio balcony, you’re approached.
“Hey, this seat taken?” The man asks, smiling down at you. He has his hand perched on the back of both the bar stool next to you as well as the back of your chair, his arm close enough that you can smell the spice of his cologne. It sets off alarm bells in your mind, but you know that the people here are important people. You haven’t met this man. For all you know, he’s significant to Vought in some way. You’re not just here as yourself; you’re here as Homelander’s date. What you say and do will reflect on him. You must take too long to respond, because the man clicks his tongue. “If it is–” “No, it isn’t,” you say, glancing towards the balcony doors. They’re closed. No sign of him. The evening is chilly, and only the two of you seem foolish enough to lounge outside. You look back at the man. “Go ahead,” you say, turning back to the counter overlooking the city, where you have both hands cupped around the drink you finished a few minutes ago. There’s a beat of dense silence before the man offers, “Can I treat you to a refill?” You blink, looking over at him. “It’s an open bar.”
That causes him to bark out a laugh. “Okay, touché. Can I go order you another, then?” “Is there something about me that screams ‘help, I’ve finished my drink and I’m too stupid to order another’?” You ask, frowning. Is he trying to flirt with you? He must have seen you with Homelander. The man has been showing you off on his arm for the majority of the night. He’s either oblivious, or an idiot. Regardless, you know how this could end. He needs to leave you alone. Unperturbed, the man laughs again, more surprised this time. He gives a soft whistle, pulling you from your thoughts. “Damn, you’re sharp. Most women would have just taken the drink by now,” he says, obviously trying to be playful. He throws in a wink for good measure. “C’mon, lemme order you a drink.”
It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes, remembering that you’re trying to be civil while you dissuade him from a potentially gruesome death. “They were probably afraid of saying no to you. Do you always badger women into accepting drinks from you?” The man turns in his seat, his knees nearly brushing the side of your thigh. He leans forward slightly. “Are you always this mean, or am I special?” He asks. The only thing sharper than his expensive looking suit is the line of his predatory smile. There was a time when a man like this would intimidate you, but you know something he doesn’t. There’s a much bigger shark in the water. You wonder if that shark is watching. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what could make you special in a room full of superheroes?” You ask, rapidly losing the thin veneer of politeness you intended to uphold. The man watches you in a way that’s all too familiar to you. You’re not a person to him, he hasn’t even asked your name. You’re just a conquest to be won, an opposing force to be subjugated. Looks like you’ve hit a nerve. You can see it in the way his smile frays at the edges. Men like him are so predictable.
“Is that why you’re here with mister America himself?” Ah. There it is. “Does it make you feel real special? Real above the rest of us mere mortals?” The man asks with a slow building derision dripping from each word. He never loses that smile, but it’s beginning to look more like the gesture you know it is: he’s bearing his teeth at you. It’s funny how easy it is to reduce men to this now that you’ve seen what the worst of it can look like. This man doesn’t scare you. He can’t touch you. You are above him. You lean in. “Which answer will ensure you stop talking to me?” “You can leave any time,” he says, as if you’re the one who invaded his space in the first place. “Unless you’re looking for something.” You startle when he puts his hand on your knee, sliding up to your thigh. “That boy scout not fuck you right?” The motherfucker looks so pleased with himself. How long has he been waiting to say that? You feel your skin itch, your blood turning hot beneath it. His hand feels a scalding, noxious thing on your leg, even through the fabric of your dress. You feel sick, paralyzed with the magnitude of your own anger welling up in the back of your throat like bile. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, the drums of war to come.
Like something wild, with fangs and claws, you very nearly pounce him. The only thing that stops you is a sudden weight on the back of your neck, a Titanous grip that keeps you firmly in place. Homelander’s shadow falls over you both, and by the time the man realizes it, he snatches his hand away from your leg too little too late. You have no idea how long Homelander's been watching. “Hey, babe,” he greets you, his tone falsely jovial. You’re not sure if he’s jumping to conclusions, or if he heard the exchange. He’s wearing a broad, manic kind of smile, his hand sliding from your neck to your shoulder, the weight of it a strange comfort. You reach up instinctively to cover it with your own, sinking in against his side.
Better the devil you know.
“Hey, I know you,” Homelander continues, pointing to the man sitting next to you, his eyes narrowing in recognition. “You’re Jeff, aren’t you? Yeahh, yeah, Jeffery Brimham. You’re the new CFO over at Superplastic, huh?” Jeff, whose skin has broken into a fine sheen of sweat in the time that Homelander has been speaking, stands up with a smile that is no longer predatory, but placating. Although he is taller than Homelander, his body language makes him seem so… small. The immediate change in his mannerisms grates on you like nails clawing down a chalkboard. His spine is so rigid, you’re overwhelmed by the visceral urge to snap it.
”Yes, yes I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jeff says. He has the nerve to shoot you a glance, begging you with his eyes. Please, his expression screams, his smile tense and polite while your teeth gnash behind your lips. I was only messing around. He gestures to you. “I was just getting acquainted with your lovely date here.” “You don’t say!” Homelander goes on, that smile only growing more disconcerting. Without missing a beat, he asks, “What’s her name?” Jeff’s smile falters. “Ah, I… I hadn’t had the chance to–” “Weeell, I just think if you’re acquainting yourself, you oughta ask someone’s name first, right, Jeffery?” He prompts, grin never lessening, though you think Jeff is beginning to see it for what it is. A threat. “But hey, maybe that’s just my inner boy scout talking.”
The color drains from Jeff’s face in an impressive sweep. It satisfies something in your churning gut. Instead of the dread you normally feel when Homelander begins menacing someone in your presence, you feel the white hot stab of conviction lance through you. He’s a fucking liar, and he expected to get away with it. It’s not surprising: how many women has he pulled this little power trip on? A dozen? A hundred? What would he have done to your drink if you had let him get you one? Homelander would never let that happen, but no one else has Homelander.
Only you do. Only you have his protection… and his violence.
It’s satisfying to watch Jeff be so thoroughly emasculated by Homelander’s mere presence, but ultimately, you know it’s a hollow victory. You may walk away from this encounter vindicated, but what happens to the woman after you? Jeff doesn’t seem the kind of man to have his ego gutted, and come out of it a better, more humble man. No, he’ll find someone like you, but even more vulnerable. He’ll order them a drink, he’ll frighten them, and he’ll hurt them the way you know he was imagining hurting you.
All because he wanted to take Homelander’s squeeze down a peg. Prove himself a social equal.
This man is dangerous. He doesn’t deserve an ounce of what he has.
Standing from your chair, you lean in towards Homelander, and whisper at a volume you know only he will hear, “I want you to kill him.”
The shift in Homelander’s posture is immediate, drawn tight as a bow. He looks sharply at you, both brows lifted, but it is not a look of surprise. It’s one of intrigue. He’s calling your bluff with nothing more than a stare, waiting for what he thinks to be an inevitable surge of doubt and regret in the wake of your statement.
You stare back, meeting him with nothing but clean, numb resolution. After a beat, his expression shifts from intrigue to that familiar good natured showmanship, putting his attention back on Jeff. 
“Here’s the thing, Jeffery,” Homelander says suddenly, cutting off the nonsensical mixture of excuse and apology Jeff had been sputtering. He claps a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. “Cockroaches. The city’s full of ‘em, you know? And I, well, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t have time in the day to squash every little roach I see.  But my girl?” He gestures to you without taking his eyes off the man. “She hates ‘em. Caaan’t fuckin stand them scuttling around. So you know what I do when my girl sees a cockroach, Jeffery?” Jeff, sweating profusely, offers a strained guess: “You squash them?” “Yeah,” Homelander says, voice warm and low in his throat. “I squash them. Goodbye, Jeffery,” he says. Before Jeff can so much as suck in a breath, Homelander closes his hand over the man’s mouth, snaps his neck, and tosses him over the edge of the balcony. By the time the body hits the ground, a broken neck will be the least of the mortician's concerns.
You throw your hands up over your mouth, stifling your gasp. Though it all happened in an instant, you witnessed every microsecond of it. The fear in his eyes, Homelander’s gloves sinking into the skin of his face, and the resounding crack of his bones. His death was instantaneous, and you saw it in his eyes.
You caused it.
Nausea sweeps through you in a wave. You gag behind your palm, turning away from the balcony.
“Sshhhhh,” Homelander hushes, catching you in his arms. “Heyy, it’s alright. Deep breaths. Hahah, look at you,” he purrs, nestling you against his chest. He rubs your back in slow, soothing sweeps. “Wow! Did not see that one coming. You must have–”
You kiss him. It’s clumsy, your teeth knock against his, but you just need him to stop talking. Your heart is racing a thousand miles a minute, and half of you wants to throw up while the other half of you is enraptured in warped exhilaration.
For the first time in your relationship, Homelander’s power truly feels like yours.
“Take me home,” you say against his lips, giving his collar an urgent tug. Your heart hammers painfully in your chest. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Homelander lifts you into his arms with surprisingly swift obedience, and stranger than that, without comment. Instead, he’s watching you with an intensity you can’t put a name to. He’s fixated on you, and even as he lifts up into the air with you, you cannot bring yourself to look away from him, either.
He flies you up, up, up, well beyond the horror of what was just committed. The wind roars in your ears and prickles your eyes, but you know it’s not the reason they water. Tears stream down your cheeks, an awful sickly feeling settling in your gut. When Homelander lands on his balcony, you catch your reflection in his glass doors.
Murderer, you think. Your tears run black with mascara, staining your face, as if to mock your grief.
What right do you have to grief?
Homelander steps inside, the glass door falling shut behind him. The wave of heat from the penthouse gives you goosebumps, a sharp contrast to the frigid night air. He sets you down, but doesn’t let you get far. He pulls you in with two gloved hands on either side of your face, pulling you in for an oddly chaste kiss. “God, that was–that was fucking incredible,” he exhales, followed by a giddy little laugh. He swipes at your tears with his thumbs. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, babe. Not for that fucking bottomfeeder. He was garbage, alright? I heard the bullshit he was feeding you, and I heard you throw it right back in his face,” he purrs, kissing you again, each press of his lips a little firmer, a little hungrier.
“He didn’t deserve to die,” you reply dully, hands pressed to his chest. You’re worried you’ll collapse without the support.
Homelander scoffs at that. “Please. Of course he did. These guys are all the same: sick little slime puppies stuffed into suits, oozing noxious snail trails everywhere they go. Trust me, that guy had it coming,” he says, kissing your forehead, your cheek. His lips brush the shell of your ear when he says, “His pocket was full of roofies.”
His words hit your system like a shock of ice.
“What?” You had a gut feeling about it, but to hear it confirmed… “He did?”
“Ohh yeah. Definitely not his first rodeo,” he says, drawing back to look at you. He’s smiling broadly, and as you take in his expression, you finally pinpoint that look in his eyes: it’s pride. Since the beginning, you have always assumed Homelander has a fascination with horrifying you, that he enjoys getting a rise out of you. You don’t expect comfort when you cry. You expect him to fuck you.
Instead, he’s openly admiring you. Brushing away your tears with gentle, persistent swipes of his gloved fingers. He kisses your forehead again. When he pulls back, you can’t help but ask him, “Why are you so happy about this?”
His brows pinch briefly, and his lips part on a slightly baffled little smile, like you’re asking him something you should already know the answer to. “Because, you silly goose,” he begins, kissing you again. “It turns out that you’re just… like… me,” he says, punctuating each word with a kiss. “And it means you’re never, ever gonna leave me.”
With that, he draws you into a tight embrace, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You can feel his contented smile against your skin. Your mind is alight with a static-like buzz so intense, you swear it’s vibrating your teeth.
He’s right. With one simple sentence, you’ve finally given yourself over to his mania. The phantom blood you have felt on your hands is now a real thing. Wielding Homelander like a weapon, you killed a man, and somehow… you’ve never been more relieved. The knot in your chest slowly begins to unravel itself, and for the first time in months, you take a breath that actually fills your lungs.
There is a weight gone from your shoulders that you hadn’t even realized you’d been carrying. As if you have been holding a bow drawn tight for months on end, you have released it, and your muscles can finally relax.
You don’t have to hold onto it anymore. That heavy, aching thing inside your chest that tangled around your heart and made each beat of it painful. You have feared succumbing for so long, and yet now that you have, you can relinquish the white knuckle grip you’d had on your own morality. The bubble has popped, and the blood is real.
The blood is real.
Homelander pulls back to look at you, still stroking you, soothing you as he might a frightened beast. Your breathing is sharp and irregular, and he doesn’t have to tell you that your heart is racing. It thunders in your ears. He cups your face in his hands, and you tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His own eyes are half-lidded, his lips parted. He’s watching you, palpable anticipation in his gaze, though for what you cannot say. Part of you wonders if, now that you’ve surprised him, he’s just waiting to see what you’ll do next.
You brace your hands on his chest. “Take off your clothes.” Your voice is quiet but firm.
His pupils dilate. With a twitch at the corner of his mouth, he takes his hands from your face, and slips off both of his gloves, dropping them to the ground. Your throat feels dry. You swallow, watching him peel open the flap of his suit top, revealing the fitted undershirt beneath. He shrugs out of it, and the padded bulk of it falls to the ground with a thump. One by one, he toes out of his boots, maintaining eye contact with you all the while.
His pants are next, heralded by the familiar metallic snap of his belt coming undone, followed by the hiss of his zipper. He pushes his pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, his cock bouncing free, already full and heavy. You take a step back, causing him to tilt his head curiously. You continue backwards, towards the bed, beckoning him with a finger. With that same fixated obedience, he follows you, taking his undershirt off on the way.
You’ve always thought him beautiful in the same way a forming hurricane or an encroaching thunderstorm is. You feel compelled to watch, to witness the creation of something incredible, even knowing full well it could destroy you. Perhaps the only thing more intoxicating is the notion of leashing such a disaster, and feeling it hum at your fingertips.
The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, and you sit slowly. Your whole body is thrumming, your heartbeat pulsing between your thighs. You want him, and you have all the proof in the world that he wants you. Terrifyingly so. You think he might devour you, tear you apart to your barest threads, if not for the fact he would lose you in the process. 
Homelander stops barely a foot away from you. In his eyes, you see that same prickling anticipation. Your gaze drifts down over the scape of his chest, where swirls of thick dark hair betray his natural coloring. He’s broad, but nowhere near as bulky as the suit would lead folks to believe. He’s lean, his musculature cut as cleanly as polished marble. His hips curve into the perfect V, which guides the eye directly to the heavy swell of his cock.
You’ve never taken this much time to simply look at him. Every so often, you see the muscles in his stomach flex. His hands curl in and out of fists. He’s either growing impatient, or insecure. There was a time you never would have thought a man like the Homelander could be insecure, but you know better now. You know the way his eyes turn glassy when he fucks you, and how desperate he is to hear you say that you want him. That you love him.
Glancing up at him, you see that his breaths have deepened. He licks his lips when you look at him. His brows furrow slightly with his unspoken uncertainty. He cannot read your expression. When you look beyond him, to the mirror above your heads, you’re not certain you recognize yourself at all anymore. Tears have streaked mascara down your cheeks in sharp black lines, and darkened the circles beneath your eyes. There is a sharpness to you now that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before. It’s like looking into the eyes of a strange animal wearing your face.
“Get down on your knees,” you tell him. His nostrils flare. You see the bob of his throat as he swallows, and then slowly, he sinks down onto his knees in front of you. Less than ten minutes ago, you watched him snap a man’s neck with the flick of his wrist because you told him to. Now, he continues to move how and when you tell him to.
Have you always had this power over him, or is this new? You wonder if, like so much else in your life, you were just too afraid to even realize it, let alone seize it.
You slide forward, perched on the edge of the bed, and lift your dress slowly up over your thighs. Homelander watches, transfixed by your every movement. His breath catches watching you slip your hand into your underwear, the way your knuckles press out against the thin cotton as you curl them, teasing yourself with the tips of your fingers. You massage a slow circle through your own slick, watching the tension build in his body.
With a breathy little noise, you push your fingers inside. Homelander’s eyes flicker up briefly to meet yours, swallowed by the black of his pupils, feral and hungry. His attention quickly drops back to your hand. He tilts his head very slightly, subconsciously angling to listen to the symphony of your fingers rocking in and out of your wet pussy. His nostrils flare on a slow inhale. His eyelids flutter briefly, as if the smell of you is intoxicating him.
“What does it smell like?” You ask, emboldened by his subservience.
“Heaven,” comes his answer, the word a rasp that falls readily from his tongue. He sounds parched.
“Do you want to taste it?” You press a third finger in, rocking your hips against your hand.
“Yes,” he answers just as quickly, just as needy.
Pulling your hand out, you push off your underwear. It falls to the ground, and you bring your fingers to his lips. He looks at you just before opening his mouth, tongue curling slightly, an invitation. You press all three into his mouth, barely getting the first knuckles past his lips before he’s closing down on them, sucking them deeper into his mouth with an obscene noise. He works his tongue between them, greedily licking every bit of wetness from your fingers.
Simultaneously, you slip down off of the bed, and into his lap, straddling him on your knees. His hands move instantly to your thighs, pushing your dress back up when it threatens to cover them again. His hands are impossibly warm, fingertips sinking into the beginning swell of your ass.
Reaching between your bodies, you curl your fingers around his shaft, and hold him steady. He lets out an answering moan around your fingers, blinking his eyes open. He’s flushed, eyes glazed over with the depth of his arousal. Holding his gaze, you lower yourself until the head of his cock presses to your cunt with a wet noise. You feel his teeth graze your fingers precariously, another moan muffled by them rocking in and out of his mouth. He pants fervently through his nose, brows tightly pinched.
You sink down just enough to feel the head of his cock begin to breach you before you lift back up, and then drop back to precisely the same level. You do this again and again, tormenting him with the soaking wet kiss of your pussy, each press louder than the last. He gives a pitchy noise wrung from the back of his throat, dull fingernails biting crescent dents into your soft skin. 
And then, all at once, you drop your weight down and envelop him fully, gasping at the shocking, abrupt fullness of him inside you. Homelander makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl, and a sudden sharp pain has you yanking your fingers out of his mouth, leaving a trail of blood dripping from his lips. “Ah, f-fuck, fuck, m’sorry,” he rasps, licking his lips of the crimson spill. “Sorry.”
You stare at the blood dripping down your fingers. Numbly, you wipe them on your dress. Homelander, through the haze of pleasure and desire, looks distantly confused by your response–or rather lack thereof–but he does not protest when you kiss him, licking the taste of your own blood and slick from his mouth.
Heedless of the blood you smear, you cup the sides of his face and begin to grind against him, adjusting to the aching fullness. He’s so wholly at your mercy that you can’t be bothered by the too-full hurt of your cunt or the sting of your bitten fingers. You focus instead on the way he huffs, expression knotted up like you’re the one who has wounded him.
“Fuck me,” you tell him breathlessly. Instantly, he snaps his hips up, shocking a fractured moan from you. He takes hold of your thighs and yanks you up, lifting off of his knees into the air. Your stomach flips with the feeling of weightlessness that hits before he lands back on his feet, hitching your legs around his waist. He sinks even deeper into you in this position. Homelander’s breaths are ragged, his strength barely contained while he bounces you on his cock. He doesn’t so much as break a sweat. You weigh nothing to him: the entirety of his exertion comes from trying not to break you.
“B-bed,” you tell him, unable to help but stutter with the way his cock is pounding into your cervix. He listens regardless, though he barely even stops fucking you to lay you on the bed. Beyond him, you lock eyes with yourself in the mirror above the bed. You watch yourself push your hands into his hair, staining his golden locks with your blood. You watch the muscles in his back ripple with every thrust. He’s holding you with fervency, one hand locked on your thigh while the other cradles the back of your neck.
The way he fucks you is animalistic, deep thrusts with little rhythm to them. You give his hair a sharp yank, and he lifts to meet your gaze, his own eyes bleary, clouded with lust.
“You love me?” You ask, your grip in his hair tight. You cannot hurt him, but you never wanted to. You’ve realized something much more important. You can control him.
“Yes,” he hisses through his teeth, voice thin. His thrusts grow more erratic, the thrum of his body like an engine against yours, practically vibrating with the tension of restraint trembling in his inhuman muscles. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Say it,” you moan, arching your back.
“I love you,” he whines, the threads of control he has over himself snapping one by one. “Hhh, ah, I love you, I fffucking love you,” he chokes out, fucking you with a force you know will leave you bruised. You don’t care. You need it. You deserve it.
“I love you, too,” you keen, screwing your eyes tightly shut.
With that, Homelander loses it completely, slamming in one, two, three more times before he stills, burying himself as deeply as he can into you, holding you against him in a vice grip while he spills load after load of come into you. The sheer heat of it never fails to shock you, the flood of it so hot that it scorches.
Panting against your neck, Homelander gives a handful more gentle thrusts, shuddering through the aftermath of his release. He kisses your skin, nosing his way to your ear, your jaw, peppering kisses all the way to your lips. You kiss him back, albeit weakly, before the shock of his fingers pressing on your clit wrings a gasp out of you.
“You didn’t finish,” he murmurs, rubbing slow circles, firm enough to make your breath tremble. Your cunt quivers around his spent cock, and you both moan. He knows you so thoroughly, knows precisely how to move his fingers to take you apart piece by piece. You feel overly sensitive, already tender from the force of his thrusts, and despite how good it is, you whimper. The noise is just the beginning of the sob building in your throat, tears prickling hotly at your eyes.
Homelander pulls back at the sound of it, his brows furrowing. “Hey, hey, sshhhh,” he soothes, bringing his hand up to touch your face instead. His acknowledgement does nothing but bring your mind fully to the surge of emotion, and you begin to cry in earnest. “Sshhh. Don’t cry,” he whispers, kissing your cheeks, brushing away the salty streaks of your tears with his lips.
“I killed him,” you sob, taking in a ragged breath. “Oh my god, I killed him. I killed a person,” you keen, trying to twist away from the warmth of Homelander’s lips, the mint of his breath, but he holds you firmly in place.
“He would’a done worse to you,” Homelander reasons. You know he means this as a comfort. “You, and a whole lotta girls like you,” he says, continuing to kiss away your tears. He licks his lips. “You didn’t kill a person. You put down a sick dog.” You can feel his smile when he presses his lips to your jaw, your cheek, your forehead, like he simply can’t help himself. His pleasure is palpable. “You saved people.”
He kisses your mouth, and you don’t fight him. You close your eyes against the flow of your tears, and slip both hands into his hair, grabbing a tight hold of it. You kiss him hard, craving the same relentlessness he had fucked you with, but his lips remain infuriatingly soft against yours. You buck your hips just to feel the dull ache of your bruising, but he stops you short with a hand on your hip, pins you to the bed.
“Stop punishing yourself,” he says against your lips, tenderly kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll give you what you deserve.”
Your breath catches at the slip of his fingers back at your clit, coaxing a reluctant, trembling moan from you. He trails kisses down your neck, down to the neckline of your dress. As he descends, his cock gently falls from inside you. You feel the absence like an ice cold wound, a painful loss that drips from you. He doesn’t leave you longing, however. Pushing your dress up over your waist, he nestles himself between your legs, and slips his fingers into your leaking pussy, pushing them in with a wet squelch.
In the mirror above, you focus intently on the back of his head between your thighs. You’re not ready to look back into the eyes of your alien reflection. Instead, you let yourself focus on the slide of his fingers, and the sparks he ignites inside you when he crooks them just so. You exhale a shaky, pleased sigh.
“That’s it,” he coos, stroking your thigh with his other hand. “Let it go, pretty girl. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, you’re not even gonna remember who you are.” You wonder if he realizes the gravity of the appeal in what he’s saying, or if it’s simply his bravado speaking. Is this arrogance, or does he recognize the look of someone who hates what they see in the mirror well enough to know exactly what to say?
All logical thought falls away at the first hot, breathy swipe of his tongue. Your hips jerk, but yet again, he keeps you pinned. His fingers rock leisurely in and out of the creamy wet mess he’s made of your cunt, scissoring slowly on every outward pull. He swirls his tongue in figure-eights on your clit before eventually sucking it between his lips. You make a noise halfway between a moan and a sob, throat tight. 
You focus on the noise his fingers make fucking in and out of you, on the subtle way he hums while he devours not only you, but the dripping mess of his own come. His tongue occasionally dips down when his fingers pull back, and you can feel him licking at your cunt, lapping up his and your juices from between his fingers, insatiable for your combined taste.
“Ffffffuck,” he sighs, nuzzling at your clit, slurping and even gently nipping at you. “Taste like an angel. Like heaven.”
The devil was an angel once, you suppose. Was this corruption just as inevitable?
Homelander pushes three fingers in deep, and you reward him with a full, throaty moan.
“Good girl,” he purrs, pumping his fingers slowly and deliberately. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t’cha, sweetheart? When you do, I want you to scream my name, alright? Scream it like it’s the only one you know,” he says, his voice frayed at the edges. He sounds far too riled up for a man who only just came inside you.
He only stops speaking to drag his tongue over your clit, or suck on it. He murmurs an endless litany of praise and filth into the space between your thighs, holding you steady as you tremble. There’s a pressure building within you so intense, the muscles in your stomach contract uncontrollably. It’s too much, the slow drag of his fingers sweet as sugar against the tender, convulsing walls of your cunt. You slip your hands into his hair, and though you can feel yourself babbling, you’re completely unaware of what you’re saying. You might be begging, or for all you know, reciting the pledge of allegiance. You don’t know, you don’t care. You’re wholly consumed by the warm, wet slide of his tongue, the rumble of his words against your skin, and the sinuous pull of his fingers.
Climax hits you like an earthquake, an immeasurable force that rips up through the very core of you, and when it does, you do as you were told, and you scream Homelander’s name.
The waves of pleasure that follow are indescribable. You’re battered relentlessly by pulse after pulse of tingling sensation, goosebumps prickling over every inch of your body. Your body jumps in time with each throb, and the only thing that keeps you from curling in on yourself is Homelander’s hand pressed to your stomach, holding you down while he continues to lick leisurely at your throbbing clit.
You’re crying again, fat tears rolling down from your eyes into your hairline. It isn’t grief, at least not exclusively. You feel like you’ve been untethered from reality, and every single sensation is simply spilling out of you in every way possible. Your breaths are quivering, gasped beasts all their own. “Stop,” you manage to plead, voice hoarse. “Please, Homel-lander, please–” Homelander hushes you gently, lifting from between your legs. His eyes are dark, his mouth shiny with your slick. He strokes soothing lines up and down your inner thigh while, with his other hand, he furiously jerks his cock. “S’alright, sweetheart. Look at me. That’s it, so fuckin’ pretty. Nngh, fuck. There’s my sweet girl. So… fucking… good… for me…” With one last grunt, he comes again, painting your used up pussy with the mess of it, earning a tired little jolt out of you before you settle back down.
Sucking in a deep breath, he blows it out slowly, sinking down onto the bed next to you, slipping his arm underneath you. You feel like a ragdoll as he pulls your body against his, loose-limbed and exhausted beyond measure. His chest is warm against your cheek, the circle of his arms more of a comfort than ever before. You sniffle, eyes bleary and tired, and curl both of your arms around his middle, embracing him as tightly as your feeble strength allows.
You aren’t sure there are words enough to describe the leaden weight of your bones. Your entire body is tingling like you’ve been electrified, buzzing with static from head to toe. Your mind, however, is blissfully empty. You easily lose yourself to the cadence of Homelander’s breaths, and the gentle way he strokes your hair.
“I love you,” you whisper. It’s a far cry from the power play of earlier. Now, you seek only validation. Assurance.
Homelander hums a warm chuckle, toying with your hair. “And I love you. I always knew, you know.” “Knew what?” You ask, blinking slow and heavy, your grasp on consciousness already leaving you. “I always knew you were perfect for me.”
What happened tonight, what you did, will have to be confronted eventually, but it won’t be tonight. Instead, you close your eyes, and as you have a dozen times before, you simply nod in response, and let Homelander soothe you into a deep, deep sleep.
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ngmn2002 · 4 months
Text
Ch 108: Random Thoughts
First things first...
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Now, I didn't expect this thing will go this way. Expected Akane to join No.1's side on the court thing, but for Teru to also join the rest? No.1 are up to something, Huh? They are taking their moment to shine, which is not unexpected it's their arc after all.
Look at how the table have turned... even though at the end Akane was back to 'he is going to kill me' mode. It was funny. Getting to 'see' how the stamp really affects those who get it on them with Teru is cool. Turns out this stamp really is effective and dangerous. Though, I couldn't help but wonder... in Tsukasa and Nene's case, they got the stamp on them, while Hanako and Teru got it on their clothes, if we thought about it in some way... is there a chance they will be free if they just (had the chance to) take off their top? ........ Anyway, back to Tsukasa and Nene's case... first time for me to see Tsukasa 'limited' this way, he is always so capable but there... he was so done, not even bothering to do a thing. It felt actually cute. Uh... I have to also comment on how he got tied? let's say in a different way from the rest a look too... he didn't only have a handcuff around his hands like the rest but also...
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Ehhh... we need to have him this way thanks to someone I assume... anyway....
Speaking of 'someone'... is it really that easy for him to escape or is something else at play here? Are we to assume Teru really didn't pay attention to him and got distracted or...? since Hanako really didn't do much in Teru's favor after he ran off... I wonder if it all was just a matter of Hanko taking the chance of Teru not paying attention to him to run away after all.
Little Nene waking up inside the cage... Never a dull moment with Nene-chan monologuing. This time little her.
Still... this thing... it's everywhere...
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Why? For 2 of the purest souls to end up that way... even baby Nene didn't survive?!
Free Nene! Free Tsukasa! No more of them living this way... or am I just asking too much Mr. someone? Just kidding. JUST KEEP THEM HAPPY, ALRIGHT?!
Ehhh... this theme... if you look at it even metaphorically... everyone is a prisoner by some sort of thing... all are trapped in someway... we don't really need the cage, chains or anything of that sort... they can take the form of rules... duties... rumors... boundaries... family traditions... society... world...
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Princess Rapunzel Nene-chan! pumpkin Cinderella magical attack! fly us to the moon! His comment! too funny!
I love how she went all excitedly "Tsukasa-kun! You're awake!" and rushed to his side... feels so good to see a nice mood between them...
Done Tsukasa-kun... he is adorable. The mouse got the cat... by using some low methods... life can be so unfair at times... it's funny how he is just... 'I won't bother anymore.' Where is all mighty Tsukasa? He is so lovely when he just losses interest in something. He just goes: power off. It's as if things just go by the press of a button it's so funny. Yeah... he is adorable! If we wanted to make the mood a bit gloomy, we can say he was also deeply mentally done, not also physically or just done by the situation. recalling a similar thing from the past where he struggled to break free for so long without getting anything out of it and just lost motivation to go any longer. A really hopeless and miserable Tsukasa... it hurts too much to imagine...
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Ehhh... she is adorable. Trying to free herself together with Tsu, being the little hamster she is.... so sweet!!
I love casual Tsukasa. -I can't break it. -I see. Best dad ever, who offers help and words of wisdom to his little child as much as he can and cheers for her to give it her all with a smile on his face meant for her, even when in a bad state himself.
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Their word- exchange during the whole thing was done in a really cute way. why bring a thing called 'key' to the table though?
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One day we will see said 'twin power' shining, Nene-chan. We only need to keep patient.
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The thing that broke me. I'm not ok. This thing had me crying too much. I still can't get over it or what might it really hold. It's too much.
So, was Tsukasa this way in the boundary? before in their past? both? Did he reach a point where he pleaded for Amane to come see him? For like... 10 years or 20 or never mind, they just saw each other on the roof the other day.
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Tried with all his might but all his efforts where in vain until he lost hope Amane will respond to him or come see him?
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I wonder if Sumire's words got to him. That is, if he knew Tsukasa was calling for him all the time. No.6 seemed oblivious of Sumire's want to meet him once more.
Then... tried once more motivated by the want to go see Amane himself? You're not coming to see me? I will go see you instead.
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He tried to get his way by himself to make it happen,
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then the help of hers.
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Then finally... went to see him. Even though he was still too weak...
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Now, remembering every time Nene called for Hanako to come save her and how he showed almost in all of them,
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Tsukasa saw that one But with Tsukasa that wasn't the case for a long time... it hurts... he even was under the impression Amane will come save Nene but not me when they fell down...
But, knowing Nene gets the feeling and what he was talking about...
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Imagining Tsukasa looking like her in there hurts so bad She can understand him too well, they can support each other.
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It really felt too good Tsukasa opens up to Nene so much, trusts her and has faith in her. For him to talk about his sincere feelings with her over and over again... way too openly... ahhhh... it's too much....
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This gentle face and smile that are meant for her and to see him cheering for her even when he is in such a state...
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This boy... I love him. So very much. He is one of the kindest, most selfless, contented, purest souls ever..... I don't even know where to start or where to end with trying to describe his beauty and charm/trying to understand him and his feelings... please all I want is for him to be happy...
Not this way...
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Please... please Tsukasa... I'm begging you... ask for more... think of yourself more... desire even the little amount of things... you can have the world if you ask for it... just ask... don't go things are this way... STRUGGLE as you say... it's killing...
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.......... Sumire... Tsukasa... why... No. 6.. Hanako... WHY?! WHY?! We're waiting for the other to do something. One take the first step please!
That whole scene broke me. I'm not alright. Not at all.
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Look at him. Look at him. Forgetting all about his own safety and being just to save her. Now, isn't that the guy who selflessly sacrificed himself for his brother? He is just... I can't....
Having Nene asking him once more to call for Amane, yet he kept going with his belief... remembering every single time Tsukasa went calling Amane's name when they meet hits differently now. His excitement to see Amane and how he reacts... ehhh....
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..............
While falling down, I wonder if he kept sticking to his belief... or if he actually called for Amane in his mind... and then Amane showed up, saying 'what?'. He saved them BOTH. Tsukasa's shocked face was... oh... I hope what happened made him happy... He had Tsukasa's arms around his neck! He put the 2 of them to safety! Hanako in between this chapter and the previous ones feels like night and day XD And then...
...
He freed Nene alone. Gave Tsukasa his usual rude Amane look and a cold shoulder. Talked like... ugh... he pleases you with actions... gets you pissed off with words and expressions...
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You'd better work on this really fast sir. Get a grip, will you? It's about time you do so.
Uhh, don't get me started on your twin... Mr. poker face. Mr. :D How about he lets us into his mind for a moment?
Let's take a really deep breath... starting over...
So, Mr. :D went to Mr. talk to people around you, and was surprised the later saved him too. Oh, Tsukasa... Ugh, Amane.
On the funny side...
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So well - deserved. Use his GREAT CURSE against him as much as you can. Thanks Mr. :D, cutie princess. Now I really want to see Tsukasa going that way. I love you, Amane or even better onii-chan. I need to see Amane getting a heart attack and passing out for my own sake.
Pffft... he is not mad. For real? Not even for a little bit? You kept the boy tied up. Your face had the 'angry' mark on it once he reminded you of what happened. Uh... did you like seeing him that way by any chance? Asleep, locked in the boundary for years, and now this... with the thing around his ankle even... I really had a little idea of... Mr. fan of imprisoning his loved ones... if he saw Tsu and Nene still locked in the cage... he would actually take the whole cage with them inside and keep them that way forever. At least it would come to his mind. I won't believe it won't.
To have Nene saying I hate you Tsukasa-kun... ok... fine... she has a point. wonder for how long that will go...
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Cool.
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The moment you realize how both twins are so talented with handling children. Some twins' hell this girl got herself into. Best of luck to her with them. Anyway, always feels nice to see the 3 of them getting along well together. A really nice party.
Have to say, I love how Amane trusts Tsukasa with Nene to the point of him throwing her to him, knowing he will catch her, keep her safe on his behalf. They get along really well and are in sync. Awesome to see. The dash Tsukasa made and that slide move he went with... Nene is not a ball you 2, you know? Still, a proof of when you trust Tsukasa with something, you'll never be disappointed. Can I see more of the twins this way?
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What a group I never expected to see, ever.
So that's how Tsukasa and Teru's first meeting will be? It's too funny.
Uh, if only I didn't make that joke to myself a few hours before the chapter was out... I went... No.1 really miss these scales of justice... and here we are... what will they put on the empty side? The group's misdeeds? XD
I feel sorry nat and sakura are not invited to the party. Don't they need to join the 4? They misbehaved with No.1 too. That's already unfair for a court that will put all guilty to their place and bring 'justice'.
Nene is free... can't she help them? The answer will be no most likely, but I wonder if we will need her free small hands at some point.
So, this chapter ends with 3 powerful men being so powerless a little girl can do better than them. Life... L-I-F-E.
We close on this note. Till next chapter.
*****
Ok, that was the messy chapter review... It's all over the place, yes. Not in the usual style I write my other chapter reviews, yes.
That one Tsukasa scene had me becoming a total mess, I still can't get around it or grasp it fully. It makes my head & heart hurt so bad. When will I be able to think better... I wonder. For now, this is the best I can do with this whole chapter.
Thanks for reading.
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quackquackcey · 3 months
Text
Derek’s Kumquat 🍊
Ch 3 is up!!
feat. cake bites, rapunzel derek, & a vibrator 🌝
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Rated E, updates Mon & Fri
🍊friends to friends with benefits to lovers sterek
🍊smut, smut, & humor
Snippet: (🔞)
A string of curses later, Stiles found himself plopped on the bed while Derek stripped his own pants off and clicked open a bottle of lube over his huge cock, thick and hard and flushed.
He didn't know what it said about him that his mouth watered.
With a lick of his lips and an anticipating moan, he rolled over onto his knees, face down and ass up, and Derek let out a string of curses again.
Two fingers inside, stretching his hole, then three. “You really did finger yourself last night,” muttered Derek under his breath. “Been using that dildo of yours?”
“No,” gasped Stiles. “I don't like it.”
“Mm, then it's a good thing that”—Derek slid in, slow and easy, lips against the edge of Stiles' ear—“I can satisfy you whenever you want.”
Read on AO3 here!
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karikarasuno · 3 months
Text
sonder ch. v
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Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader x Levi Ackerman
Rating: Mature
Warnings/Tags: Holidays, Alcohol Consumption, Flirting, Banter
Word Count: 8.3k
song(s) for the chapter: wishlist by jojo, orbit by nao, better than snow by norah jones & laufey
a/n: this chapter was especially fun to write since i do rather enjoy the holiday season. pls enjoy the chaos of it all.
chapter iv | chapter v | chapter vi
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Ghosts, witch hats, and little black cat cutouts littered nearly every corner of the office. There were pumpkins, real and decorative, in the break room, the cubicles, and even on your desk. Which you had not placed there and could only blame really one person for. 
“And exactly what are you supposed to be?” Moblit asked, dressed in all white with a halo attached to a headband on his head. He looked comical dressed as an angel because even though Moblit may have looked innocent, he was anything but.
“Ghostface,” you shrugged, pushing aside some papers and leaning forward on your elbows against the edge of your desk. You were dressed in your regular work attire, if not slightly more casual than work typically permitted. It was an extremely chilly day in the city, the wind sharp enough to bite at your cheeks and nose. You made sure to layer up before you left the house this morning, and funnily enough, the day already started to warm by the time lunch rolled around.
“Where’s the mask?” He teased as he gestured to his face and then pointed at yours. 
“It’s before the big reveal,” you laughed, standing when you heard some excited commotion come from outside your office. “So do me a favor and don’t expose my secret identity.” 
When you walked into the break room, where you found everyone in their fun little costumes, the tables were covered in sweet Halloween treats and finger foods. Moblit was in charge of the event planning committee, accompanied by the overly excited Historia, who was standing at one of the tables with her hair braided and little flowers clipped all over. 
“Rapunzel, is that you?” You asked teasingly as you walked up to her table and grabbed a mini cupcake with a cartoon ghost sticking up from the orange icing. She clapped her hands once in excitement and spun in response. Her purple dress stopped just above her knees, and the lilac complimented her skin tone in a delicate way. She looked adorable in her get up. 
“The one and only,” she grinned. Her eyes took in your simple outfit of high-waisted brown slacks and your black, long-sleeve mock neck. Accompanied by some black leather boots. You could tell the question was on the tip of her tongue, but before she could ask it, Jean and Marco strolled in in matching costumes. You smiled extra hard when you spotted their outfits, and immediately recognized the orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirts. You giggled to yourself because this had Jean written all over it, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. 
Once you made eye contact with Marco, his grin turned rather mischievous as he approached you holding out a spear and shield in your direction.
“What is this for…?” You grabbed the props suspiciously as he continued to smile at you.
“I had a strong feeling you wouldn’t dress up, so I took matters into my own hands.” The realization dawned on you when he motioned to his own shirt. 
“Athena,” you said, nodding as you looked between him and the props in your hands. “While I appreciate the thought, I’m too young to be your godly parent. By a millenia.”
He laughed rather loudly, chin tilting to his chest as he shook his head. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m no child of Athena.”
Photos were taken and the food provided was gone by the time you called it a day and headed home. The wind was especially chilly when you stepped outside and towards the train. Even though the time wasn’t due to change for another few days, the sun sat low in the sky, practically hidden by the tall, city buildings. Routine continued to follow you as you placed your headphones snug over your ears. They acted almost as ear muffs against the sharp breeze and you were grateful to find them charged.
The worst part of your routine was the new addition. The part where you addictively listened to Onyankopon’s song. You couldn’t really explain to yourself why you did it. It wasn’t anything remotely close to healthy. In fact, it was almost this obsessive need to torture yourself. That maybe feeling the guilt that already resided deeply against your sternum would grow so abundantly that it would just explode and kill you. Saving you in the end. 
But that never seemed to happen. And you continued living life splitting yourself into two versions. This version, the one that allowed herself to feel the emotions that seemed to always be thrumming just beneath her skin. The one that anguished over lost love and was riddled with self-doubt and insecurity. This was the version you hated. Therefore you hid her behind carefully constructed smiles and well-timed jokes. Creating the other part of you. The one you longed to remain because she was charming and witty. People seemed to like her, so in times where you weren’t alone, crowded in a room of colleagues or even friends, she was who you became. You clung to her in fear, almost. Desperate to show everyone that you were okay.
That you were fine. Happy, even.
The street leading to your home was flooded with trick or treaters. Parents accompanied their small children while groups of teenagers laughed and chatted loudly on the sidewalk. As you neared the entrance to your home, you noticed Levi and Erwin were home too. A bowl of candy sat on their steps and their gate was propped open. You were tempted to stop by. Simply because you were starting to miss the consistency of your old routine. But it was harder to keep up appearances with them. Difficult to let them in completely, even though they were the ones to seemingly revive you from the fog of depression that loomed over your head for weeks before. And mostly because it felt awkward. Pretending to be someone else when they so clearly could see right through it, but were too polite to call you out on it. They often entertained your brush offs and changes in topic. All the while you could tell that their curiosity was starting to eat at them. Especially Levi. Who wasn’t the type to dance around topics or force pleasantries for fear of ruining a mood. 
So you decided to just spend the evening alone. A far easier choice to be alone rather than confront what was going on inside your head outside of it. And in front of an audience. Instead deciding to keep the lights off, aside from the small yellow light above the stove, and playing Onyankopon’s song on the record player until you fell asleep on the couch like you always did.
Another new and unbreakable habit.
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“I just don’t understand why you won’t say yes. Who wants to spend Thanksgiving alone? Are you even gonna cook something for yourself?” Erwin whined from the doorway of your home. You told the guys a few days prior that you were heading back home for the holiday, but a sudden and surprising snow storm ended up canceling your flight. The airline offered you their next flight out, but at that point you wouldn’t land until late Thursday evening, effectively missing Thanksgiving. Which was the whole point of going back to your hometown.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. Honestly I’ll probably just order Chinese or something. I promise it won’t be as sad as it sounds,” you argued, rifling through your junk drawer for the menu to the Chinese place a few blocks away. 
“That is so un-American of you,” Erwin pouted. “Just come to my dad’s place with me and Levi. Please.”
“I will ignore your first comment because we are not opening up that can of worms tonight.” You tossed him a playful glare, remembering the drunken night at Hange’s bar where you all loudly and incoherently discussed the history behind the origins of Thanksgiving. He rolled his eyes in response.  
“Anyway, I don’t want to intrude. I’m sure your dad didn’t cook enough for an extra person.”
“Clearly you don’t know my father,” he chuckled. “He probably cooked enough for 10 extra people.”
You found the menu before you could formulate a response, waving it excitedly in front of you before opening it to read the options. But as you contemplated which dish you’d want more, the menu was snatched from your hands and when you met Erwin’s gaze there was startling defiance behind them. 
“You’re not eating Chinese food on Thanksgiving when there is an old man in his home cooking his little heart out.”
“Don’t try to guilt trip me,” you answered, astonished at the immature tactic he decided to use.
“I refuse to leave until you say yes.” He opened the drawer positioned in front of your hips and slid the menu back inside of it. All while maintaining determined eye contact with you. Your resolve was crumbling. You felt it as layer after layer of it fell to your feet in a dusty heap. 
“Erwin,” you pleaded, crossing your arms over your chest in one final attempt to get your point across. Even though you already knew that you were leaving this house with him, albeit with halfhearted reluctance. 
From the doorway you heard Levi enter. And a part of you thought that he would back you up. Oftentimes, reeling in Erwin’s rather persistent nature. But as soon as that hope flickered around in your chest, Levi said, “we let Halloween slide because I quite frankly don’t care much for it. But I’m drawing the line here. Go get dressed.” 
Your mouth popped open, shock evident on your face as Levi sent you a stern glare. No room for arguments. Noted. “You’re not spending another holiday alone. I don’t care.”
You sent a look of surprise to Erwin, again expecting some sort of alliance, but he simply smirked. Knowing that they did indeed win this argument. So you walked your ass to the bedroom to change out of your loungewear and into something much more appropriate for a family dinner. 
“I can’t believe you two would gang up on me like that,” you said as you slipped into the back seat of Erwin’s car, your coat secured tightly around your body to protect you from the harsh cold. Levi chuckled from the passenger seat. The car was already nice and warm since they waited for you inside of it. The heat blasting from the fans. 
“I wouldn’t call what we did ganging up on you.” Erwin began to drive, the streets surprisingly sparse given what day it was. “You were persuaded into coming along with the prospect of good food and even better company.”
“We’ll have to see about that,” you argued, sticking your nose into the collar of your coat to try and defrost it. While the drive to Erwin’s father’s home was comfortable, the conversation flowing with seemingly no effort, you still held the unmistakable pit of anxiety in your chest. It was unwavering, steady, and atrociously annoying. There was no reason for it. Other than to make you as supremely uncomfortable as possible. 
The consistent feeling of it was morphing into a dreaded resentment. Mostly for yourself. And the predicament you only brought upon yourself. It was repetitive. Every day was the same since it was always accompanied with the same negative feelings. You couldn’t help but hate each day. The active effort of trying to enjoy the simple things, the little things, was increasingly harder to do. And your current state of depression was beginning to worry even you. Since the amount of work you were previously throwing yourself into was diminishing rather quickly, you have had no other choice but to sit and feel and reflect. And upon reflecting, you only realized that you felt like shit and no amount of work would ever fix that.
The worst part was knowing that you had friends. Friends willing to force you from your home late on Thanksgiving day and forced you to actually spend time with them. Friends who cared. Friends who wanted you around. Even when you felt like the worst person to be around. Especially when you were alone.
But that didn’t stop Erwin or Levi from ensuring that you didn’t spend this day lonely. Ensuring that when you walked into Mr. Smith’s home you were greeted with the smell of roasted vegetables, well seasoned turkey, and warm spiked apple cider that you were questionable of until you had your first sip. The Christmas tree was already up as well, and you were about to make some well-intentioned joke about it still being November until you noticed that there was a second one in the dining room. Granted this one was fake, unlike the very real (and fragrant) fir that was decorated rather elaborately in the living room. 
“So,” Mr. Smith walked up beside you as you admired the twinkling lights and sparkly ornaments. “I heard you’re a pretty good cook.”
“I dabble,” you shrugged with a light laugh. “It’s been a minute since I spent some time in the kitchen, but I wouldn’t say I’m a chef or anything.”
“Either way, I’m excited to hear your thoughts about dinner,” he said as he nudged you gently with his elbow. And when you looked into his eyes, while you saw kindness and comfort in his gaze, there was a familiar glint of knowing sadness. A pain that you recognized rather fiercely. It struck you deeply that someone you barely knew and have only interacted with once before could resonate with the gnawing feeling in your chest with just a simple look. You were intrigued, wanting to question what was wrong. But then you remembered that Erwin lost his mother when he was younger. And what you saw reflected in Mr. Smith’s eyes was the knowingness of loss. 
In some capacity, you knew what that aching emptiness felt like. That transitionary period between loving someone and not being able to have them anymore. Whether it was a choice to be made or a tragic ending. Loss was like a tradition. One that anyone, human or not, partook in simply by living and breathing. 
Another reminder that we had hearts to be broken and then mended with time. 
“Also,” he added, “I’m happy you could make it. Erwin said it was a bit of a debate getting you over here.” He chuckled when you sighed and shook your head in disbelief.
“Remind me to never tell him a secret, since he doesn’t seem to have any filter.” 
“He gets that from his mom, y’know. Looks almost nothing like her, but everyday he reminds me of her more and more.”
You both glanced over at Erwin at that moment. Him with a longing fondness and you with aching curiosity. He was attempting to goad Levi into trying one of the cookies that sat atop the island in the kitchen and failing miserably since you all knew how much Levi despised anything sweet before meals. 
“Come on, it’s good,” Erwin said, offering him the half again and chuckling when Levi’s scowl deepened. 
“I don’t doubt that, but we’re about to eat dinner and you're going to ruin your appetite,” Levi responded before turning away with a shake of his head.
“For someone younger than me, you sure act like an old man. So damn crotchety,” he continued teasing Levi.
“Give it here,” you held out your hand as you made your way to the kitchen. Erwin deposited the cookie onto your palm with a grin, eyes sliding towards Levi to catch his reaction when you ate the half in a single bite. 
“I don’t understand either of you sometimes,” Levi grumbled. The timer for the turkey went off then, Erwin’s dad running over to the oven to take it out. The four of you began bringing over all the sides to the dining table that was already set up with dinnerware and utensils. It was a cute little set up he had. A seat on each side of the table with all the food presented in the middle. There was a deep burgundy cloth covering the table and the white plates had gold decorating the rim. Levi held out your chair and motioned for you to have a seat before taking his place next to you. Erwin and his father bickered for a moment about who should carve the turkey until Erwin took the knife and fork with a resigned sigh. Mr. Smith sat down with a pleased grin, winking your way when you caught his eye. 
Dinner was pleasant. Your wine glass was never empty. Which would've been a bad thing seeing as you only really ever drank nowadays to wallow in your sadness, but with the constant chatter and laughter it was hard to feel anything other than satisfaction and ridiculously full. Full from the incredible meal, full from the very obvious love surrounding the table, and full of ever-fleeting happiness. You didn’t really want your night to end, but as the hours crept closer to midnight you felt the lull of sleep beckoning you. You were all seated in the living room, fire crackling in the firepit, lights dull besides the twinkling lights on the tree. It was the coziest you’ve felt in a long time. 
In the background, Mr. Smith’s phone rang. The chatter died for a moment as he excused himself to answer it. Levi and Erwin exchanged a weird look. Levi’s of barely there curiosity while Erwin looked downright confused. But you didn’t question it, and when you glanced over at Mr. Smith you noticed a small smile on his face as he spoke with whoever was on the other line in the kitchen. You couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t seem of any significance. Not until he returned to his place on the recliner in the living room, the same little smile tugging on his lips. 
“Who was that?” Erwin asked.
“No one. Just a coworker,” he responded dismissively.
“Seems a little late for ‘just a coworker’ to call you on a holiday.” Erwin said, an intonation of irritation in his voice. 
“It’s nothing, son. Really,” he said, a tone of finality present in his voice as he looked at Erwin with a firm yet understanding stare. The air around the room shifted into something awkward and you weren’t sure how to shift it back. Luckily, you didn’t have to. Levi swept in to recover the previous content with a story of how he and Erwin recently attended one of his mom’s yoga classes. Erwin’s simmering mood turned to one of offense when Levi lightheartedly recounted how Erwin was endearingly bad at it. 
And you hadn’t realized you fell asleep until Erwin was rousing you awake from your place on his shoulder. Not exactly sure when that happened either and you were almost embarrassed by it. Until you were met with a bright smile, lips tinted from the red wine and eyes soft and tender as they looked down at you. It was one of those rare moments when you couldn’t help but acknowledge how stunning Erwin was. Hair just slightly tousled, lashes long and sweeping – perfectly framing his dazzling blue eyes. You swallowed, mouth dry as you tore your eyes from his face and cleared your throat. Trying very hard to ignore your obvious attraction to him, blaming most of it on the wine and your creeping loneliness. 
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he said with amusement on his tongue. 
“Sorry,” you apologized, voice unexpectedly hoarse. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“No need to apologize.” He squeezed your knee, large hand warm and fitting there. And another subtle wave of shame washed over you for thinking of him as anything other than a friend in that moment. “It’s time to get going, anyway.”
You nodded in response, uncurling your legs from where they were on the sofa and placing your socked feet on the fluffy rug before you. Erwin stood up before you did, walking to the kitchen to grab the bowls of food Mr. Smith most likely packed for you all to take as you slept. Your mind was distracted. Mostly confused as you tried to remember the moment you succumbed to your slumber. The kind that came with no dreams or nightmares, just a blank space of peaceful rest. The kind you haven’t had since that night Onyankopon left. The kind that always seemed to evade you. Until now. 
“Here.” Levi held out your coat, blocking your vision with the black fabric until you looked up to look at his face. Expression hard as it always was, but this time laced with something fonder. His features weren’t deeply set, his brow unfurrowed and eyes half-lidded from sleepiness. His cheeks were a signature rosy color. The shade you’ve come to correlate with tipsy Levi. It suited him– the slight blush dusted across his face. 
You rose to your feet before you grabbed your coat, only to come nearly nose to nose with him. Yet you were surprised when he didn’t take a step away from you. The space between your bodies was so little, it would hardly take a few inches of leaning into each other to kiss him. And the thought was so appealing to you. So startling in its wake that you stepped backward, only to tip over back onto the cushions of the sofa. 
Levi chuckled deeply in his chest, the sound rolling over your shoulders and down your spine. And you knew the way your cheeks warmed had nothing to do with the glasses of wine dancing in your bloodstream. But despite the sudden onslaught of confusing desire thrumming beneath your skin, you took Levi’s hand when he offered it to you. Even allowed him to slip your coat on for you, buttoned it up until it stopped just beneath your collarbones, and tied the loose ends securely around your waist. It shouldn’t have felt like anything other than platonic. But your body was saying a very different thing than your mind was. 
“Thank you,” you breathed, voice distant from your own ears, but there was a note of yearning there not even you could ignore. When Levi looked at you, fingers still holding the ties of your coat, you noticed how long his hair has gotten. His bangs nearly touched his lashes as his eyes glanced over your face. He simply nodded though before he finally took that step away from you. Air rushed in to fill the gap that wasn’t previously there and you were even more ashamed at how much you missed the close proximity. Your heart hammered away in your chest, reminding you that you weren’t frozen in place and when Erwin gently called your name, the heavy fog began to lift and you made your way to the door. 
The goodbyes were quick. The ride home even quicker. But the awkward realization sat with you the entire way. The realization that due to your tangled emotions, you were somehow blurring the lines between friends. Even though it was just you feeling so conflicted, you wanted to pull away again. A part of you wanted to do what you always did and lock yourself away until time forced you to forget or get over it. But knowing them, they wouldn’t allow it. Just as they didn’t allow you to spend the holiday eating Chinese takeout and binging whatever reality show you managed to find. 
You would just have to sort it out. Push away any longing you felt and just replace it with platonic affection. Surely, once the wine simmered its way out of your system it would take away any attraction you’ve encountered tonight with it. Because you couldn’t lose them too. Not to something as trivial as rebounding desire that ricocheted from a past love and desperately searched for a new one.
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The Christmas music was nonstop. It played at work, in stores, and even on the train one awfully dreary morning. You didn’t even know the train system had that option. So with all of that, you also weren’t surprised to hear a chaotic rendition of Jingle Bell Rock blast through the door of Hange’s bar. It was significantly warmer in their establishment and absolutely decorated to hell and back. This was either a person’s wet dream or elaborately niche nightmare. 
There was an abundance of loud conversation happening over the song. Moblit was yelling something to Mike a few feet away from the bar top. All while Mike shrugged in response as he continued to polish glasses. You were sure he was only pretending to hear whatever Moblit was screaming and you chuckled into the scarf that was pulled over your nose to protect you from the fierce winds. 
The three of you–you, Erwin, and Levi– began to shed off your outer layers at the door, the bottom of your boots leaving wet spots on the mat from the snow. It was starting to become quite evident that the three of you were nearly inseparable. You became a noted trio in your friend group. 
When you met Nanaba for the first time a few weeks ago, she even jokingly referred to you as “Levi and Erwin’s third! It’s so nice to finally meet you.” It sort of rubbed you the wrong way initially, but you relaxed when you noticed everyone brush it off as meaningless banter. Because if you were being completely honest with yourself, that was a bit of a sore subject for you. The idea of being with Levi and Erwin, instead of just being with them all the time. You blamed it on some weird clingy rebound you must’ve been experiencing since your broken off engagement. The part of you that latched onto anything seemingly stable since you were so far from that. Especially since you didn’t have any idea how you managed to form such strong feelings for two people. Let alone your closest friends. You were positive you were just confusing potent platonic affection with regular romantic feelings. Whatever that meant. 
“Don’t move!” Hange yelled from their place near the stage. You three immediately stopped in your tracks, your body flinching slightly since their voice carried much further after the abrupt ending of the song. You looked frantically behind you and then towards Levi, confused and more than a little concerned. On the opposite side of Levi, Erwin glanced nonchalantly at them as he readjusted the gift he bought for Secret Santa in his arms. 
“What?” Levi said sternly, obvious irritation in his tone from not wanting to admit how their exclamation startled him. Instead of answering, Hange pointed to a spot directly above Levi’s head. You all tilted your heads slowly in the direction of their finger, and you were the first to react. A sudden and single laugh spilled from your lips. Cherry red and green spun down at you. A mistletoe hung delicately above your heads, still swaying from the wind that gusted through the open door when you entered it. 
Levi sighed out a deep and annoyed breath, which made you huff out another light laugh. Over Levi’s head you made eye contact with a grinning Erwin, whose eyes twinkled with mischief and plotting. He glanced down at Levi with a jut of his chin and then pointed at his own cheek. You were confused at first until he exaggeratedly puckered his lips and pointed from his cheek to Levi. It clicked then, and you were hesitant, but when Ewin flashed another excited smile you conceded. It seemed like it only got harder to say no to him the more time you spent in his presence. 
As Levi bickered with Hange in an entertainingly escalated debate, you and Erwin leaned over at the same time and placed a quick kiss to his cheeks. Which, comically, blossomed into a glorious shade of red. Deeper than any wine could ever do to him. Erwin retracted with a gross smacking sound and you just knew that the disgust now present on Levi’s face was due to the wet smooch left behind. 
“You can stop arguing now, Grinch,” Erwin chuckled as he finally stepped out from beneath the mistletoe. 
“That was wholly unnecessary,” he responded while wiping the spit from his cheek with the back of his hand. Which was when you noticed the glossy red lipstick mark you left on the other one. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when he looked your way.
“What?” He asked, exasperated.
“You have some…” You pointed to your cheek and suppressed a smile. “Some lipgloss on your other cheek.”
He sighed, but to your surprise he made no move to remove it. He simply walked into the bar with another shake of his head and a defeated shrug. You stood planted at the door for a second, just taking in the chaos. The bar was closed for this intimate little event. The usually lit low hanging lights were off, instead replaced with a vast array of string lights that were strewn over every place the ladder would allow Hange or Moblit to reach. At the top of the Christmas tree was an empty bottle of bacardi that appeared to be haphazardly covered in red and gold glitter. It was a very interesting choice for a tree topper, but you expected nothing less from the otherwise eccentric owner. 
“Yo, you gonna keep standing there or are you gonna come try this?” Moblit called out at you holding up a drink with what seemed to be vibrantly red contents inside the glass. 
“What exactly am I trying?” You wandered over, skeptical and not trusting his dismissive nature as he handed you the glass. 
“A surprise,” he smiled, pouring another one into a similar looking glass.
“I’m not a fan of surprises,” you stated, sniffing the surprisingly fruity smelling drink. 
“It’s a good surprise, I swear.”
“You said that last time and I ended up drinking a cocktail with Fireball in it. Which was disgusting, mind you,” you said, just before taking a tentative sip of your drink. And he was right. This time it was good. You couldn’t really pinpoint what the ingredients were other than that it was slightly tart, but with a lovely hint of holiday spices incorporated.
“You like it,” he grinned, taking a sip of his own. 
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“Didn’t have to. You’ve become very easy to read since I work with you everyday.” He chuckled when he said that. As if it was some simple thing to declare but there was a spike of fear in your chest. Because exactly how easy has it become to read you? “It’s called Christmas punch. We found the recipe a few years ago at this other bar we visited and it’s become kind of a staple seasonal drink for us ever since.”
You took another sip, noting the fun tease of ginger this time and smiled against the rim. “It is pretty good.”
“I fucking told you so.”
You propped your gift bag on the end of the bartop with all the other Secret Santa gifts, watching as everyone fell seamlessly into their own conversations and it was a comforting sight. Moblit and Mike behind the bar, while Hange and Levi tinkered with the karaoke machine settings to get the mic properly hooked up. Nanaba was racking the cue balls on the pool table while Erwin sipped on the same red drink you had in your hand as he gestured wildly with the pool stick. 
You ended up watching them play a round, Erwin winning by a landslide. Many of Nanaba’s solid colored balls were still on the table, while the 8 ball was nowhere to be seen. Erwin’s celebration was loud, Nanaba rolling her eyes at him as he raised his arms above his head and cheered for himself. You laughed, third glass of punch in your hand and you were teetering across the line of tipsy and into drunkenness. 
“You’re next.” Erwin pointed the pool stick at you as you pointed a questioning finger to yourself.
“Absolutely not. I don’t have enough coordination for this,” you defended, waving your drink at the game and laughing again.
“Perfect! It’ll be another easy victory.” He directed that at Nanaba, who flipped him off as she walked over to you and handed you her stick. 
“I’m getting another drink,” she said. “Good luck with him.”
“Not sure how I feel about being the one to stroke his ego, but thanks.” You placed your now empty glass on a table nearby. 
“You wanna break it or should I?” He asked, referring to the balls that were already set up in a triangle while adding the blue chalk to the top of his stick. Before handing it to you so you could do the same. 
“Go ahead, big shot, since you’re so good at this.”
His grin was huge and confident. And you had to admit smugness looked good on him. Even if it did serve to annoy you. The balls scattered when he hit them, two striped balls falling into separate pockets. 
“Guess your solids,” he said, hitting the white ball again, this time accidentally sending it into a pocket.
“And I guess your luck might be running out.” You teased, walking over to the pocket the white ball was in and positioning it by the ball of your choice. 
“Doubt it, but let’s see what you got, sweetheart,” he said snidely, but he was still clearly amused. 
And whatever luck and skill Erwin had seemed to transfer to you. Before either of you could even register it, you won the game. The 8 ball bounced off of his last striped ball and slid into one of the corner pockets. You were shocked at your win, but Nanaba and Hange cheered enthusiastically beside you. Nanaba very maturely telling Erwin to “suck on that, loser!”
Mike clapped Erwin on the shoulder as he chuckled at his expense. All while Erwin stood with his lips parted and obvious confusion on his face. “I call bullshit,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You hustled me.”
“Beginner’s luck?” You offered instead, grinning from the adrenaline rush of winning. And the fact that Levi came over and slung his arm around your shoulder and laughed into your ear. “Thanks for humbling him. He needed it.”
When you made eye contact with him, you both began to laugh. Your cheeks were warm, the sweater you were wearing became stifling, but it didn’t matter. You were happy. Forreal this time. 
“You have chalk on your cheek,” Levi said, fingers finding your chin and angling your face away from him. “How’d you manage that?”
His words were slightly slurred and you could smell the alcohol on his tongue. You were sure your breath probably smelled the same, but it was different feeling his fan delicately across your cheek as he used his thumb to rub off whatever smear was left there. When it didn’t wipe away cleanly, he reached out to the glass that sat precariously on the edge of the pool table and collected some of that condensation on the tip of his thumb. 
“Not sure,” you breathed. “I was too busy kicking your man’s ass.”
He smirked, using his damp finger to effectively clean off the residue of the chalky substance. It was a thoughtful, if not compulsive gesture. Levi had a thing about cleanliness. A thing about things being orderly and appealing. So it was better for you not to read too deeply into the moment. Because it was a small moment between friends, no matter which way you cut it. 
“And you looked good doing it,” he said as he let go of your face and wiped his fingers on a nearby napkin. Your brain stopped. You heard the gentle teasing in his voice, but it still surprised you. Because it felt like flirting. But Levi wasn’t the flirting type. You’d expect and actually have gotten used to these types of comments from Erwin. But that was who he was. Pushed your boundaries. Invaded your personal space. Made silly, complimentary comments. Flirted, but it was meaningless. Mostly.
“I-” 
“Time for Secret Santa! Gather your shit and get your drunk asses over here,” Hange yelled. The gifts had been moved from the bar to a round table where enough chairs for everyone had been arranged in a circle. You grabbed the one you brought, the gift inside for Hange and your palms were beginning to sweat with nerves. 
“You’re up first, new girl,” Moblit pointed your way as soon as everyone got settled. You knew you gave him a panicked sort of look because he chuckled, squeezed your shoulder, and then gestured for you to go on. 
“Are we doing the whole I give you three clues and you guess or should I just hand it over?” You lifted your gift bag in emphasis, silently hoping they chose the latter. Because honestly you were a bit too drunk and a touch too nervous to come up with anything funny or interesting. 
“Just give it,” Levi answered and waved his hand dismissively, and you could tell Moblit wanted to argue but when he felt your shoulders noticeably untense his lips closed around a smile. Hange was distracted, endlessly making sure everyone had a drink or a snack or was comfortable. They were a great, if not chaotic host. So you almost felt bad interrupting the small conversation they were having with Nanaba. 
“Hange,” you said, standing in front of them with the strings of the gift bag dangling from your fingertips. Their face lit up. Eyes wide and smile splitting their face enthusiastically. 
“For me?!” They squealed and you couldn’t help but smile back at their reaction.
“For you,” you urged the bag into their hands, and took a step back as they ripped the tissue paper from the bag and threw it over their shoulder. But unlike their rough treatment of the paper, when they pulled out the folded bundle of yarn, they held it with delicate and curious fingers. You felt the need to explain in that moment, in an attempt to jump ahead of the confusion in case they had no idea what it was. “It’s a balaclava. Handmade from this little online shop. You wear it over your head and it’ll keep your ears warm because I remember when you were complaining about wearing ear muffs so I just thought that maybe you would…”
“I love it!” They immediately shoved their head through the hole on the bottom, their hair a mess peeking out of the front with how forcefully they put the accessory on. You reached forward, swiping their bangs out of their eyes and adjusting it so it sat better around their face. They smiled up at you, colorful, crocheted balaclava fit snugly over their head. 
“You look cute, actually,” you laughed, stepping away as they toyed with the drawstrings hanging under their chin. 
“I’m never taking it off.”
“Ok, weirdo,” you laughed again with a shake of your head as you took your seat again.
The game somehow worked out perfectly with you going first. Everyone received their gift from their Secret Santa until you were the only one without one. And it just so happened that the final person standing with a gift still to give was Erwin. There was a heat in your chest that rose when you realized the present he was clutching so ridiculously the entire way to the bar was actually for you. Which then explained his odd reaction when you pretended to lift a piece of the wrapping paper that wasn’t secured properly. You had never seen him move so quickly since you’d known him.
He grabbed the box-shaped gift off the table, spinning it his hands as he dramatically scanned the group as if none of you knew who it was for. 
“Just give it to me.” You held out your hands in anticipation, your cheeks warming under the attention, but ready to get the moment over with and not over think it. 
“How are you so sure it’s yours?” Erwin teased, taking careful steps towards you and your outstretched arms. 
“Erwin,” you said, wiggling your fingers as he placed the surprisingly light box onto your palms. You peeled the paper back attentively, even though it was just plain brown paper with little snowflakes on it, you still felt bad tearing it apart. And you weren’t too sure what you were expecting. Knowing Erwin it could very well be a gag gift or a play on some inside joke you had with each other. That was what you were anticipating. A laugh and then a change in subject since the game was over.
But what you weren’t expecting was a vinyl record. You knew of the artist, but never really listened to her work. And so when you flipped the record around after slipping it out of the cardboard box, the silence was louder than what would’ve been comfortable for most people. 
“Norah Jones,” he said, shifting in place before continuing. “That was my mom’s favorite musician. And I know how much you like to collect those things, so I kinda thought that maybe you would like that album.”
You were drunk. That was how you justified the tears that pricked at your lash line. And the burning in your throat. And the slight pout of your lips when it hit you how sentimental and thoughtful his gift was. 
“Erwin, I-”
“Put that bottom lip away. Don’t be weird about it.” He rolled his eyes. His playful energy attempted to resurface but you could tell how important it was for him that you liked this gift. Because it meant something to him. Something very personal and intimate. 
You held the record to your chest that was already feeling far fuller than it has in months. “Internally, I’m being very weird about it, but for now I’ll just say thank you. So, thank you, Erwin.”
“Good, can we get drunk now?” He sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he smiled his easy going grin at you. 
“We already are,” Mike piped up from his spot behind where Erwin was standing.
“Fine, can we get drunk-er now?”
“Yes! And I have just the thing,” Hange exclaimed, jumping up from their seat, balaclava still on, as they ran behind the bar to make whatever lethal concoction they had up their sleeve. When everyone stood to do their own things again, you approached Erwin with the record still held tightly against your heart. 
He looked down at you with a relieved fondness in his gaze, and you melted. “I really do love this.”
“I’m glad,” he shrugged, acting as if this present was really no big deal at all. 
“I’m gonna play it as soon as I get home,” you grinned, flipping the record around to read the tracklist. 
“Is that right?” He was standing closer than you expected, and you could feel the rumble of his laughter against your shoulder, where he was pressed against you.
“Mhmm,” you hummed, looking back up at him. A strange and overwhelming sense of contentment flooded between the two of you. And again you blamed the rush of emotion on the alcohol. Because otherwise, the feelings would be unexplainable. Or too uncomfortable to linger on for longer than a moment. 
The walk home was twice as long as it usually was. And far funnier than any of you could actually account for. You were wasted. Words slurring, unable to walk in a straight line, and a giggling mess. The entire walk home you clutched to Levi’s elbow as Erwin held tightly to Levi’s hand. And he could fool anyone, but you both knew how drunk Levi really was. He just had a great center of gravity. The stabilizing force between you and Erwin, tethering you two to the ground. The three of you spent three long minutes searching for your house keys in the bottom of your purse. Voices loud and intrusive in the city nighttime. Even though the train could still be heard, it was nothing compared to the obstructive whispering that was occurring on your doorstep. It would have been quieter if the three of you just talked regularly to each other. But logic and reason were not within reach. 
“I got it!” Erwin spoke, disregarding the whispering in exchange for a near echoing shout. You shushed him by pressing your forefinger to his lips, his smile stretching against your fingertips and he winked at you. You snatched the keys from his hand and turned around before your flustered state became noticeable. It took four tries before you were able to slot the key into the lock and you stumbled into your home when the weight of your body against the door threw it open. Levi caught you by tugging the tie of your coat towards him. His other hand somehow landing on your hip over your layers and gripping tightly in order to keep you from falling to the ground. When you turned to thank him, his face was only centimeters from yours. And you briefly thought about how much of a coincidence it was that you always seemed to find yourself in this position with him. But when you noticed the scowl on his face, you laughed. Your head fell forward, forehead knocking against his cheek because you couldn’t help it. He looked so over your antics and when you breathed out a chuckled “thanks, Levi” he simply grunted and pushed you gently into your home. 
Erwin found his way into your kitchen. The fridge light brightened your dark home and cast a harsh white glow over the small area. But it supplied enough light for you to kick off your boots and hook your coat onto the rack before following him into the kitchen as well. 
“You have no food,” he grumbled, opening a bottle of water before chugging down half of it in one go.
“We just ate at the bar. How are you still hungry?” You pulled your sweater over your head as you answered him and tossed it onto one of the barstools, leaving you in the thin black long-sleeve beneath. He handed another bottle over to you, unscrewing the cap and a little bit of the water dribbled over the lip and onto your thumb when you took it from him.
“Don’t judge me,” he argued, “you’re the one with an empty fridge. When was the last time you went to the grocery store?”
“I buy groceries on an as needed basis,” you slurred out, propping yourself up on your elbows on the island to keep from tipping to one side. 
“And you need food,” he laughed, kicking the fridge door closed and leaning against it, darkening the space again. You waved him off, instead turning around to see Levi staring inquisitively at your couch. You didn’t clean it off this morning before you went out. The blanket unfolded and your pillow still propped against the arm. An awkward rush of discomfort flooded into your chest. Something close to shame sat tightly against your sternum and you waited for Levi to say something. Anything really when he turned to you. But instead of asking the question you could practically see on the tip of his tongue, he took two steps towards you and grabbed the water bottle from your grip. You stared as he swallowed down a quarter of it in what seemed to be a singular gulp. 
“That was mine,” you said, the words an offended whisper. Erwin chuckled from his spot behind you. You turned to glance at him and he simply shrugged. Your home felt so small when they were in it. Their two bodies somehow filled up the space in a way you couldn’t really describe. Other than that you liked it. Your home felt more complete with them in it. And the weird fluttering feeling you found in your stomach sometimes when in their company decided to make a reappearance. 
“I should go to bed. I need to sleep off the liquor.” 
“Great idea,” Erwin replied, pushing himself off of your fridge and tossing his now empty bottle into the recycling bin you kept next to the trash can. “You should take ibuprofen before you sleep, though. May help with the inevitable hangover.”
“Yeah yeah. Whatever you say, dad,” you laughed with a roll of your eyes. He responded with a similar gesture, the both of you smiling at each other at the end of it. You walked them to your door, taking a steady breath to brace for the cold that would seep in when you opened it. There was a pause in your doorway as the three of you looked out at the city night. Gentle snow flurries fell to the ground, the scene idyllic and calm. And the silence that fell over the city should have felt eerie since it so rarely happened. But you only saw beauty in that brief silence. Broken only by the sudden passing of the train. 
“Good night,” you said as you stepped aside for them to walk out. As they walked past, Levi gave you a surprising hug. It was quick, but the squeeze of his arms around your shoulders was reassuring. And you would’ve returned it if he hadn’t released you so swiftly as if he shouldn’t have hugged you in the first place. Right after him, Erwin pressed a kiss to your temple. Unlike Levi, he lingered there for longer than would have been necessary between friends. Only to pull away with a whispered and returned “good night.”
You watched as they trotted down the steps, shutting your door only when you heard the opening of theirs. The space was yours again. Lonesome in its wake and a veil of knowing sorrow draped over the interior. But that was to be expected. And you found an odd comfort in it. Because above everything else, at the very least it was yours and no one could take that from you. 
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sboochi · 6 months
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Heirs chapter 2 is OUT!!!
Merida adopts Rapunzel. Hiccup makes a deal with the devil (Jack).
As promised, here's ch 2!!
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everythingsinred · 8 months
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~ essay navigation ~
Have you ever thought to yourself, "Anya's essays are interesting in theory, but I really don't wanna read ALL of it! I just wanna read the analysis of my favorite parts!" or maybe "I DID read all of Anya's essays but now I wanna reread one specific thing she talked about and I can't remember which post it was in because there's too many of them!" ? Me too! Don't even worry about it! Today I am addressing those issues with a TABLE OF CONTENTS!
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This is for essay parts AND in-depth character questions related to GA that I've answered. I get a LOT of questions about GA's ending and thus I feel like I've talked about it exhaustively. This is how I make it all digestible. <3 Love ya!
Anime NM Essay (6 parts/includes a self-contained and easy to navigate table of contents so I won't go into it again here)
NatsuMikan Essay (Natsume's Version) (30 parts. This is the one people actually read I think):
Part 1 (covers ch 1-4. corresponds to pt 1 of mikan's/ mikan entering the academy and the northern woods game)
Part 2 (covers ch 5-8. corresponds to pt 1+2+3 of mikan's/ northern woods game and mikan's intro to academy life)
Part 3 (covers ch 9-12, corresponds to pt 4 of mikan's/ dodgeball, letters, culture fest announcement, and central town)
Part 4 (covers ch 13-16, corresponds to pt 5 of mikan's/ the reo arc)
Part 5 (covers ch 17-20, corresponds to pt 6+7 of mikan's/ culture fest up to anna's shop)
Part 6 (covers ch 21-26, corresponds to pt 7+8 of mikan's/ rest of the culture fest)
Part 7 (covers ch 27-30, corresponds to pt 9 of mikan's/ exams, kaname & bear's story, beginning of z arc)
Part 8 (covers ch 31-35, corresponds to pt 10 of mikan's/ part 2 of z arc up to going through the tunnel)
Part 9 (covers ch 36-40, corresponds to pt 11+12 of mikan's/ part 3 of z arc up to the discovery of z's headquarters)
Part 10 (covers ch 41-44, corresponds to pt 12+13 of mikan's/ part 4 of z arc up to its conclusion)
Part 11 (covers ch 45-47, corresponds to pt 13 of mikan's/ natsume's bday and christmas ball prep)
Part 12 (covers ch 48-52, corresponds to pt 14 of mikan's/ christmas ball and winter cleaning)
Part 13 (covers ch 53-55, corresponds to pt 15 of mikan's/ part 1 of new year's arc up to n&m sleeping together)
Part 14 (covers ch 56-61, corresponds to pt 16 of mikan's/ part 2 of new year's arc up to yakumo and natsume's fight)
Part 15 (covers ch 66-70, corresponds to pt 17+18 of mikan's/ part 3 of new year's arc up to conclusion and aoi's departure)
Part 16 (covers ch 71-76, corresponds to pt 19+20 of mikan's/ transition arc including alice stones and valentine's day)
Part 17 (covers ch 77-80, corresponds to pt 21 of mikan's/ part 1 of sports fest arc up to the equipment mishap)
Part 18 (covers ch 81-86, corresponds to pt 22+23 of mikan's/ part 2 of sports fest arc up to n&m's masked hug and conclusion)
Part 19 (covers ch 89-91, corresponds to pt 24 of mikan's/ soul swap arc)
Part 20 (covers ch 93-95, corresponds to pt 25 of mikan's/ transition arc including swimming up to n&m hugging to comfort each other)
Part 21 (covers ch 96-100, corresponds to pt 26 of mikan's/ beginning of escape arc, natsume's confessions)
Part 22 (covers ch 101-116, corresponds to pt 27+28 of mikan's/ part 1 of time travel arc up to izumi's death)
Part 23 (covers ch 117-123, corresponds to pt 28 of mikan's/ part 2 of time travel arc up to conclusion & mikan's decision)
Part 24 (covers ch 124-138, corresponds to pt 29+30+31 of mikan's/ high school arc up to conclusion)
Part 25 (covers ch 140-143, corresponds to pt 32+33 of mikan's/ yuka's funeral, christmas ball and shiki's gift to mikan)
Part 26 (covers ch 144-145, corresponds to pt 33 of mikan's/ rapunzel arc)
Part 27 (covers ch 146-149/ natsume and ruka developments and new year's planning)
Part 28 (covers ch 150-163, corresponds to pt 34 of mikan's/ new year's concert and natsume's death)
Part 29 (covers ch 178-180, corresponds to pt 39 of mikan's/ final chapters, which we all know by now i despise)
Part 30 (covers the nm content in kageki, corresponds to pt 40 of mikan's)
NatsuMikan Essay (Mikan's Version) (40 parts. Longer and stole more of my soul but got less engagement) :
Part 1 (covers ch 1-2, corresponds to pt 1 of natsume's/ mikan entering the academy)
Part 2 (covers ch 3-5, corresponds to pt 1+2 of natsume's/ adventure in the northern woods)
Part 3 (covers ch 6-8, corresponds to pt 2 of natsume's/ mikan's intro to academy life)
Part 4 (covers ch 9-12, corresponds to pt 3 of natsume's/ dodgeball, letters, culture fest announcement, and central town)
Part 5 (covers ch 13-16, corresponds to pt 4 of natsume's/ the reo arc)
Part 6 (covers ch 17-19, corresponds to pt 5 of natsume's/ culture fest throughout the SA event)
Part 7 (covers ch 20-22, corresponds to pt 5+6 of natsume's/ culture fest up to imai sibling meeting)
Part 8 (covers ch 23-26, corresponds to pt 6 of natsume's/ culture fest up to conclusion)
Part 9 (covers ch 26-30, corresponds to pt 7 of natsume's/ exams, kaname & bear's story, beginning of z arc)
Part 10 (covers ch 31-35, corresponds to pt 8 of natsume's/ part 2 of z arc up to going through the tunnel)
Part 11 (covers ch 36-39, corresponds to pt 9 of natsume's/ part 3 of z arc up to mikan falling in the sand trap)
Part 12 (covers ch 40-43, corresponds to pt 9+10 of natsume's/ part 4 of z arc up to pengy's death)
Part 13 (covers ch 44-47, corresponds to pt 10+11 of natsume's/ conclusion of z arc, natsume's bday and christmas prep)
Part 14 (covers ch 48-52, corresponds to pt 12 of natsume's/ christmas ball and winter cleaning)
Part 15 (covers ch 53-55, corresponds to pt 13 of natsume's/ part 1 of new year's arc up to n&m sleeping together)
Part 16 (covers ch 56-61, corresponds to pt 14/ part 2 of new year's arc up to h+r+m chasing after natsume and ruka deciding to tell his and natsume's tale)
Part 17 (covers ch 65-67, corresponds to pt 15 of natsume's/ part 3 of new year's arc up to mikan getting hit by persona's alice for the first time)
Part 18 (covers ch 68-70, corresponds to pt 15 of natsume's/ part 4 of new year's arc up to conclusion and aoi's departure)
Part 19 (covers ch 71-73, corresponds to pt 16 of natsume's/ part 1 of transition arc, including alice stones and valentines day)
Part 20 (covers ch 74-76, corresponds to pt 16 of natsume's/ part 2 of transition arc, including the graduation concert and hoshino)
Part 21 (covers ch 77-80, corresponds to pt 17 of natsume's/ part 1 of sports fest arc up to equipment mishap)
Part 22 (covers ch 81-84, corresponds to pt 18 of natsume's/ part 2 of sports fest arc up to the borrowing race)
Part 23 (covers ch 85-88, corresponds to pt 18 of natsume's/ part 3 of sports fest arc up to kibasen and conclusion)
Part 24 (covers ch 89-92, corresponds to pt 19 of natsume's/ soul swap arc)
Part 25 (covers ch 93-95, corresponds to pt 20 of natsume's/ transition arc including swimming up to n&m hugging to comfort each other)
Part 26 (covers ch 96-100, corresponds to pt 21 of natsume's/ beginning of escape arc, natsume's confessions)
Part 27 (covers ch 101-110, corresponds to pt 22 of natsume's/ part 1 of time travel arc up to n&m/kaoru&yuka parallel)
Part 28 (covers ch 111-123, corresponds to pt 22+23 of natsume's/ part 2 of time travel arc up to conclusion and mikan's decision)
Part 29 (covers ch 124-131, corresponds to pt 24 of natsume's/ part 1 of high school arc up to hotaru's farewell)
Part 30 (covers ch 132-134, corresponds to pt 24 of natsume's/ part 2 of high school arc, including mikan getting 3 love confessions and returning 1)
Part 31 (covers ch 135-139, corresponds to pt 24 of natsume's/ part 3 of high school arc up to conclusion and yuka's death)
Part 32 (covers ch 140-142, corresponds to pt 25 of natsume's/ reuniting with mikan in labyrinth)
Part 33 (covers ch 143-145, corresponds to pt 26 of natsume's/ rapunzel arc)
Part 34 (covers ch 150-163, corresponds to pt 27 of natsume's/ new year's concert, escaping with persona, and natsume's death)
Part 35 (covers ch 164-166/ mikan trying to save natsume)
Part 36 (covers ch 167-169/ mikan's widow arc)
Part 37 (covers ch 170-172/ memories lesson)
Part 38 (covers ch 173-177/ mikan's departure)
Part 39 (covers ch 178-180, corresponds to pt 29 of natsume's/ final chapters... this part is just me ranting actually)
Part 40 (covers nm content in kageki/ corresponds to pt 30 of natsume's)
To be continued because Tumblr hates me and I hate it back <3
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hawkinsborne · 2 years
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@shesdaylight​ asked: “ Whoa, not so fast. We never finished introductions, remember? What’s your name, stranger? “ / eleven Meme || Not Accepting
     Hiding. She needed to hide. The bad people couldn't be far behind her and she needed a place to stay. As far away from them as she could get but she was hungry, oh so very hungry, and she wanted food to make the pains in her stomach go away. She didn't know how to survive on her but she had no choice. She wasn't going back there. Not after what had happened. Not after what she had seen. She didn't want to remember it either, so she'd force it out of her mind.
     There's a shake of her head at the other's words. She does not wish to speak. Does not wish to use her voice so instead she simply gestures towards a place that looks like it has food and makes a motion toward her stomach. Could she pass off without telling the other her name? Could she make this stranger get her food and help her getting away from the Bad People? She was going to try her hardest.
     Eleven stands there, in the hospital gown she escaped in. She was shaking ever so slightly from the cold and having been out in the rain all night. Rain. Yet another new experience for her to have discovered. She liked it. The way it felt upon her skin. The noises the sky would make with each loud boom and the flashes of light that would color in the night. She wanted to watch more of it but now that it was gone, she was cold and tired. She wanted nothing more than to find food and a place to sleep.
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