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endlich-allein · 3 years ago

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Interview with Till about his life: he fought with his father, killed his beloved dog, swam on a wild river and worked on suffering. How Till Lindemann's mind works

"I will finish you off" and why you fought for the German army.

Werner Lindemann wanders around the room, interrupting the silence with strange questions, writing something down. His motive is to get to know his son and make him a friend. But it's complicated. Generational conflict.

"My island of tranquility is shaken every day. The day before yesterday, a guy pulled on my socks because his were torn. Yesterday he didn't put out a single lamp in the house. Now, with voluptuous delight, he spits cherry pits into the cat's fur. Is this grown boy really an adult?"

The apprenticeship in Rostock, where you have to do window production after graduation, is the limit of boredom. Till Lindemann moved to his father in the countryside so that he could forget about the hustle and bustle of the city and not fall under the article for anti-social attitudes. He thought of a new life, in which there was no pointless work, and arranged an attic in his father's house.

In the mornings over coffee, he scolded life that everything went according to schedule. And listened very loudly to music - electronics and metal. My father didn't understand and grumbled: “I matured late. Naturally, I wanted to listen to the music I liked, but I could not get my hands on these records. For example, my father did not understand when I bought the Alice Cooper record for a month's salary.

Werner Lindemann was a children's writer who went through the war.

At the height of his career he disappeared for weeks on literary tours - his fame spread to teachers and librarians across the country. His father pecked at Lindemann for refusing to work and promised to turn him in:

"My willful child. What doesn't fit his standards is rejected as nonsense or crap." So he took a job as a carpenter, where he made shovel cuttings and cart wheels. The head foreman constantly drank vodka during the day, didn't want to be annoyed with questions and addressed the long-haired Lindemann with the nickname: "Mozart!" This suited him.

Werner Lindemann talked about war, hard existence and limitations. For example, about a grenade splinter that remained in his body. Lindemann did not believe in all these stories - but categorically did not accept service, war and murder:

“After that I objected: “I would hide, I would not go to war. Why did you even let yourself be dragged into this? You could have hidden."

And he said: “It didn't work out. They searched for it and it took away."

Then I said: “I would rather go under arrest. Never in my life, I would go to the front line to shoot people. It's against my nature. It would be better if I went to jail."

Much of the time father and son were simply silent, even while watching television.

"He regularly made me feel guilty, to say the least, he placed himself on a pedestal towards me: I shouldn't complain. At your age, I ran barefoot through the stubble, and in my stomach - a potato in a uniform."

The only acceptance is Mike Oldfield's music: "One day my father came to grumble again. At that moment I was listening to Mike Oldfield, and he sat down and said: "That sounds interesting."

For me it was like a quantum leap: my father sits in my room, listens to my music and thinks it was good. Probably because of melancholy. He was sitting in a rocking chair that I made myself - at the time I was working as a carpenter on a farm. I, too, always sat in an armchair, immersed myself in music and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes."

The conflict was intensified by a fight. Lindemann bought a Trabant car, installed speakers in it and tested the sound - loud as usual. “Then my father came and I had to turn off this fucking music. It was kind of loud for him. He was then fiddling around his cases of flowers, and then suddenly the situation escalated. I think he slapped me while I was still in the car.

He leaned toward me and hit me with the back of his hand. I made some bullshit remarks like, "Leave me alone," something like that. That was a provocation to him, and he said: "If you do that again, I'll hit you for real." And I said, "Then you'll get it back. Because you're crazy. Don't you dare to hit me anymore."

And then he hit me with his palm again. He wasn't controlling himself.

He was exalting himself. Instantly he introduced himself as a boxer - he had boxed in the Hitler Youth - and I just... I thought I didn't hit him, I just pushed him away. And then he stood in front of me again, "Come on, I'll finish you, you haven't got a chance!" Somehow. After that, he went up to the attic and threw all my stuff out the window.

It happened over the weekend, my sister was there, a lot of screaming, serious drama. Then I packed my things, put them in the car, went to a friend's house and never went into his house again. At first I lived with this friend, and a week later I bought myself a house in the village."

His father's book is about his son, which the son will only open up after the death of the father.

Lindemann is a late child. He was born when his father was 36. The gap in their relationship was felt in everyday life and perception of the world. Werner Lindemann woke up early in the morning, worked with the circular saw under the windows and did not understand when his son slept until noon after a working week.

Lindemann's parents then lived separately, but kept in touch. Mom worked as a journalist and discussed her texts with his father. "She still lived in Rostock and always came to see him only on weekends. Mostly on Sundays she came back quite early, because she couldn't stand the stress of being with him, either."

In 1988, the book “Mike Oldfield im Schaukelstuhl Notizen eines Vaters" In this book, Lindemann Senior describes the relationship with his son (whom he calls Timm in the book), who settled with him at the age of 18. The book was written in the 80s and laid on the table until the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany were reunited.

Werner Lindemann wanted his son to take up writing too. But this only amused him, although as a child he wrote poetry. At the age of 13, little Till Lindemann and his father were returning home along the bumpy road to Mecklenburg. They talked about career self-determination:

"You should already have thoughts about what you want to become, boy." My answer: "I don't know yet, maybe a fisherman on the high seas."

But immediately, no matter what I said, objections arose: “But then you have to get a certificate of maturity. But then you will be away all the time. But then you won't be able to start a relationship."

There was always a “but”.

At some point it got on my nerves, as usual. And I said: "Worst case scenario, I'll just become a writer.

I still remember how alienated his face became. "And what do you think then, what do I do! It's a very hard job! In fact, it's not even a job, it's a passion. And it's a job that's supposed to be enjoyable."

I said, "I don't know anybody who works with pleasure."

"Yeah, that's the problem. You have to look for a job that gives you pleasure." Then I say again, "But some people never get to choose..." This gigantic discussion happened because I didn't take his profession seriously. At the same time, he was completely lost, funny!"

Lindemann thoughtfully read his father's book, in which he comprehends their relationship, after his death. Faked for hidden anger and indecision. For example, in a situation where their dog Kurt was bitten by a fox. The father was frightened because of rabies: “At the same time, we did not even know whether he was bitten by a fox or not. The father immediately called the huntsman. But I said: no one will enter this courtyard and shoot the dog. I'll do it myself if I really need it. At some point I really had to kill the dog."

Lindemann is not a monster. The animals he fiddled with are an important attribute of childhood. He had an aquarium and hamsters, brought mice and rats home, and was friends with dogs. “Like many children of new buildings, he felt the need for someone alive, in need of love,” said Werner Lindemann. Sometimes the appearance of an animal in the house was surprising:

“This guy will never say what he's up to. He appears on the doorstep at the same time as me. He gets out from his vehicle, throws his coat open and puts a young black shepherd in my hands. "Your Christmas present!"

Till's father is speechless. My son stands before me like the sun's little brother. Touchingly concerned, he directs me into the house, working out a plan for the animal husbandry, accommodation and diet of our new pet housemate.

With confusion, a question flies from my lips, "Wheredid you get the dog from?" "Timm" is gibbering, "Imagine, the mason in the barnyard wanted to hang him, simply wanted to strangle him with a rope, said he was a worthless eater..."

Werner Lindemann died of stomach cancer in 1993, when his son was 30. They didn't finally reconcile, but Till visited him in his last days and was there for him with his mother: "They couldn't be without each other, even though they lived apart. Unreal, but my mother never had another man afterwards. To this day she can't let go of him."

- Not going to the Olympics in Moscow and ending up in the German ghetto

Lindemann had the knowledge and the potential to be a swimmer. And a shyness that pounded harder three days before the competition than concerts in front of crowds of thousands. "I know how difficult it is to develop willpower and stamina and instill those attributes. In the GDR this was instilled in us by coaches and so-called functionaries."

Lindemann came to swimming at the age of eight and devoted his entire youth to the sport. He would get up for training at five in the morning and pass out in the evening. His grandmother watched him from the stands. At a competition in Leipzig she shouted at the coach, who told Lindemann off for a poor result. The grandmother took the coach by the ear and said: "How do you talk to my grandson?"

Sports tightened up his upbringing and developed self-discipline. “Drilling - probably the boy has already received this experience as a swimmer,” Lindemann's father wrote. - Once he had to take second place in a competition, but by no means first place. Of course, he got carried away, forgot about it, became the first, thanks to which he received a shouting for indiscipline. And whenever he lost in the future, his coach would torture him at practice for a long time and yelled at him: "Even if you win, you're not a winner yet!"

Lindemann swam the 1.5 km freestyle and could have gone to the 1980 Olympics in Moscow. Everything was ruined when he left the hotel without permission during a competition in Florence: "I didn't want to run, but just wanted to look at the city. Cars, bikes, girls. I was caught and kicked out of the team, but then I didn't give the required results either."

Lindemann competed at the European Junior Championships, but did not go any higher. After the story in Florence, his career in sport slipped away. Perhaps an abdominal injury influenced his departure. Lindemann is gone, but he doesn't yearn: "I was relatively young. There were no good [memories] left. I was glad it was over."

"The hardest part was getting back to normal. I fell into a real hole. My home was no longer a sports school, but a ghetto in Rostock. Now I stood out through drinking and fighting. I used to be surrounded only by beautiful ladies who were interested in swimming. Now I had fierce women standing in front of me asking, "How come you don't drink?" When I was shy about approaching a girl, it was interpreted as: "Are you gay?"

Lindemann now works with a coach and swims a few kilometers before his tours to get in shape: "When I exercise, I feel a certain lightness - not only physically, but also mentally. I just feel better. The main problem is staying in shape. That's where self-discipline comes into play. Teeth grinding is important."

- Three weeks in the wild and loneliness as a creative tool

Emotionally, concerts = sports:

"How do I go on tour? Hungry. And happy. It is good to compare concerts with sport. You don't want to do both at first. You don't want to go on stage. You don't want to go to the pool. You don't want to go to the boxing ring. It all happens with reluctance. It has to be accepted somehow, that's life: spring, summer, fall, winter.

When it's done, winter's gone, the blooming begins, greenery appears, it gets bright, and you start to get a taste for it. When it's over, you feel happy. Then the body produces a sea of chemistry, a lot of happiness hormones. I think the body rewards itself."

The stage, like sports, is an embarrassment, but a necessity. Lindemann wore dark glasses in order to collect fewer views from the audience. Therefore, a couple of steps before the water, he looked at the pool with a shiver. You need to cope with yourself in order to open up to new emotions.

Lindemann's gut requires solitude and moderate solitude. This is the point:

“Loneliness is always good for a creative push - you drink a glass of wine and you feel even shitier. Art is not complete without suffering; art exists to compensate for suffering."

With his friend Joey Kelly, Lindemann spent three weeks on the Yukon River. They paddled through the wilderness in a kayak for eight to 10 hours each and lived in a tent. Lindemann didn't take a tape recorder with him, so he transferred the lyrics wandering in his head on paper.

They were catching inspiration and atmosphere:

"There were times when we wouldn't say a word for hours, but then: look there, look there! It was breathtakingly beautiful. These relatively fast-changing panoramas and skies, layers of clouds, the colors.

Except for a few bears and wolves, it's hard to see anyone else out there, it's exhilarating. Along the way we saw two hunters setting traps. No one else.

I grew up in the countryside, and I have a very strong connection to nature. I love fishing, hunting. It's an archaic experience that I like to revisit over and over again. When I'm in the city for too long, I start to miss it."

To recreate situations in the Yukon, Lindemann and Kelly trained for nine months on the Rhine river in Germany because of its liveliness.

"We went down the Rhine to where the transport ships create huge bow waves. If we hadn't had a coach with us, we probably would have been sunk by the side wave impact already during our first attempt," Lindemann said.

Together with Kelly, he had four sessions with two coaches and swam from Cologne to Koblenz [more than 100 kilometers by car]. Lindemann trained separately each week on the lakes in Mecklenburg. It's both physically challenging and savage identical to being natural.

In 2015, Till started his solo project Lindemann. On the album Skills In Pills, the song Yukon was released, in which the lyrics appeared first, and then the music.

- "My lyrics come from pain rather than desire."

The country boy is big and not much of a talker. That's how the Rammstein members saw him at the start, when they were hanging out at home. "He looked cool, like a big peasant talking one sentence an hour," keyboard player Christian "Flake" Lorenz recalled. - He always had food and vodka. He'd just steal a couple of ducks somewhere and cook them on a tray. And then, frozen like in Sleeping Beauty, there were people lying in corners and on trunks in his house."

Lindemann loves and appreciates home gatherings. This came from my father, who always had guests. “In my opinion, this is the little bit that I inherited from him. Throwing parties and gathering people. Throwing parties and getting people together. He just enjoyed being a good host. The house was always full of guests from Leipzig, from Rostock, foreign guests, even from Kazakhstan.

It was always exciting for him. He stood at the stove, cooked, bought an abundance of wine, and there was always a fire in the garden. At some point he stopped drinking, then he left the party at 21:00 and the whole company continued to feast. And in the morning he got up at four, cleaned and tidied up."

Till Lindemann is about self-digging, overcoming and childish shyness, which is covered by a pumped-up figure of a swimmer. This is how Lindemann decrypts himself:

• “And I really am like a big child - ill-mannered, but harmless. People think that I am always strong, explosive. This is not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt, but in love I am romantic and passionate."

• “At the very beginning, you sit somewhere in a dark room, open a bottle of wine and figure out how to make the lyrics popular with the music. At first you only have a vague idea of what it could be.

And when, three years after recording, mixing, and more mixing, developing the artwork, all this nonsense, then you stand on stage, and what you came up with then really works, when you manage to get 20 thousand people to raise their hands, then you experience incredible sensations."

• “Art is a kind of therapy.

When I feel that something is arising inside me, domineering and is most often dark, I need to give it a way out, otherwise it will simply crush me. So destruction and self-destruction are the two pillars on which my creativity is based.

But everyone chooses this for himself.

• “My lyrics arise from feelings and dreams, but still more from pain than by desire. I often have nightmares, and I wake up at night sweating, as I see terrible bloody scenes in my dreams. My lyrics are a kind of valve for the lava of feelings in my soul.

We are all struggling to hide behind good manners and outward decency, but in fact we are governed by instincts and feelings: hunger, thirst, horror, hatred, the desire for power and sex. Of course, there is also additional energy in us - this is love. Without it, all human feelings would fade away."

- "When you're constantly living someone else's life, it's very hard to get back into your own skin. I like that in principle, but sometimes you start to get confused - are you out of a role or not yet. You're already Till, or you're still a homicidal maniac."

- "I hate the noise. I hate the chatter. I expose myself to it, which is pure masochism. And then I have to protect myself from it. Noise makes you crazy. You die in it."

• “I think there is no God. And if he is and actually allows all the misfortunes on this earth, then he must punish me along with other sufferings. I will not pray to such a god."

This is how the members of Rammstein see Till - flexible and with a split personality:

Guitarist Paul Landers: "Till is so good that when you let him know that his lyrics should go in a different direction, the very next day he brings a new version of the song."

Guitarist Richard Kruspe: “He's a hell of an extreme man. He dives very deeply into situations where I cannot follow him. Everything he does is very extreme; I don't know anyone who does it. "

Drummer Christoph Schneider: "I would not want to be in Till's shoes: his soul is tormented by doubts and contradictions, he is equally a moralist and a monster."

June 1, 2021 - Translate by Lindemann Belgium

#very interesting #till's life #till is love 🖤#till lindemann #till 2021 #werner lindemann #flake lorenz #paul landers #christoph schneider #richard kruspe #oliver riedel #joey kelly #rammstein #t.lindemann #t.lindemann 2021

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localspirit · 3 years ago

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were u ever skeptical of witchcraft/spiritualism? im asking cuz i think that the biggest reason why i haven't had much success with these things is because even though i would try to keep an open mind while i'm working there's still in the back of my brain that idea that it's not gonna work and i think that's why it doesn't work for me cuz i can't get over that hurdle. was wondering if u ever experienced the same thing when u were starting

i am so fucking sorry cherry this is 10 paragraphs long

okay hmmm.. i'll say yes because my religious beliefs didnt mention anything about reincarnation, ghosts, really a 'life after death' besides heaven / hell. i was always so confused when hearing ghost stories bc like umm how can that happen.. theyre supposed to be in heaven... etc. my circle was also small in middle school / early highschool and the only witches i knew were cringe 'wiccan' emo white girls in school and on tumblr who would only say they were witches to amplify their edginess. so yea i would say i was skeptical, but not a harsh 'your beliefs are wrong' and 'youre delusional' skeptic that many are. i was always open and curious to know more.

i experienced things when i was a kid, not crazy paranormal activity, but like when i would lay on my back to sleep, it would feel like i was swaying on a ship in the middle of the ocean. (because i was accidentally meditating). and i would never feel truly 'alone' even if nobody was around me, so when i was alone in my room, house, or walking home by myself, i would 'talk to myself' as if i was talking to somebody standing right next to me. i think that mightve been what intrigued me to know more. i started to (try to) meditate when i was 14 and performed my first spell at 14 too. it was a curse but i had no clue what i was doing, and magic is mostly intention so of course it didnt work LOL. it just looked like it did.

watching videos and reading listings by PROFESSIONAL spirit workers and witches helped me learn a lot. i actually jumped into spirit work last december when i saw an ebay listing for a 'haunted porcelain clown'. i collect porcelain clowns because i am a freak and when i read that it was haunted i just knew it was real- not gave it the benefit of the doubt, i treated it like it was real from the beginning. i told everybody i was excited for my new friend to arrive. and the night he came over i experienced quite a bit of activity from him. i think he felt my excitement ??! because spirits can read and feel peoples emotions. i dont think he wouldve been happy like that if i was a skeptic and doubted he was present. he would actually be a bit annoyed and sad, so why bother with the activity. as a spirit worker i really look up to put it,

“I do not recommend the purchase of a spirit vessel for anyone who is purchasing solely for the aspect of entertaining friends and family. This is not fair to the spirit, as this is not the reason he or she wanted to be adopted. [...] They are more willing to communicate with people who have their best interests at heart, and they are less likely to communicate and make things "happen" around you if you are strictly trying to put on a show for people. This will annoy the "?*#!" out of them, and they will most often not comply! If they do comply, you might want to run. (And again, I am NOT responsible for the outcome. You're on your own if you piss them off). If they do not retaliate against you for making a circus freak out of them, which would be the worst case scenario, they are extremely likely to jump ship. (Leave the vessel you purchased, leave your home, and find another item to attach to).”

i forgot where i was going with this 😀 i think i was saying: activity is more likely to happen if you keep an open mind, open heart, and have good intentions in mind. which is hard to do BUT! just keep reminding yourself there are ppl who work with spirits every day (me! DING!), see them every day, communicate with them every day (mediums), and their jobs revolve around them. they are 1000% real.

magic is a bit harder to prove because magic depends on yourself, not outside forces and beings like spirit work. magic is 1% ingredients / instructions and 99% intention and belief. if you perform a spell and say the entire time ‘this wont work’ it will most certainly not work. if youre inexperienced but go into a spell saying ‘i am so excited for this. i am so happy things are abt to change. this will be the catalyst for my wanted outcome’ it will most certainly WORK. intention is literal energy you are putting into the spellwork. your intention means everything. just like if you try a new hobby, if you go into it saying ‘i dont know... i dont think this will go well... why am i even trying’ then your intention is way way down and youre not hopeful at all. hope is key, and hope increases a LOT when you see professional witches speak of how they went into magic as a novice. i have a video in mind you might like or benefit from (-:

youtube

i still, TO THIS DAY, doubt myself sometimes with my developing psychic abilities, divination (tarot), and spellwork despite my work being confirmed by different spirit workers around the world. our brains are literally hardwired to believe the negative first. ‘this wont work.’ ‘this isnt real.’ ‘this will never happen.’ ‘im stuck here forever.’ i understand. we are all like this. but i think with a lot of inner work and confidence we can rewire our brains to see what really is around us and what our natural abilities are if we have a certain mindset.

not to mention several cultures around the world speak of spirits- even spiritwork. western media uses these as a grab for money. not to mention selling things like sacred sage, merchandise with chakra symbols on them, and either fake crystals or real crystals that are not ethically sourced for MONEY. meanwhile they shame other cultures, point fingers and mock them for their work with spirits and beliefs of the soul. this is why you dont see many spiritworkers around here. thats why there are more fake psychics than real ones- and when they are real, they are ridiculed over and over again because it ‘cant possibly be real’. thats the western world for you. also... im not chirstian but didnt the bible say something like ‘father, son.... holy SPIRIT’? 🤨 hmm. interesting. hmm. curious. i am very intelligent.

i think you just need to continue to tell yourself that magic is real, spirits are real, all around us, and life would be too simple if spirits showed themselves every time somebody asked. life would be too simple if our brains were programmed to see the positive first. idk why we as living being are like this, but i know that everybody is actually capable of performing magic and communicating with spirits. communication could be as simple as ‘if youre here, can you touch my arm?’ and you feeling your arm get numb, or holding a pendulum and seeing it swing. that was my communication when i first started, so of course i would tell myself ‘oh, my arm is just cold.’ or ‘oh, i swung it on accident.’ now i hear their voices, feel them more solidly, and they visit my dreams and are able to recite the dream before i explain what it was.

again! if i were u i would READ HAUNTED ITEM LISTINGS! preferably on etsy, because the ones on ebay are so short. the ones who are pretty popularly known spirit workers (you will know from how many reviews and purchases theyve gotten) have so much information. i learn something new every time i read a new one because there are so many types of spirits that manifest in different forms. (and yes, fairies, djinn, vampires, mermaids, and fae are real! hard to believe I KNOW!! my mind was blown). psychic abilities such as clair(audience, sentience, voyance), telepathy, and mind reading are also real. and we ALL have the capability to have them. we just need to work a lot on it and build up on them. this goes for intuition as well.

ummm i really hope im not forgetting anything. AND SORRY THIS IS SO LONG. i really could go on forever about this. i think its so cool you are interested in these things because curiosity and doubt is the first step that i took to get where i am rn. and rn im not even a great spiritworker or anything. im still trying really hard to build up on my abilities, communicate better, and amplify my spells.

#ask #i didn’t proofread enough im SORRY. rb = ok

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kai-anakin · 4 years ago

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I love you

Summary: Theo and Y/N never got along. The pack knew this, their friends knew this, everyone knew this, but as a tragic attack leaves Y/N badly hurt... Theo starts to realize what he truly feels for Y/N

Warnings: Angst, kinda slowburn

Authors note: this is my first fic ever so it might not be that good but I hope y’all enjoy 🥺

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I had gotten a call from Stiles a few minutes ago telling me to hurry my ass out of my house for a new pack mission. He has been my best friend for years and the only other human besides myself in the McCall pack. I was assigned to go with Scott to find our newest enemy alpha leader. He was said to have a large pack of betas and known to be dangerous and would do anything for power. Yah not scary at all right.

As Scott and I left his car, we realized we walked into a trap. Multiple betas came hurdling at us as we tried to defend ourselves. One beta, probably just turned recently, came for my throat and left a huge mark. My neck was burning but I had to fight back or he would probably rip my throat out. Another beta came at me fast and I didn’t have time to react. They clawed at my abdomen. The room looked as if it was spinning and my head was pounding. I could tell I was losing a lot of blood already. Luckily Scott was there and managed to help us both escape into his car. He noticed the amount of blood I was losing and rushed me back to his house where the rest of our pack resided.

Everything was fast paced now. I could hear Stiles and Liam panicking as Lydia and Malia were yelling at Scott to rush me to the hospital. Lydia ran for her keys while Scott hurried me into his car. Derek was planning on driving, knowing how reckless Scott would be if he was driving while stressed. I looked around in the vehicle and everyone in the pack was present. Everyone but Theo. Of course he wouldn’t come, why would he? Actually it was quite a surprise that he didn’t come to laugh at my demise. To mock me for being weak and defenseless. To tell me how I don’t deserve to be in Scott’s pack. I tried as hard as I could to block out any thoughts about him, but I hate him so much sometimes he’s all I remember, all I can think about.

I always gloated to Theo about how much better I was than him. Now look at me, lying on my death bed barely breathing. A few minutes later I could hear the doctor outside telling Malia I would be fine after she threatened to rip his throat out. Typical Malia, her hearts in the right place at least, gotta love her for that.

The thought of coming out of this alive was unbelievable. I was human, I’m meant to be expendable but here I am. I survived. And with this thought I blacked out once again.

It’s been a few weeks since the incident and I started to recover slowly. I decided to make some popcorn and sit down to watch a movie when I heard a knock on my door. It was probably Stiles coming back to check in on me so I hurried to the door.

Once I opened the door I saw Theo. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Bags under his eyes, messy hair, pale skin. I didn’t want to admit it but at times he made we wish I didn’t hate him the way I did. It was no secret that Theo was incredibly attractive and almost everyone at beacon hills high school was in love with him. Everyone but me. We stared at each other for a while until I finally motioned for him to come into the house. He seemed more tense than usual and I really wanted to ask why but at the same time my ego got in the way.

We stood in silence for a bit without saying anything to each other. My stitches started to burn and I winced in pain. I guess Theo seemed to notice because he rushed over and helped me onto my couch. He finally decided to say something.

“So I heard about your injury” he said awkwardly, trying to make conversation

“Yah it’s better now” I said giving him a small smile

“Why did you go with Scott”

“What?”

“Why did you with him? You’re human, you know you would get hurt if you went against a whole pack of betas and an alpha” he said, his voice getting louder after each word

“He’s my friend, no one else could’ve gone with him because it was such short notice and we needed intel. I trust him with my life”

“You could’ve gotten killed by the way, do you understand that?” I’ve never seen Theo so angry and seeing him act like this annoyed me. Why was he doing this?

“Guess what, I’m alive and now we realize that the alpha is smarter than we expected. Enough intel has been obtained and now we can plan better for our next attack”

“What if you weren’t so lucky? What if I had lost y-” Theo was quick to stop himself. I didn’t hear the last part since he got so quiet.

“Why does this even matter to you? You hate me don’t you. Go about your day. Mock me. Make fun of me. That’s all you ever do right?”

“You really don’t get it do you”

“Get what? You hate me, I hate you. Why do you care so much, is it cause you won’t have anyone to belittle anymore if I died? Or is it cause you wanted to be the one to finish the job” I screamed in frustration

At this point Theo was mad. He looked at me, blue eyes piercing through my soul. I needed an answer. He can’t just come barging into my house, then tell me what to do.

“Why are you so quiet? Tell me why you came here.”

“ITS BECAUSE IM IN LOVE WITH YOU”

Theo realized what he said and quickly turned around, not able to look into my eyes. I still couldn’t process any of it. Was this just another trick to make me vulnerable? I hated him, I need to hate him. I couldn’t let my feelings get the best of me and let me expose myself to him. Theo started walking towards the door and grabbed the handle. I had to stop him. I knew the answer now.

“Theo..” I said so lightly but I knew he heard me. He was a werewolf after all.

He stopped before he could open the door, slowly turning to me. Theo still couldn’t face me but I inched closer to him. I didn’t need superhearing to hear how fast and loud his heart was beating. He couldn’t have been lying. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable.

“Look I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t owe me anything in return, I’ll leave now”

I moved my hand to his face, we were both afraid of what was happening but we let it happen. We wanted this. He flinched slightly at the touch of my hand at his face.

“Y/N I didn’t realize it at first, but all those times we fought, made fun of each other, teased one another... I enjoyed that. I missed you so much. Over the last few weeks I finally understood how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you Y/N. I was afraid that you would get hurt again which is why I was mad. You make me feel something no one has ever made me feel. I love you Y/N”

“Theo... I guess I didn’t want to come to terms with how I felt about you. Considering how annoying you were when we first met” the both of us laughed, remembering all those times we would tease each other to our hearts content. “But now I know, I love you theo raeken”

Theo started to smile and I could see him shy away. He lowered my hand away from his face and held it tightly. He took my face with his other hand and we looked deeply into each other’s eyes. We both wanted this so badly but neither of us could start it. I guess Theo couldn’t handle the tension anymore (he was always the more impatient one) and he smashed his lips onto mine. The kiss was innocent but intense all at once. If we didn’t run out of air we could’ve been doing this for hours. As soon as we started to stop breathing heavily he grabbed my waist and kissed me again. I moved my hand to his hair as he moved his lips to my neck. I never wanted anything more than him.

Unfortunately our fun came to an end once we heard Stiles’ Jeep pull over. I guess he finally remembered to check in on me. This boy never had good timing. EVER.

Stiles made a grand entrance through the door and saw me and Theo in each other’s arms.

“What the hell happened here?!?”

#theo raeken #theo raeken x reader #theo raekan imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski #liam dunbar #malia tate #scott mccall #lydia martin #angst #slowburn #fanfiction #theo raeken x you

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araisbored · 4 years ago

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Obelisk

That’s the only quirky title I could come up to make this a little bit more interesting.

I’m reviewing my favorite book again. More like making another post about it. Because I seem like the type of person to not shut up about something she truly, truly, deeply love. Though, I won’t really making a review. Because I am in no state to make one of those. I don’t know I just I’m not that qualified to that yet. Though I read millions of books, I still won’t. I re-read my last “review” and it just make me cringe because I can’t understand what I’m saying and there’s a bunch of errors on my sentence. Not that this whole post won’t containing grammar errors, but still. Also, the cringing intensifies when I saw that Jennifer Niven (the author of this book) liked my bizarrely wrong blog entry. Ms. Niven, if by any chance, reading this again, I love your work and I’m sorry for a lot of grammatical errors. Ms. Niven, your work changed my life and help me get through a rough time. Sounds cliché but its the truth.

To repeat what I typed, I won’t make a review. Yet, I’ll post a very private diary log which where I somehow discuss my opinions about this book. So here it is.

Trigger warning: Suicide topics, cutting and mental issues might come up on the next following paragraph. And it’s really graphic. Because it is a personal log on my digital diary. Beware.

May 17, 2019: Theodore’s death, Avengers: End game and GoT discussion.

I never had a proper review of this book. Because lets be real here. Its me and probably won’t matter. Last time or more like last last year, I made a book recommendation/favourites about this book. And I emphasize on that blog post that it’s not a book review. NOT A BOOK REVIEW. At all.

Because:

I am scared of the internet scrutinizing my opinions and views about this book.

It’s about mental health or part of it. So it is really a sensitive topic and I even haven’t figured myself out. So I’m not really sure if I’m the right person you want to have an opinion regarding with this topic. One thing about me is that you don’t go asking me questions on how you figured your life or how you deal with depression because, oh boy oh boy you’re in a wrong place honey.

Last night I searched Theodore Finch on twitter. Yes, twitter. Because that is where you get the real opinions. Real tea. As well as the stupid ones. And I read one thread or whatever you call it, some sort of a conversation or replies from one girl to another. (I just assumed you’re girl and I’m sorry if you’re not. I am really sorry for misgendering you.) The other girl said that she’s kind of annoyed how everyone around Theodore doesn’t get the signs when it’s literally on their faces. When you come to think of it. Its true. All the signs of Theodore’s disease was there. Bluntly on their faces. It’s kind of fascinating how it’s not noticed by his family and friends or even Violet. But again right now thinking about it, maybe because it happened when this world just slowly noticing or paying attention about mental health. Hold a second, let me search when it was published. Yeah, I'm right its 2015. A year of coming of age for the late Baby Boomers are introduced to depression and when people, mostly teenagers are committing suicide. I would be very harsh on my words because it was just me talking to myself anyways. So yeah, that's also the year where I'm cutting myself and wanted to kill myself. So no wonder Finch’s family have no idea about his mishaps and adventures. So about that discussion, it was already solved. That year was just the year where naïve people are introduced to mental health and issues. Anyways, back to that conversation. The other girl defended the book/author. That the author, Jenifer Niven, was just portraying real life happenings. That these things happens in real life. People really die because of mental health issues. By the way, Finch mental diagnosis wasn’t really mentioned on the book directly. As far as I can remember. That’s why I'm re-reading it again now. But so far zero mentioned of diagnosis or bipolarity(Is that even a word? idc.). Just the mention of him wanting to kill himself, the erotic changes in his moods, lack of appetite and being insomniac. He doesn’t sleep one night or he sleeps then have very bad nightmares after that. It’s pretty obvious but again, let’s refer to the points given above. Oh, oh! Then there’s one time he repainted his bedroom from blood red to blue. If that’s not alarming enough then idk anymore. But yes, 2015. The coming of age and the year where we birthed more stupid late boomers. But, yes. Wild book. A very wild and very BRILLIANT book. It’s the stupid characters or the people in Finch’s life that suck. Which is why I kind of sided to the girl who said that that the author doesn’t really write the characters well. Let’s call her Girl A. And the other girl who defend Niven, Girl B. I’m pretty sure you’re both girls but just in case, I’m gonna apologize again if I'm misgendering you. Or if you don’t wanna be called a girl. I can’t say or disclose that Girl B was wrong because he clearly have a point too. It happens in real life. People die from depression and I might be one soon.

Just wanna say that It’s a good discourse. Arguments like that are my favorites where both sides are not wrong nor right either, makes you really think. A read. Both the book and that twitter discourse. If you happened to read it, good. But if not sorry I can’t link it for you.

So for my opinion (oh no, here we go) I agree on both of them , as if its not yet obvious. I guess if it was written in the present days the author could’ve change the characters and made Finch alive. Or checked-in in a mental institution or he’ll be given a medical assistance he really needs. Because the only medical attention he was given was thru his Guidance councilor, Embryo. Which is a good thing, but also I think Finch’s situation needs more professional attention. No offence to all guidance councilors out there. I know you guys try your best. But you know, Niven can make Finch visit a psychiatrist in a clinic/mental institution right? Like violet. I know Finch’s financial state is bad but.. idk there’s something can be done here. But again it was during that time where people are shouting “Depression isn’t real”, stupid people posting tweets and Facebook status on how “Suicide is for the week”; they watch 13 reasons why and decided to skip the whole point of the show and just assumed that “yeah depression is for the weaklings”. It only shows how ignorant people are. They’re the kind of people who standby when you get punch on the face or laugh when people spreads rumors and lies about you. Basically, bystanders. I’m sorry I’m a little snappy. If you haven’t noticed. I don’t know I’m just mad today.

I think the book still holds it. And justify the ending. Though part of me really hate it too. But it kind of made me realized about a lot of things, not just about me but also about how I should interact with other human beings. I hate the ending because it breaks my heart but I guess it was necessary?? Or not. Any how, It was a good ending. Maybe its just me because I’m a masochist. But I can not think of any other impactful and realistic way on ending it. (Rereading this again and I just need to clear things up. That IM NOT A MURDERER OR A KILLER. I DONT NORMALIZE SUICIDE, but from a standing point the ending is justified. Its sad but its, again, realistic.) But still, breaks my heart, Theodore is a precious boy. Who deserves nothing but love. And I hope his story was more known by the people so jackasses would know how to treat their family and friends better.

[This part was cut because I talked about Avengers and GoT ending; Which is very relevant to this topic]

Love,

Ara xx

So yeah, that’s some of my diary entry. Re-reading it makes me realized how funny I am. Jesus I should read more of these. Who knows, I might post it here. If it’s not that personal. I’ll end this here now. I hope wherever you are you’re having a good day.

Ttyl, Ara!

#books #jennifer niven #All the Bright Places

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iwilleatratfood · 4 years ago

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happy holidays fellers heres my review of the newest madhouse post

long ass post that deals with abuse and a very thinly veiled death threat, read at your own caution

TW Abuse

im not gonna go too grammar insane as a writer especially since a lot of pokemon grammar is hotly contested. however like in the second paragraph lily makes a pretty obvious tense error lmfao. theres tons of little ones scattered around. obviously not proofread lol

“She didn’t know, Bonnie. This lady…” G racked her brain, looking for a way to communicate the problem in a way Bonnie would understand. “…She was kinda like the Sun.”

Bonnie prickled, her face contorting into pure, unadulterated horror. “BUT THE SUN IS PURE EVIL!” She made it very clear to the entire household how little favor she had of the sun, the bright thing in the sky that always made her head hurt.

was this necessary? this may surprise you lily but the people reading madhouse have basic reading skills. you dont have to explain this to us like we’re three.

“Your Mom wouldn’t let her split us up, though. It was the one thing she refused to cave on,” she continued. “And the lady got more and more angry over not controlling her completely. So one Christmas, she broke your Mom’s heart more than it had ever been broken.” G’s mind flooded with memories of that day. The aftermath of what was supposed to be a cheerful getaway christmas vacation for Lily and her then fiance. G awoke one night to find that Lily had come home earlier than expected bawling her eyes out on the couch. The look of absolute despair on the face of her lifelong friend. The things she spoke of. It still made G’s blood boil over ‘the last one’.

first off this shouldn’t be one paragraph if you want your readers to not immediately skip over it. the reason why authors like david foster wallace use it in books like infinite jest is to create prose that is painful and hard to look at. i dont think that was your intent.

second, i made a post on this shit and deleted it before lizzy told her side of the story because i wanted to not come off as a complete asshole. but i really dont care anymore.

putting your real life relationship problems, about a person whos accused you of sexual coercion (bc lets not mince words here, that’s what it is) is literally one of the lowest things you could do. this isn’t for “healing”, this is trying to weaponize your fanbase to harass your ex.

“You were going to have to tell her eventually,” G argued as she took a step back and glanced at Mikaila and Ginger, who had both clued in to the conversation and were looking at her disapprovingly. “What?”

“Yeah, but not when she’s still so small and baby,” Lily pouted before going back to comforting Bonnie. “It’s okay, sweetie. The last one is gone and she’s never coming back. Mommy is much happier now that she’s gone. It’s okay.”

“Then Momma will eat her,” Lily said with a warm smile.

“Oh don’t call me Momma!” G groaned.

Lily snickered. “Your Godmom will eat her.”

“That’s better,” G huffed. “And yes, I will. I’ll bury every fang in her sternum. I’ll purge her evil from the world with the unstoppable power of my digestive tract.”

hm wonder why this couldn’t make it into a comic. wonder why it couldnt be put to a visual medium right after lizzy’s twitlonger. hmmmm

“Was G like this when you guys were little?” Ginger asked.

“Sort of? When we were little, G’s psychic powers were still developing so she couldn’t really read people as effectively,” Lily explained. “And since we were both little, we had little kid things to worry about. Telling Bonnie about Kirsten only made her understand the feelings she picks up better. That’s why we have to be careful what we tell her.”

ok again with the past tense shit. i noticed this before and im starting to get annoyed. if this is happening now and its not a memory, use the present tense speaking verbs ffs.

my real point here is why is this a pokemon work. like whats the point of having G be a pokemon or this taking place within the canon universe. this is a ultimate flaw with a lot of sentient pokemon works, so lily you’re not exactly special here, but i feel like recently its become more glaring.

if all the pokemon act like humans and are sentient like humans, why are they owned by them? if i made G a sentient alien and removed all the pokemon shit, not a whole lot would change, and thats a fucking problem if ur making a work within that universe.

“I look forward to it every year,” G smiled as she hugged Bonnie tightly.

Ginger turned a smirk back to Lily. “So it’s like an anniversary?”

“It’s not an anniversary!” Lily exclaimed, wheeling around with pursed lips. “Why do the two of you always go there?”

if pokemon/human is morally wrong stop teasing it in your work.

“Why not?” Bonnie pouted.

“Because… dear lord, how do I explain this to a baby?” Lily let her head fall back against the couch.

“Because it would make both of us unhappy,” G explained as she ran her fingers through Bonnie’s hair.

Bonnie blinked, looking up at her Godmother in complete and utter bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

G bit the inside of her cheek slightly as she took a moment to consider her next words. “Well… a lot of reasons really,” she started. “A big reason is If she and I were together, I would only want to have her all to myself. Your mom isn’t like that. She needs to share her love with everyone she feels it for. She’d have to give that up just to appease my insecurities. Mikaila and Ginger wouldn’t be here to spend time with you or tell you fun stories.”

so why is G still here if she would be so abusive and controlling?

rest of the post is boring and not worth my time to review but seriously. why is this a pokemon story still, why is this G even with lily still after how controlling and obsessive she’s been in the past... typical questions that come up whenever new madhouse is posted.

and like. holy shit for a “damn good writer” lily cannot fucking seem to follow basic writing rules and/or basic grammar. even i know this shit, and i consider myself a writer that needs to improve. tons of basic tense shit that grammarly will hit you for, a fundemental lack of understanding on how fucking dialogue is formatted, and just massive paragraphs that need to be broken up so the reader can actually read the shit your posting.

merry christmas, i will be reviewing the next post as well.

#lily orchard #poke madhouse

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frobin · 4 years ago

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astolfobia

hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet

“I can totally understand the Jinbe/Robin ship, it does make sense. But...”

>> What... do you mean about not being sure if Zoro reacted correctly or not about Usopp?

Hey hey,

okay this has nothing to do with FRobin and is more about Zoro, Usopp and the crew dynamics but since you asked I decided to answer. And I try to make myself clear because it’s probably VERY, VERY, VERY subjective and also comes from my female and very European point of view.

I read the scene again (in german bc I don’t have the official translation at hand) but I also looked if kaizoku-ni-naru has it translated and here it is: https://kaizokuou-ni-naru.tumblr.com/post/190464807603/thank-you-so-much-for-your-wonderful-blog-im

Also many of it is from memory because of course I’m missing the volumes with the beginning of Water7 More behind the read more:

Let’s do a little recap:

Usopp left the crew. Why? Because to him it seemed like they were leaving Merry behind because the ship wasn’t strong enough anymore.

That might seem weird since Merry is just a ship right? But we know that Merry had a soul, that manifested in the Klabauter. Merry was part of the crew but as soon as she was too weak (Usopp did not know that Merry was beyond repair), as soon as there was something better, Merry was replaced.

That hit Usopp hard because Merry had not only been a present from his friend Kaya but this ship had been with them through so much and who knows how strong the bond between Usopp and the ship had really grown (he had been the one to see the Klabauter and the first to hear Merrys voice) so of course for him it felt like they were abandoning not only a ship, a thing, but a friend and even a crew mate. Now, Usopp has a lot of problems. He feels weak, especially compared to Luffy, Sanji (who is also the cook) and Zoro who are The Monster Trio for a reason. Nami is a Navigator and so essential to the crew. Chopper is a doctor (also essential) and a literal monster!

But all Usopp can do is shoot. He is probably going to be the best sharp-shooter in the world but he is not aware of that. Not back then and not now. Even after all the amazing things Usopp did in the recent arcs, he still considers himself weak.

His self-worth is low and he loathes himself, probably feels like he is worth nothing. The only thing that he is good for is keeping Merry afloat, a memento to his island where he was important. Maybe the only thing that keeps him afloat too.

So, the crew is willing to abandon Merry. Who tells that they won’t abandon him? Right after he lost a part of the money that was supposed to be used for Merry, right after he had to be saved by his crew, because he is weak!

And you can bet that Usopp has abandonment issues too. After all, his father left to have adventures. Usopp lost his mother to sickness when he was still a small child. The village was annoyed by the child that ran every morning along the road to shout “Pirates are coming!”. Not as a threat but because he hoped that it would be true, that his dad would come back for him one day. Instead he grew up alone until he found some kids that thought he was cool enough to be their leader. He somehow managed to befriend the sick girl, and told her lies, like he did for his mother. And then Kaya was willing to renounce, to abandon him for Kuro.

Merry is important and they want to leave Merry - him - behind.

Usopp was afraid, got angry and he attacked Luffy.

Was it smart? No. Was is it understandable? Yes. Could they have handled all that better? Fuck yes!

But they are both teens who are stubborn and hot headed and in a tough and loaded situation. So I understand why it happened.

And Usopp again is beaten, even with his smarts and his knowledge of Luffy’s weaknesses. He could not win. Because he is too weak. He lacks. He is not good enough. Luffy not only destroyed Usopp’s (already beaten) body, but also another part of his self worth.

(I’m not crying you’re crying!)

Then, we all know that Robin was caught, while Usopp fixed himself up and then later met Franky. It was only then that Usopp learned that the ship was beyond repair but also learned that Merry had a Klabauter. And then more shit happened. What we also know is that Usopp had a very, very large role in the rescue of Robin and that he was one of the people who talked sense into her. Without him they wouldn’t have saved Robin and Luffy might have given up. He pep-talked him to continue fighting.

(It’s still you who is crying! Shut up!)

Anyway, let’s get to Zoro telling the rest of the crew that they can only accept Usopp back when he apologizes. Which, let’s be honest, makes sense.

Usopp should apologize. Because he was in the wrong. But his decisions came from a very specific place.

So yeah, Zoro is right. But I get a bad feeling at the whole display of aggression and that Zoro expects Usopp to live up to his (Zoro’s) also very specific views and values of a warrior and the honor associated with it, without caring for Usopp’s. Again, a boy who grew up alone without any role model except that vague idea of an amazing pirate that was sailing the sea.

And the whole “Either it is like I say or I go!” stroke me as especially harsh.

Because I’ve been confronted with that sentiment so often, that I felt that deep in my bones. When I read it first, I didn’t even realise why that scene shook me. But it was that exact sentiment that poisoned my club and ultimately made me leave it, because I gave the ultimatum right back “You will go if things don’t go your way? Then go or I leave!” I’ve been part of that club since I had been seven years old. I left it with 25 because I had more balls than that fucking asshole and I’m still pissed about it, ten years later. And I’m very forgiving.

What Zoro said was that everyone has to know their place or they are no material to be a pirate (which is kind of weird since some people become pirates to be free, if you want to follow and know your place, maybe you should become a Marine). Ultimately you have to know whom to follow and that is - in this case - Luffy and no one else. You have to trust his judgement because he is the captain or else he is not much of a captain.

And again this can make sense because if you don’t trust your captain or know your place on a ship it can be a death sentence at sea.

Then there is this thing that this is ‘no playing pirate’.

We still don’t know all of Luffy’s reasons why he wants to be pirate king but he often hints that he just wants to be free and have fun with his friends. That sounds a lot like ‘playing games’. At that point he only slowly learns that being a pirate is often way more serious and dangerous and filled with tough decisions than he thought. Playing games and have fun, that is why he was so delighted when he heard that Usopp wanted to come back. But playtime is over that is why he agreed with Zoro. Time to grow up they are at war after all.

We know why Usopp left the crew, went against his captain and friend, because Usopp felt like they were abandoning ANOTHER FRIEND.

But whatever reason there MIGHT BE does not matter for Zoro. He even says he does not know why all of it happened, does not care who was wrong or right.

I think that is a dangerous sentiment! Because personally, I feel like it’s important to try to see outside of your own perspective and I think you should never judge before you know all the facts. If you then still come to the same conclusion that is fine and if you come to another that is good too.That is what it means to make an informed decision, because the world is not black and white. Many things have reasons that are so layered that you can’t just expect everyone to come to the same conclusion when they don’t have the same information. That is why communication is important.

Usopp waited for the very last moment to reach out to his friends. The longer he waited the longer he could imagine that everything would be fine in the end. He gave himself to that illusion. Zoro would have never done that and so no one else should do it. He is not exactly empathic. I feel like Zoro can’t look farther than his own ideas.

But I can agree with Zoro to some amount. I understand where he comes from.

Do I like it? Absolutely not.

So, to slowly come to an end, we all know how this went. And I have to give it to Zoro, he also did say “I hear nothing” whenever Usopp tried to handle the situation like nothing had happened. He wanted him back too, after all.

And shit, it worked. Usopp cried out to his friends, he apologized and Luffy reached out to him to reel him in.

But I can’t help but think that it absolutely destroyed Usopp after all. He saw his friends leaving him behind in a foreign city without any support. He just got a bounty and so would get in the focus of the marines, especially them thinking he is still part of the Strawhat crew.

The crew, his friends, would leave him because he is weak and not worth anything and he would have no friends and be alone forever.

I don’t even want to start to imagine the pure despair he felt that moment. And it stayed with him, as we learn in Thriller Bark. And again and again.

So yeah.

It worked in the end but I think it could have been handled better.

Well, that is easy to say as a grown up with some more years under my belt and from an outside perspective. But even back when I first read it, it gave me a strange feeling.

I think at least one of the crew should have talked to Usopp and given him some clues. And I’m sure Franky would have if he knew what was up but he hadn’t been part of the crew. Robin didn’t for whatever reason talk to Usopp, but she also never agreed with Zoro, looked almost angry about it. Nami also didn’t want to go against her captain, I guess. Sanji agreed with Zoro, maybe also with a bad feeling and Chopper is even less experienced than any other of them.

Oda is an amazing storyteller with a lot of characters that have an incredible amount of layers but that does not mean I agree with him all the time and so I don’t agree with his characters all the time.

And that is what I meant. XD Sorry for the long text.

#astolfobia #One Piece #analysis #not frobin #aks #text #long text #Zoro #Usopp #Pirate Hunter Zoro #god usopp #meta #my opinion #kon #personal #the things you read and how you interpret them is always influenced by your own experiences #1900 words #damn

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theincompetentgenius · 5 years ago

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Matchup

hiyaaa!! could i pls get a written matchup for ikesen, ikerev, & mlqc? 💞 bi but i prefer guys! i have an older twin sis~ 5'4 young girl~ medium-length straight-ish black hair & dark brown eyes. ambiverted INTP! hufflepuff/ravenclaw. fun-loving & friendly scorpio. if not given attention, i feel unwanted/sad. quiet w/ people im not close w/. easily annoyed but guilty after 'cause im soft-hearted. playful/serious, childish/mature, competative/laidback, funny/shy, talkative/good listener, loud/soft, kind/quiet, emotional/solemn, sweet/smart, bright/deep, poetic/intellectual, daydreamer/studious, annoying/lovable. hopeless romantic! sorta socially anxious, i have a fear of judgement. my personality is like half fun/happy and half deep/quiet- very awkward. i want to be the best! im not innocent but ppl think i am at first. its easy to make me smile & laugh but i also get jealous often. i have trouble asking for help even if i help others a lot! im the type to do fun stuff and loosen up, but im also the type to just cuddle and have long conversations about life and the world. emotionally mature but a bit emotionally unstable (mental health problems-) i look fine on the outside but on the inside its a MESS. im actually a complex person, and i rlly think a lot to myself. i feel rlly scared tho if im not completely sure if im correct abt smth, n i get rlly anxious when ppl r looking at me blankly w/ smiling- likes: diff kinds of jokes, testing myself, affection, animals, doing exhilirating things, music, movies, books, games, family, friends, astrology, astronomy, learning new things, & mythology. dislikes: too much heat, school presentations, creepy dolls, being under pressure, dirty things. i love weapons (esp swords n guns, i like magic too tho)!! i think they're super cool- omg im super srry cause i think this is too much- tysm anyway!! feel free to take your time (health comes first!) n have a great year! 💞

Aww, thank u so much! This was submitted to me quite a while back and I’m really sorry for the major delay. However, I’ve finally gotten to this. Hope you still enjoy it :)

Ikemen Sengoku

I’d pair you with.................. Hideyoshi Toyotomi!

Honestly, I was having difficult picking just one person since you have such a complex personality (don’t worry, this is a good thing). For a while, I was leaning towards Mitsuhide at first because your personality would’ve made the perfect MC for his route. You’re sweet enough to get him to open up, but not a complete ditz. He’d love to learn all the different sides of your personality, falling for every single piece. After all, there’s no puzzle that he can’t solve.

However, I’m gonna go with Hideyoshi on this one. His simple attitude would best compliment all your different traits, creating the perfect balance. Whenever he’s being hard-headed, your multi-dimensional personality will provide him with another side that he hadn’t considered.

Don’t want to ask for help? Not a problem because Hideyoshi is going to help you anyways (whether you want or not). He’ll be at your side all day, making sure that even the smallest of tasks have dealt with. Once your work is done, he’ll linger around for a little bit, waiting for that last good-bye kiss.

You manage to pull him out of his comfort zone, going on small adventures together! He’s not the biggest fan of them, but he always tags along to make sure you’re alright. His favorite adventures are when you two go into the forests, observing all the different animals. There’s nothing like seeing the sweet smile on your face to brighten up his day.

The day always ends with the two of you heading back to his room, laying on his bed, and looking at all the cool stuff that you found. He’ll have his arms wrapped around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head, listening to you rave about the adventure. But when you remind him that there’s no place that you’d rather be than in his arms, Hideyoshi can’t help but turn into a puddle. It’s just a night of cuddles and endless affection.

Hideyoshi is also the best person to go to when you’re feeling like a complete mess. Even if he’s busy, he’ll always put time aside to comfort you. If you’re feeling scared or unsure, the warlord will stroke your hair and remind you about all the times that you’ve been right (and all the things you’ve accomplished because of that). Even if things go awry, he’ll always be there to hold your hand for comfort’s sake. After all, you’ve guided him through his messes, so now it’s his turn to repay the favor.

Another Possibility: Mitsuhide Akechi

Ikemen Revolution

I’d pair you with............... Ray Blackwell!

So there’s not a lot of leeway here since your description really just screamed “RAY” to me. However, I feel like I could throw you at Blanc! He’d do his best to make you feel welcome in the Cradle and slowly crack through your quiet demeanor. Once he learns what’s inside, bunny boy is absolutely charmed! It’s hard for him to stay away, especially since he just gravitates towards your cheery energy. Nevertheless, the Black Army King won over in the end.

When Ray first meets you, he appreciates your quiet side. Not too noisy or annoying, unlike certain members in the Black Army. Besides, you seem to have your head screwed on straight, so he won’t have to worry too much about you getting into endless trouble. Your maturity throughout the entire situation will only garner his respect.

When Fenrir cracks a crude joke and you stifle your laughter, Ray raises an eyebrow. There’s definitely more to you than meets the eye and he’s interested in what exactly hides behind your quiet exterior. While he may not go out of his way to search for it, Ray takes mental notes when you do something that pleasantly surprises him.

Bookworm buddies!! Every now and then, you two engage in a reading competition: who can read the most books throughout the week? For the prize, the loser has to listen to the winner’s commands for an entire day. While the winning party varies, it’s always a close call.

Ray is always teasing you for being a hopeless romantic. However, that’s just his way of hiding how he thinks that your mentality towards love is adorable. If he’s completely honest, you remind him of the main heroine in most romance novels. Does that mean he’s willing to be your love interest? Why don’t you ask him and find out ;)

Ray notices the twinkle in your eyes when you watch him practice with his sword. When you ask him about it, he’ll happily show you all the types of swords and guns that are used in the Black Army. He even gives you confidential information about the latest gun prototypes. At one point, he’ll even gift you with the weapon of your choice (you can customize it however you want). Whether you choose to use it is up to you (but little tip here: Ray finds it hot when you carry it around on your belt).

Another Possibility: Blanc Lapin

MLQC

I’d pair you with............ Victor!

Before I unveil first place over here, I think you and Kiro would also have amazing chemistry too! You two would mesh so well together, being the biggest balls of sunshine. When you’re feeling down, you can always expect his teddy-bear smile to cheer you up in an instance. It gives me such “wholesome couple vibes” that I’m not even sure how to put it into words.

So you must be wondering, “Why Victor?” It’s because our loveable grump needs some sunshine of his own (a ray of sunshine that he won’t throw out the window or chastise to death). From the beginning, Victor takes a liking towards you. You’re mature, dependable, and want the best for the company. Even if you’re not directly involved, he appreciates your efforts towards becoming the best. There’s something about you that makes him want to root for you.

And so he does, pouring a decent amount of money into your dreams. However, Victor will constantly watch you from the side (after all, he’s gotta see how his investment is being used). This may cause you some discomfort, but he’s doing it to make sure that you get to the top of your dreams.

When you’re feeling unsure of yourself, Victor will give you the guidance that you need. He’ll try his best to give his input on the situation, making sure that it gets you closer and closer to the answers that you need. Once you manage to pull everything together, he can’t help but feel a little tug on his chest. It’s a combination of both pride and something a little sweeter.

Victor also finds your multi-faceted personality quite impressive. It’s amazing how you can show a range of emotions and feelings, especially when you’re dealing with different types of people. He doesn’t have such a range of emotions, so he tries to pick up on a few of your traits. It doesn’t always work, but you always get a good laugh out of it.

Whenever Victor has had a long day at work, the two of you lay on the grass and watch the night sky. There’s something about the stars that calms him and he wouldn’t have known it if he never met you. So he’ll always be grateful for the peace that you’ve given him.

Another Possibility: Kiro

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nothing-stupid-buck · 5 years ago

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Band Of Brothers Character Guide

Band Of Brothers CHARACTER GUIDE

To All You New BoB Watchers Out There...

First of all, WELCOME. We are happy to have you as part of Easy Company.

When I first watched the series, I had a lot of difficulty keeping track of who was who and it made it hard to follow the storyline until the 3rd or 4th round watching it through... so I thought I’d make a bit of a guide for those who have had the same struggle.

(Keep in mind, you may want to read this after you’ve watched it at least once, as many of the characters’ significant plot lines are outlined in spoilers.)

Throughout the series there are different episodes based around different characters’ points of view. As you watch each episode you learn more characters but because it is so accurately portrayed, they had to include as many of the characters as possible so each of them get a little bit of their story shown.

I myself have watched the series over 10 times and still pick up on things each time I watch it. It’s not a series to be watched once if you want to enjoy it to its full extent and understand it thoroughly (which I highly recommend because it is such a great series anyway).

Here is a list of some significant traits about most of the main characters (WARNING: Spoilers May Be Present Ahead):

Major Richard Winters: leader of Easy from D-Day, assumed main character, episodes 1, 2, 5, 10 bases around him.

Captain Lewis Nixon: Winters’ best friend, shortly promoted to an intelligence officer after enlisting (as seen in the first episode), often sarcastic, an alcoholic and loves Vat 69, episode 9 is based around him.

Lieutenant Harry Welsh: platoon leader and officer, replaces Nixon in easy Company in the first episode, noticeable tooth gap, is saving his reserve chute to bring home to his fiancé Kitty (SPOILER: hit by shrapnel in Bastogne at the end of episode 6)

Lieutenant Lynn “Buck” Compton: platoon leader, white blonde hair, first appearance near the end of the first episode, is known to see himself amongst the men rather than as a superior (SPOILER: shot in the behind during the holland campaign, is evacuated after seeing Toye and guarnere lose their legs and suffers battle fatigue, returns in episode 10)

Captain Ronald Speirs: starts off in D company, basically takes the fourth gun by himself on D-Day, rumoured to have shot POW’s on D-Day (although never confirmed), (SPOILER: takes over as the leader of Easy Company in episode 7)

Lieutenant C. Carwood Lipton: can be seen shooting from tree on D-Day, goes out of his way to look after the men, episode 7 is based around him. (SPOILER: gets hit by shrapnel in Carentan in episode 3, becomes the Company first sergeant shortly after, gets promoted to lieutenant at the end of episode 7)

Sergeant Don Malarkey: Sobel calls him ‘Private bulls*it’ in the first episode. Notably said, ‘really? It’s hot in Africa?’ In the first episode while on the boat to England. Runs through an open field on d-day to get what he thinks is a Luger, but he is wrong. Makes friends with a german POW in episode 1 after he discovers they came from the same state back home. (SPOILERS: loses his best friends Muck and Penkala in episode 7 after they are blown up together in their foxhole, is clearly suffering from battle fatigue in episode 8.)

Sergeant Bill Guarnere: discovers his brother has been killed in action a day or two before D-Day, shoots Germans before winters’ command on D-Day, nickname is Gonorrhoea, has a fantastically shaped jawline (literally cracks me up every time he looks around a corner or something) (SPOILERS: tries to drag Joe Toye back to a foxhole during an artillery barrage in episode 7 and gets his right leg blown to bits, remains best friends with babe Heffron until the end of his life)

Corporal George Luz: impersonates Major Horton during training while Sobel is lost, which then results in Sobel cutting a barbed wire fence, often seen imitating either superiors or other easy men, most notably dike and sink, best friends with Perconte, (SPOILERS: never gets hit)

Corporal Eugene “Doc” Roe: called Doc by almost all of the men, heroic medic of the company, episode 6 is based around him, always seen rushing around to help soldiers who have been wounded.

Sergeant Joe Toye: lists everything he has to carry whilst preparing his gear for D-Day, has two grenades go off next to him on d-day but doesn’t get hurt (notably says: Jesus Christ, f*cking twice), (SPOILERS: is in the aid station probably more times than any other easy man as he manages to get hit in just about every battle, gets his right leg completely blown off during an artillery barrage in episode 7)

Corporal Frank Perconte: literally never stops brushing his teeth, quite a bit smaller than most of the others, best friends with Luz, (SPOILERS: gets shot in the behind during the attack on Foy in episode 7, is seen being carried away by Bull Randleman, returns very shortly afterwards)

Sergeant Floyd Talbert: often called ‘Tab’ is seen with a dog in the beginning of episode 5, (SPOILERS: in episode 3 he is stabbed by Smith for waking him up dressed in a german poncho, but recovers, and Gordon writes a poem about the incident, resigns as company first sergeant in episode 10 as he wanted to be back amongst the men)

Private David Webster: episode 8 is based around him, (SPOILERS: gets shot in the leg in Holland in episode 5, and missed the Bastogne campaign, earning resentment from a lot of the men as seen in episode 8)

Corporal Joseph Liebgott: it’s established that Liebgott is Jewish pretty early in the series (he gets into a brawl with guarnere on the boat to England in episode 1) which becomes important later, has a stronger hatred for the Germans than a lot of the other men, (SPOILERS: translates at the Jewish camp, and is seen crying after having to tell the prisoners they are to be locked up again so they can be monitored)

Sergeant Warren “Skip” Muck: best friends with malarkey and penkala, and usually seen beside them, is notably eating ‘kraut cheese’ from a tube in episode 3, and then proceeds to describe the rumours about Speirs to the men, sings a song about having enough socks in episode 5, one of the main jokesters in the group (SPOILER: is blown up and killed in his foxhole with penkala during an artillery barrage in episode 7)

Private Alex Penkala: usually seen besides malarkey or skip Muck, also a jokester, (SPOILERS: gets shrapnel in his arm in episode 6, is blown up and killed in his foxhole with Muck during an artillery barrage in episode 7)

Private Edward “Babe” Heffron: replacement and debut episode is episode 3, almost immediately taken under guarneres wing, (SPOILERS: loses his friend Julian in episode 6 after not being able to get to him through german Fire, and is forced to watch him die, remains best friends with guarnere for the rest of his life after the war)

Private Albert Blithe: episode 3 is based around him, can be seen terrified in his foxhole during the battle of the bloody gulch in episode 3, suffers hysterical blindness, (SPOILERS: is shot in the neck on a patrol at the end of episode 3, and the show incorrectly states the year of his death, he recovered from his neck wounds but died around 20 years later)

Sergeant Denver “Bull” Randleman: can been seen chewing tobacco often, close friends with Martin, speaks up about Sobel hating easy Company during the march in episode 1, to which winters jokes that Sobel just hates bull, episode 4 is based around him, is seen looking after the replacements when some of the other men turn a blind eye, notably bigger than a lot of the other men in the company (SPOILERS: gets a piece of shrapnel to the shoulder and also gets lost in episode 4)

Sergeant Johnny Martin: is the one who receives the letter about guarnere’s brother being killed in episode 1 and purposely swaps their jackets so guarnere will see the letter, is often called ‘Pee Wee’, close friends with Bull Randleman, spots a tank and tells a British soldier in episode 4, leads a patrol in episode 8, often appears annoyed or serious

Corporal Walter “Smokey” Gordon: wrote ‘the night of the bayonet’ about the incident between talbert and Smith, has multiple Purple Hearts, always on a machine gun, (SPOILERS: is shot in the arm in episode 6 and is paralysed)

Other Characters (brief significant traits)

CONTAINS SPOILERS:

Sergeant Darrel “Shifty” Powers: best shot in the company, never misses

Sergeant Robert “Popeye” Wynn: shot in the behind on D-Day, returns shortly after for holland campaign

Sergeant Wayne “Skinny” Sisk: is seen with multiple wood chunks stuck in his leg in episode 6, notably says ‘Im real sorry frank’ to Perconte after Perconte tells him he got blood on his trousers

Private Alton More: takes the photo album from the eagles nest

Sergeant James Alley: is hit by a grenade and is seen being carried in covered in blood and badly injured at the beginning of episode 5

Sergeant Chuck Grant: shot in the head in episode 10 by another American officer

Colonel Robert Sink: commander of the 506th infantry regiment

Sergeant Pat Christenson: drinks from his canteen on the Friday night march in episode 1 and is forced to repeat the march with no water, usually operating a machine gun

Corporal Joseph Ramirez: knocks down a fence after trying to jump over it in episode 3

Private Roy Cobb: shot in the plane on D-Day, is outwardly hostile to the new replacements, is rude to his superiors while intoxicated in episode 8

Corporal Donald Hoobler: often mentions how he wants to find a Luger to take home, when he gets one in episode 7 he leaves it in his pants and it accidentally fires and hits the main artery in his leg, killing him very quickly

Private Lester Hashey: a replacement in episode 3, best friends with Garcia, gets shot in the arm in episode 7 during the artillery barrage

Private Tony Garcia: best friends with Hashey, replacement at the end of episode 3

Lieutenant Norman Dike: also known as ‘foxhole norman’, takes over easy Company after moose heyliger is accidentally shot by a fellow American soldier, notably useless and makes no decisions, disliked by most of the men, and poorly leads easy Company during the battle at foy, but is relieved by Speirs before the battle is over

SIDE NOTE: some of the ranks may be incorrect or outdated, and I do apologise, I either could not find the correct rank or have remembered it incorrectly.

#band of brothers #bandofbrothers #hbo #hbowar #war #wwii #characters #character guide

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dean-the-smol-bean · 5 years ago

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The Fall (62 Minutes Pt. 10 RE-UPLOAD)

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Best Friend!Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Ruby, Reader

Word count: 6k

Summary: deans back from the grave, and he has unfinished business with you.

Warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, mentions of death, mentions of alcoholism, guns, ptsd

A/N: I have to reupload this because after tumblrs adult content sweep they flagged it as adult content, which is fun. They got a bunch of my fics that had gifs in them, and now I can’t even see some of them even though it says its “only viewable to me” which is just dandy, but im gonna try and get them back and re-upload them too. I have every chapter of 62 minutes in a folder on my computer though so thankfully I had this- thank GOD, it’s not like it’s the most pivotal chapter in the fic so far. It’s fine. I’m not annoyed. everything is fine.

anyways the chapter is inspired by the song “the fall” by imagine dragons except when they’re fucking in which case I think it goes with take me to church by hozier? idk. it’s been like a year.

Have a Request? Message me! I want to get back into writing and requests would be an amazing help.

Send me a message if you would like to be tagged in future parts!

“Miss me, sweetheart?”

He smiled down at you sheepishly, as if he’d showed up late after a night out. As if this was normal. For a moment, you froze, unable to register what was in front of you.

And then everything clicked into place, and you stumbled back to your feet, pushing yourself up using the back of the couch next to you and grabbing your gun.

You lifted it up, having to use two hands just to keep it steady between your shaking limbs.

Deans eyes widened, staggering backward. He raised his hands, trying to show you he meant no harm. Bobby had been right- maybe dropping in with no warning on the woman who allegedly hadn’t spoken in four months because of his death wasn’t the greatest idea.

“Y/N-”

“How dare you.” Your voice shook, but it wasn’t from tears (not yet anyway), it was from rage.

“How dare you- you shifter- demon- zombie- bastard-”

“Y/N, please-”

“NO! No. Don’t. Don’t you dare. How dare you even think of taking his image- of parading around in his skin- how dare-”

“Y/N, honey, just listen for a second-”

“Don’t honey me! You don’t get to call me that you- you… you aren’t him. He’s dead, okay, he’s gone- and- and I’m not gonna let you convince me otherwise. No one can. I- I can’t- I can’t let myself think for even a second that you might be-”

You choked off, swallowing. Dean watched you with crestfallen eyes, desperate to scoop you up and take you into his arms.

“Because- because if I do, and then you’re not- I don’t know if I could survive that.”

Your voice broke, and it was no longer from rage. The crack was deep and sharp in your words; the kind of sound you only hear just before someone is about to break completely. Like the first, tiny crack before a dam bursts.

And so it did. The tears came hot and quick, flooding down your cheeks. You were barely keeping up your gun, your arms weak as you tried to mask the fact that your legs felt like jelly.

Dean swallowed, trying to keep himself from sweeping you into a bone crushing hug, inevitably getting himself shot in the process. He began in a whisper, low and calm, trying to comfort you despite the gun pointed (albeit weakly) at his face.

“Y/N, listen to me, for a second, okay? It’s gonna be alright. I’m not a Demon or a shifter, or a zombie. I promise. Look, let me prove it to you, hold on”

He lowered his arm, reaching to the back of his waistband.

“I’m gonna grab my silver knife, okay? Look.” He pulled it out. “See? You know this knife. I’ve had it since I was seventeen. Pure silver. You’ve seen it a million times. Look, Y/N.”

You watched, terrified, as he rolled back his flannel sleeve, revealing his taut forearm. He clenched his fist pressing the knife into his skin. You held your breath, waiting for the steam.

He slid it across his skin, and blood dripped around the edges of his blade, dripping down his arm and onto the floor. It was a small cut really, just a few drops, but enough to show that he wasn’t a shapeshifter.

“See? No sting.” He raised his eyebrows and you. You said nothing.

“Where’s your holy water?”

You shifted back and forth on your feet, unable to force any words through your throat. You nodded feebly to the counter to his left, a flask buried under a stack of ramen packets.

He brushed them off, picking up the flask and opening it. He held eye contact, raising it to you as if in cheers.

“All me.”

He took a gulp.

A sob slipped from your lips, and everything just fell apart. Your knees gave, and you nearly dropped to the floor, caught just before you hit the ground, strong arms encircling you like a safety net, dropping down with you so the both of you kneeled to the floor safely, his arms tighter than they’d ever felt before. The gun fell with a clang, but you both ignored it, wrapping your arms around his neck and gripping his jacket, burying yourself in him.

And then you sobbed. Heavy and loud, tears streaking into the soft, warm, living skin where his neck and shoulder met.

Finally, when the sobs subsided, your hiccupping slowing to a minimum of once or twice every few minutes, you spoke, voice still raspy.

“How?”

Dean pulled back a little so that he could get a good look at you, shaking his head.

“I… have no idea. I just woke up in my grave, and... now I’m here. Good as new.” He paused, pursing his lips in thought.

“I take it from everything that just happened, you weren’t the one who got me out.”

“No.”

He glanced away, thinking. You were both still pressed firmly against each other, kneeling on the living room floor, wrapped around each other.

“Okay, okay good.” He leaned forward, kissing you on the forehead, a wave of relief rushing over him.

“Good.”

For a minute, you both just sat there holding onto each other silently, not doing anything, just relishing in the feeling that you were both there.

Suddenly, Dean spoke up.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You quirked your head up to look at him.

“Hm?”

“There’s something I need to do. That I didn’t get to.”

You furrowed your brow, confused, ready to force yourself to stand, to tear yourself away from him.

“What’s that?”

He paused, eyes roaming over your face frantically, taking in every detail, convincing himself it was real. Convincing himself he was really about to do what he thought he was.

“This,”

And then his lips were on yours. And it was more than anything either of you could have possibly conjured up in your feeble imaginations, fantasizing about one another in dingy motel rooms when you had nothing better to do.

You were soft, so impossibly soft and sweet. Like honey and lavender and chocolate and all the sweetest things together wrapped up in a little present just for him.

He was soft too, oh so surprisingly soft. Your lips moved against his perfectly- it wasn’t magic, no. It was a kiss. But it was a kiss waited for, for over fifteen years. It was a kiss long since imagined by both participants. It was a kiss between two people that were so desperately in need of each other and in love with each other that even though it wasn’t magic, no force in the world could ever tear them apart.

But finally, when they did part, it was of their own will. Dazed and a little bit bruised in the lips- which were pink and plump and absolutely distracting had it not been for the fact the both of you were struggling to get your eyes open.

“God, I really wish I’d done that a long time ago.” He breathed, barely able to keep himself together.

“Mm-hm. No more wasting time,” you nodded, pulling his lips back to yours, cupping his cheeks. He grinned into your mouth, breathy laugh muffled by his lips molding into yours.

Without really thinking, he stood, pulling you to your feet with him, somehow managing to keep your lips interlocked as he did. You took one, maybe two steps back, and the next thing you knew, you were tumbling down, bum pressed against the arm of the sofa. Dean, lost in your lips, plummeted down with you. You froze, the both of you stuck between each other, deans entire body pressed up against you, his elbows the only thing keeping him from crushing you completely, lost in each other’s eyes.

And then you laughed. Wholehearted and light, and just as he did in the fall, Dean followed after you. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed this hard- or at all, really.

God his laugh was gorgeous. Full and hearty, his eyes crinkling up in the corners, head thrown back (quite awkwardly in the position he was in), shaking with joy.

As the laughter drifted out of you, slowly dissipating into the quiet of the cold, winter cabin, so did the realization that you were here, in his grasp, right in front of him, drift over the both of you.

He repositioned himself, bringing his hand- rough and calloused- to the side of your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

“God I missed you.” He breathed.

You swallowed, the revelation of the person you love being alive and well, right in front of- or rather- on top of you, sending your heart racing.

He leaned down, pressing his lips back into yours, sweet and slow this time, but somehow all the more passionate. You raised your arms, carding your hands through his hair, tugging softly on the silky strands.

“Dean,” you panted, barely able to speak between kisses, desperate to keep your lips close to his.

“Need to feel you. Need you. All of you.”

He grunted a little as if trying to hold something back.

“I know. Me too.” He whispered, his voice muffled between your lips.

It was more than just sex. More than just a need for something you’ve wanted since you were fifteen. It was the need to be able to feel one another, completely. To be able to know that you were both there, standing next to each other. Safe. Sound. Whole.

Finally, he pulled back, and you whined, But he pulled you up with him, standing on your feet for only a second, before his strong arms slid down your form, sweeping you off of them. You didn’t think, you just moved, connecting your lips with his and clutching him closely, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You felt as he made his way towards the stairs, and you separated your lips from his so he could see. Instead, you made your way down, kissing and sucking every square inch you could get your lips on and before you knew it, he was laying you down on your bed upstairs.

He followed your lead, kissing down your neck, slow and easy, taking his time.

His hand wandered, eventually finding their way under your shirt, trailing up your stomach and your sides. You were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were wearing almost nothing. That your heart was beating harder and faster than you ever thought possible. That this was actually happening.

He pushed up your shirt, nearly above your breast before you blushed, tensing up involuntarily.

He stopped, pulling away immediately, sensing your discomfort.

“Hey,” he exhaled, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

“Is something wrong? Because we can stop if you don’t-”

“No, no I do,” you assured, lifting your hand and resting it on his neck, playing with the hairs at the base of his head.

“It’s just I… I don’t know, you’re so- and I’ve wanted this for so long- but what if I’m not-”

What if you weren’t good enough? Pretty enough? Skilled enough? Dean Winchester had been with a lot of women in his life- a lot of gorgeous ones at that, and none of them ever left unsatisfied. Most times neither did he. What if you couldn’t compare? What if he sees you and decides to change his mind?

He cuts you off.

“Honey,” he sighs. “You are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. No one could even compare.”

It was like he read your mind. You searched his eyes, desperate to find some sign that he was lying, that this was some joke- because it had to be- and you’d rather figure that out now before you got even more attached.

But there was nothing.

Your body relaxed a bit, and he smiled.

“Ready?” he asked, and you bit your lip, nodding.

He moved his hand, palm pressed lightly against your abdomen, sliding across your skin softly. He pulled at the hem of your- well, his- shirt, and you pushed yourself up so that he could lift it off of you.

Before you could even think to be self-conscious, his pupils dilated, sucking in a breath of air.

“Fucking gorgeous,”

His eyes raked over you, and even though you had yet to take off your panties, you’d never felt so naked. His gaze was indescribable, but in that little room, just for a moment, you felt as beautiful as he saw you.

His lips dropped to your skin, pressing softly between the valley of your breasts. Then, they latched around your nipple, sucking softly and nipping ever so gently with his teeth. You shuddered, arching your back slightly as he brought his left hand up to tend to your other breast. He twisted the nub between your fingers, heat pooling between your legs.

He stayed there for a while, switching between each breast, making sure to give them equal attention.

Finally, he continued down, leaving wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach.

Before you knew it, he was kneeling at the end of the bed, your legs hanging on either side of his head.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows so that you could look at him, and he watched you intently, reaching behind himself and shucking off his t-shirt.

"Oh my god, Dean, what's that?"

You practically jumped up, straightening up, forgetting completely that you were nearly naked, and that Dean Winchester was between your legs.

"What- oh. That." he glanced at his shoulder, and you frowned.

"Yes, that! Are you okay, what the hell is-"

"It's alright, beautiful, I promise. It was there when I... 'woke up'. I'm okay, really. It doesn't hurt." he assured. You stared at it, in awe.

Slowly, you leaned forward pressing a kiss in its center.

You leaned back, and he smiled at you.

"All better." he breathed, and you rolled your eyes, falling back on your elbows.

He held your gaze, pulling you forward, lifting your legs so your thighs rested on his shoulders, and then he dipped his mouth.

He didn’t go straight in like you imagined, even over your panties. No, instead. He pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh, just shy of your now soaking heat.

“Christ,” you sighed, letting your head fall back against the soft pillows of your bed.

After quite a bit of kissing, nipping and sucking between your legs- once you were sure you had more than one bruise down there- he pressed his mouth against your panties. You shuddered, his mouth closing slowly in an open mouth kiss.

He started at the top, pecking down your panties, which somehow felt both way too thick and impossibly thin at the same exact time.

Just as you were about ready to beg, you felt him hook his thumbs in the waistband of said detestable underwear. You lifted your hips as he pulled them down, slowly kissing each inch of skin as he passed it by.

You leaned up, trying to get a good look at him, but it didn’t last long, because he was back between your legs, and just as soon as you lifted your head, he locked eyes with you, stretched out his tongue, and slid it up your pussy in one long, perfect swipe. You fell back against the bed once more

Meanwhile, Dean- who was thoroughly enjoying himself between your legs- couldn’t think of a better moment in his entire life.

God you tasted good. No girl he’d ever been with had tasted this good. He looked up, sliding his tongue in delicate circles around your clit, watching as you arched against him, hands dropping down and raking through his hair.

And fuck, you were gorgeous. Your skin was so soft and creamy, every curve and edge of you perfect, just waiting to be grabbed, and kissed, and admired.

You moaned, and he nearly lost it. His pants were tight, strained uncomfortably against the tent pressing at the front of them, and he was sure he was already hard enough to cut glass. But he didn’t care because all he wanted to do was taste you. Dip his tongue in your waters and drown in them.

You were a fucking goddess. He was sure of it. There was no other explanation- you were a goddess, and your body was the temple in which you resided. He sat on his knees in front of you, desperate to worship.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, and you whimpered, yanking his face even closer to you.

He moaned, sliding his tongue into you as deeply as he was able. You moaned too, high pitched and strained, and you writhed so much under him that he had to place a hand on your stomach to keep you steady.

The other hand, however, was free. So with nimble fingers, he slipped two of them into you, pumping them in and out, moving your tongue back over your clit and alternating between flicking and circling it. It took him a bit of exploring, watching you intently, but he finally brushed up one little part of you, bumpy and ridged under his fingers. You cried out, loud and raspy, your back arching involuntarily.

“Oh god-”

He grinned, and he curled his fingers, pulling them towards himself in a ‘come here’ motion, each time brushing against that one spot, causing you to go insane, his tongue still working mercilessly.

“Yes, god, yes. Right there, don’t stop, oh fuck- Dean-” he reached up and removed a hand from his hair, bringing it to your hip, intertwining his fingers with yours. You gripped him something fierce, fingers nearly turning white, and he stared up at you, sultry, his own fingers still pumping in and out.

“Yes, yes, Dean. Fuck, Dean- Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean-” you kept going until his name was the only thing you knew. Nothing else could get in or out of your mind other than him, and his hands, and his tongue, and his lips, and fuck- just him.

You cried his name one last time as the coil in your stomach snapped, your walls clenching around his fingers. He moaned into you, but it was drowned out by the sound of you screaming his name, though he couldn’t complain in the slightest.

When you finally came back to earth, sweaty and panting, you realized he was kissing his way back up to your stomach.

His lips closed around yours, and you sighed, and you could taste yourself on his lips- it wasn't something that had ever particularly got you going but, god, you swear- Dean could do just about anything and you’d melt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed, breathing the words into your lips between kisses as if trying to breathe the idea down your throat.

“I love you,”

When you could finally think in full sentences again, you responded by pushing at his shoulder, signaling for him to roll over. He did, flopping onto his back next to you. You rolled on top of him, leaning down and kissing his neck. You took your time, tasting him, leaving marks- you wanted the whole wide world to know he was yours, and you were his.

You reached down, fumbling with his belt a bit before sliding it out of its loops, tossing it to the side. You unbuttoned his pants with little effort, barely sliding them down before reaching in, grabbing his member and pulling it out, rock hard in your palm.

You didn’t see it because your lips were still entranced by his neck, but you could feel him, and god- he was huge. You didn’t need to see him to know that he was the biggest you’d ever been with- eight inches at the least.

You ran your thumb over his tip, catching a bit of precum that had developed. He shuddered, biting his lip in an attempt to control his moan.

Continuing your movements, you began to make your way down his chest, kissing every inch you could, just like he had done to you, desperate to taste every inch of him.

You didn’t get very far before he reached down, grabbing your chin with his hand and pulling you back up to his face, capturing your lips in his for a chaste kiss.

“Not now, beautiful. I need you- need to be in you,” You nodded, and he rolled the both of you back over, so that you were lying on your back below him. He pushed himself up, hopping off the bed, standing at the end of it.

You watched as he moved, hooking his fingers into the waist of his briefs and his jeans, sliding them off all in one. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed- the man was a fucking Greek god. His stomach, strong and toned, accompanied by hefty, muscled arms am shoulders, dusted with freckles, strong bowlegs and thick, sturdy thighs that drove you insane.

And god, was he big. It was one thing to feel it, but now that you were really looking at it- it was no wonder so many women left him feeling dazed and confused- with a package like that, and skills as fine as his- you were a goner.

He hopped back on the bed, crawling towards you, kissing all the way up from your feet to your lips.

You slid your hands up to his neck, letting your legs fall open, and he reached under you, hand gripping your waist like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth.

“You sure?” he asked, and you almost laughed. You’d been waiting for this your whole life, he had too, and still, he cared about nothing more than your comfort.

You leaned up to him, kissing him softly, sweet and slow, trying to pour everything you felt out through it.

“More than I've ever, been” you breathed, and with that, he pressed himself into you, taking it slow, aware of how big he was.

Inch by inch he sheathed himself into you, brow knit together, mouth hung ever so slightly agape. You looked similar, your neck craned back, pressed against the mattress.

Finally, his hips were pressed flat against yours, feeling fuller than you ever had.

You whimpered, gripping his back tightly, nails digging into his shoulders, head buried in the crook of his neck.

He let out a groan.

“You good, babygirl?”

You nodded, voice a bit strained.

“Y-yeah. Just gimme a s-second.”

He paused, unmoving, making sure his hips went nowhere, but kissing up and down your neck and your chest sporadically.

There were a few moments where pain twinged, your walls not used to being pushed so far, but it didn’t take long to surpass, adjusting to his size, and when you did, you sighed, letting your head fall back against the pillows.

You pulled his face down to you, kissing him fervidly.

“Make love to me, Dean Winchester.”

He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. Before you knew it, he was moving, your body already arching against him.

He pulled out of you almost completely, before thrusting back in, causing both of you to let out a long moan. He continued, thrusting his hips slowly, in and out.

It took him no time at all to find that spot again, and when he did, you screamed, digging your nails into your shoulders so deep you thought you might just break skin.

He took note and made sure to pound into that spot exactly, over and over, mercilessly.

He slid his hand down between you, reaching for your clit and rubbing in quick circles, causing you to cry out even more. You felt the coil winding up in your stomach, getting ready to burst once again, and just as you were about to reach your breaking point, you shoved him over, rolling the two of you into opposite positions.

He stared up at you for a moment, wide eyed and surprised, and you tossed your hair to the side, panting, still sheathed around him.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that kid?”

He slid his hands into yours, tangling your fingers together, pulling you down to his lips so that he could kiss you again- he hadn’t done it nearly enough, not yet, not ever.

Leaning back up, you ran your hands through your hair, keeping it from your face. Separating your hands from his, you planted your palms firmly on his chest, arching your back, closing your eyes as his cock swiveled in you, brushing hard up against your g-spot. Your mouth hung open, past the point of even moaning. If you hadn’t been dizzy with pleasure, you would’ve noticed Dean gaping up at you, practically drooling.

“Fuck,” you said it at the same time- his, a breathy groan, unable to contain his awe for you and how fucking gorgeous you were. Yours, high and strained, unsure of how much longer you’d last if not even moving drove you this insane.

But then you did, and you through your head back, brow furrowed, eyes screwed shut, the both of you groaning obscenely. You bounced on top of him and he watched hungrily, eyes and hands roaming over every inch of you, grasping at your sides, pushing himself up into you as you moved.

And then you stopped bouncing, but you kept moving. You twisted your hips, swiveling them in circles.

And then he let out an unfamiliar sound- weak and breathy, like a whimper, nothing like any sound he’d ever made before- but holy fuck that was good.

He couldn’t take it anymore because he needed to touch you, every single inch- so he pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his chest against yours.

He thrust his hips, sliding up and down as he pushed himself upwards and into you. You kissed him, heavy and wet, lost in the feeling of your him inside you. But then he brushed up against your g-spot again, and you cried out, leaning down and biting onto his shoulder, raking your hands down his back, surely leaving marks.

“Fucking hell. Love you so much. So much, Y/N.”

he panted, pulling you back and into his lips, kissing you, slow and sultry.

You whined, barely squeaking out anything, stuttering each time he thrust into you.

The coil wound itself up a third time, and this time you were sure you couldn’t contain it. You bit down onto him again, clutching the strong muscles of his back as the earthquake approached.

“Dean, I’m so-”

“I know babygirl. Go ahead. I’m right behind you.” He panted, voice nearly as strained as yours.

And as if on command, you did, screaming his name into his freckled shoulder, entire body shaking, pussy gripping his cock, throbbing around him.

“Oh, fuck,” he bleated, his voice wavering.

Just as you began to come down, you felt his hips stutter, pistoning in and out of you erratically, and you could tell he was close. You kissed the bite mark on his shoulder, and he slid his hands up your back, holding onto you for dear life. He was moaning and groaning and whimpering all at once, generally making the sorts of sounds you’d only ever dreamed of hearing.

Finally, he grunted, letting out a long, low groan, and you felt him spill himself inside of you. You swiveled your hips on top of him, working him through his orgasm.

He lifted his head up, slightly dazed, and he rested his forehead against yours, breaths mingling as you panted, trying to pull yourselves together.

Finally, your lips met, barely touching, barely moving, just feeling each other.

You stayed like that for a while, just kissing and touching and sighing. You were wrapped around each other, pressed up against one another as close as physically possible, your head buried in his neck. He peppered kisses across your shoulder, hands rubbing up and down your back. Suddenly, without warning, you began shaking. He heard you whimper into his skin, the feeling of warm tears dripping onto his exhausted muscles.

“Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong? Look at me honey, come here-” he pulled your face to his, cupping your cheek and resting his forehead against yours.

You covered your face, embarrassed- dropping your head to his chest, trying to keep your cries quiet.

“Baby, please look at me. Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

He pulled you up to look at him once again, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, impossibly gentle.

You nodded quickly, wiping the tears from your face.

“God,” you groaned, scrunching your brow together, face palming. “I can’t believe I’m crying- fuck. This is- this is not how I imagined our first time. I’m sorry, it’s just-” you hiccupped, biting your lip.

Dean shook his head, voice soft and sweet, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear.

“Shh, sh, sh, no, don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me for the way you feel. Never ever. Tell me whats wrong, beautiful.”

You paused, trying to gather yourself for fear of exploding emotions all over him as soon as you tried to speak.

“It’s just- god, I love you so much. So fucking much- and when you- when you- when you died. I couldn’t take it, I just couldn’t. I didn’t eat. I didn't sleep. I didn’t shower. I didn’t talk. I drank too much- and now all of a sudden you’re here. And you’re with me. And you’re real, and you’re alive, and you’re okay, and fuck, Dean, I love you so goddamn much, it's almost too much to handle.”

Dean pulled you, close wrapping his arms around you in a hug, kissing the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

“I know princess, I know. I missed you so goddamn much. I thought I was losing my mind without you- and then when I saw you again, and I touched you, and felt you, and then we-” he stuttered, and as if he wasn’t still literally inside of you, he blushed at the mention of what had just occurred.

“-it was like everything was happening all at once. All you, all around me.”

He straightened up, staring straight into your eyes, determination coursing through his veins and dripping out his lips.

“But you listen to me, Y/N Y/L/N, I am never leaving you again, you hear? Not heaven, or hell, or anything in between could keep me away from you.”

You swallowed, nodding softly. You weren’t sure how he would do it, or if he even could, but against all logic, you believed him.

You sighed, stomach pressed against the soft white sheets of your bed, chin resting on your pillow, arms wrapped comfortably around it. More importantly though- under the category of arms wrapped around things- Dean was behind you, kissing up and down your back unceasingly, unable to keep his hands- or his lips for that matter- off of you.

“You imagined out the first time?” he spoke out of the blue, surprising you slightly.

You craned your neck over your shoulder to look at him, furrowing your brow.

“What?” you asked, unsure of why he would ask such a question out of the blue.

“Earlier. You said this ‘wasn’t how you imagined our first time’. So you imagined it?”

You blushed, turning back and burying your face in the pillow.

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, oddly childish for the question you were answering.

You felt him grin against your back, lips pressing to the deepest part of the arch in your spine.

“What did you imagine?” he asked, and your cheeks went up in flames.

“Nothing much.” You squeaked, unconvincingly.

He hummed, smirking as he made his way up your back, nipping at your earlobe.

“Is that so,” he teased.

You shivered, trying not to give in as he kissed across your shoulders.

“Shouldn’t we be going?” you yelped, pushing him off you and hopping out of bed.

He laughed, falling onto his back.

You leaned over, picking up your panties to slide them on, quickly realizing they were not wearable, tossing them to the side and walking to the dresser, pulling out a fresh pair and slipping them on.

Dean stared unapologetically, watching as the thin, lacey fabric stretched over your bum, cupping it perfectly.

“My god, you are a work of art.” He sighed, tilting his head to the side as if to get a better look. You whipped your head around, blushing

“Shut up.” You mumbled, pursing your lips in a pout. He only grinned more. “Come on, I mean it, Dean! Wheres Sam? And Bobby? Do they even know you’re back yet?”

Dean rolled his eyes, pouting as you slipped on your bra.

“Bobby knows. I went to him first- he was the only one I could get ahold of. He sent me your way- not after soaking me in holy water though.” He complained. You laughed, sliding on a pair of jeans, wiggling your hips into them- an odd feeling after spending so long not caring enough to wear more than an old ratty tee.

“Smart. And Sam?”

Dean glanced at the window, sighing deeply.

“Not yet. Bobby told me you were here, and my mind just went blank. It’s like I was on auto pilot. I had to see you.”

Your ears tinged red, and you turned away, grabbing a shirt and pulling it over your head.

“He really just leave you behind?”

You turned to look at Dean, thinking back to that night, on the way back from burying him. None of you said a word, not except maybe Bobby, saying you should get some sleep. He knew you wouldn’t though, so he just marched up to his bedroom, the same as the rest of you, no idea how to move on from this point besides drowning his sorrows in liquor.

You and Sam caught each other’s eyes, just before stepping into your rooms. You didn’t say anything. There was nothing that could be said. And then you both turned.

The next morning the Impala was gone. So were all his things.

You understood.

In fact, you understood so much that you threw some clothes and a toothbrush into a bag, wrote a note, and hopped in your own car.

“Dean…”

“No, I’m serious. He just left you and Bobby behind? Went off on his own?”

You whirled around, raising your voice.

“Everything was different, Dean! I know we promised to stay together but… You were dead! None of us knew how to handle it- we were all just trying to cope. Hell, I left too." You raised your arms, motioning to the cabin around you. You sighed.

"You don’t know what it was like, Dean.”

Your voice dropped, eyes glancing to the floor, avoiding his gaze. Dean pushed himself up on his elbow, frowning, feeling guilty. As amazing as the last couple hours had been, your wounds were still raw.

“Y/N, I-”

You cleared your throat, cutting him off.

“Yeah, uh, you should get dressed. We really should get going.”

You leaned down, grabbing his jeans and his briefs, pushing them into his chest.

You turned to go grab your boots, but he grabbed your arm, bringing your attention back to him before you could even straighten your back.

“Hey,” he breathed, “I love you.”

He pulled you down by your shirt sleeve, kissing you sweetly. You leaned away, blushing, clearing your throat.

“I love you too.” You rushed, turning away and walking over to your boots awkwardly, feeling his eyes on your back. He grinned- adorable.

You took a seat at the end of the bed, bending over and sliding on your first boot, listening as Dean rustled behind you, the bed dipping and lifting as he moved, pulling on his jeans.

He stood, walking over towards the dresser to pick up his discarded shirt, pausing in front of the mirror.

“Dear god woman.” He laughed, and you looked up, confused.

Your eyes grew wide- all across his back, there were long, deep, red claw marks, covering practically every inch of him.

“I mean, I knew I was good, but I didn’t know I was that good.” He smirked, and you glared at him, turning back to your shoes.

“I hate you.” You grumbled.

“Mm. That’s not what you were saying oh, ten minutes ago.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to wipe that wretched pink off your cheeks.

“You’re an idiot.” You quipped, quickly tying your second boot and standing. He pulled on his shirt, stepping over and dropping down on the end of the bed, facing you. He leaned back on his palms, legs spread, grinning up at you like a gorgeous asshole.

“Yeah but, I’m your idiot now, so,” He raised his eyebrows, lip quirking up into a lopsided smirk.

“Yes,” you nodded, sighing deeply, unable to wipe the smile from your face despite your best efforts. You grabbed his chin between your fingers, pulling his lips to yours. He reacted immediately, a hand on your neck, pulling you even closer, the two of you grinning like idiots.

“Yes, you are.”

#The fall #62 minutes #62 minutes pt. 10 #part 10 #pt. 10 #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #season 4 #spn s4 #spn #supernatural #lazarus rising #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #best friend!sam x reader #dean winchester x reader #reupload #re-upload

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felixoffelicis · 6 years ago

Text

Intro to Bite (HPfic)<pending>

A/N Im posting this here cause its not letting me send it to my friend through PM. This is just the intro of what im currently working on, and if I end up posting it ill do so on my wp account @Falling_Snow.

The event that changed everything for me had been simple and unimportant, something that I'd forgotten about a couple days after it happened. It wasn't violent or fear-inducing. There was no struggle or cry for help, and the act itself had only taken a split-second of my time when it happened. However, that one event would create a personalised hell that I'd never be able to escape no matter how hard I tried or how hard I tried to kill myself. An innocent action that spawned the blessing I considered to be the curse of Death himself.

Looking at the beetle that was the size of my closed fist, it was hard to think that the thing could ever hurt me, despite my father's strong statement that I shouldn't play with anything he brought home from his work at the Ministry. Not heeding his warnings, I had done so anyway. I was only ten, and of all the things my father brought home to work on, a beetle seemed like an innocent thing to inspect.

I'd been naive when I'd thought that the beetle was completely harmless, and when it had bitten my arm I had simply been annoyed rather than in pain or anything of the sort. I'd just put the beetle back in its cage as retaliation and gone on with my life, forgetting it had ever even happened.

There'd been no sudden fever or burst of unimaginable pain, no superpowers like the muggle comics, no evidence that anything had changed. It left no mark to my skin despite breaking the surface, and my child-self was content with putting a plaster over it and forgetting the whole thing.

I grew up.

I finished my magical education at Durmstrang and made lots of friends before my family decided it was best to move to Muggle London for my father's job at the Department of Mysteries. I met a muggle girl there named Kristen and pretty soon I found myself telling her about the magic world, asking her to marry me only a few days later when she accepted me wholeheartedly.

I became an Auror at the Ministry of Magic and after finding a natural talent for the detective work behind Magical crime I was promoted to Detective, and soon after that, Head Detective. All the while, Kristen cared for our two children, Rosealine May Skokvist and William Quinn Skokvist, one of muggle blood and one of wizard blood, both loved dearly despite their differences.

I solved crimes at the Ministry and watched my children grow into kind and talented adults. I walked my daughter down the aisle when she married a muggle tailor in London, and I was there when my son became a Potions Master and received his certification at the Ministry. I was infinitely proud of them both and cried when I held my grandson for the first time in a muggle hospital room.

However, it wasn't long after that I returned to that same hospital with Kristen, where a doctor told us she was very sick and wouldn't last for much longer.

I took her to every Healer at St. Mungos I could, but they could do nothing for her. I was holding her hand firmly in my grasp when she passed, becoming numb to my surroundings as the funeral was planned by my son and daughter, both of which who constantly were at my side through everything.

I buried myself in my work then, choosing to be productive rather than wallow in my sorrow. Kristen wouldn't have wanted me to stop my life just because she was gone and I was determined to live the best life I could for her until I could see her again in the afterlife.

Yet, I became reckless and flippant with my life after that, taking on more dangerous cases that my coworkers advised me not to pursue. Which is how I ended up in a duel in an alleyway in Manchester, swapping spells with a much younger and stronger wizard than myself. No matter how much I trained to become an Auror, there was still nothing I could do when I saw a green spell flying towards me in what felt like slow motion.

I thought of my kids and how they were going to take the news of my death. I thought of my 6-year-old grandson whose birthday was coming up in 3 months. I thought of Kristen holding my hand that night she left. I thought of all the things I'd never gotten to do and the people I'd never made amends with. I thought of how incomplete I was leaving things.

But that killing curse never hit me.

Instead, time itself seemed to stop completely and I was left staring at the curse that was inches from my chest.

Then, slowly, time resumed, but it didn't resume forwards. As images flashed in front of my face at a speed that I couldn't even register, I began to realise that this was it, this was what death was like.

This was my life flashing before my eyes, and soon there'd be a white light that would lead to the afterlife or maybe even just a void of nothing, whatever was there I was about to find out.

The white light came soon enough, exactly as how it was described in books and muggle films, blinding me to a point where I had to blink a few times to adjust my eyes. But when I opened my eyes and registered the image I was seeing, I couldn't quite comprehend what was in front of me. It seemed completely impossible.

I was on the back porch of my childhood home in Sweden, with a light summer breeze gently brushing my semi-long hair away from my face in a way that baffled me even further. I hadn't had my hair this long since I was a child, and with my current surroundings, I wasn't sure what to expect next.

Was this the afterlife?

As I took in my surroundings once more and registered what was in front of me, I felt my breath catch in my throat, because there, on my hand, it's tiny little fangs having just left my skin, was that beetle that had bitten me so many years ago.

The golden pattern on it's back shimmered in the sunlight of the early afternoon, exactly the way I remembered it to when I'd been a kid.

I sat there for a moment, not noticing or caring as the beetle scuttled off beneath the old boards of the porch, leaving me in stunned silence.

Here I was, a ten-year-old boy again and there were no signs of Death lurking around the corner, come to take me to the afterlife I was supposed to be at right now. Was this really the afterlife? Was I dead? It all felt real, and as my mother called me to come inside for lunch I wasn't sure what my next step should be.

The beetle I'd been bitten by was a scarabaeus tempus, a beetle used in the creation of time turners once they were crushed up, and a beetle I knew shouldn't have done anything to me with a bite. I'd heard my father talk about the beetles countless times for his work, and never once had he mentioned the possibility of what I was currently experiencing; albeit, nobody would know until it came to their death. But even then-- I should have died, there should've been-- Why was I here? Why--? None of this made any sense.

I looked down at the small barely visible mark that the beetle had caused, the wound hardly bleeding at all and easily explained as a simple bug bite once I'd wiped away the blood. I knew I still had to be in some form of shock, wondering if this was Death's idea of a joke, and if it was then I wanted him to know I didn't find it funny.

Somehow, I was stuck in a giant time loop.

I'd lost my life, my kids were gone, my job was probably still occupied by that bigot Riley Morris who had it before me, and there was the possibility that even if I killed myself right now I'd just return right back to the moment after I'd been bitten by that beetle.

After a few minutes of truly processing this, I realised I was crying, and even when I noticed it I didn't stop. I had just lost and gained my entire world, and now I didn't know what to do with it.

It was all gone.

My life had completely been swept clean and given back to me anew.

My parents were alive here, my wife was out there somewhere, and I was easily the most skilled Detective the Ministry had ever had and it would be easy to retake my position.

But did I want to?

Kristen wouldn't know who I was, I'd already solved every case that would now be presented to me, and the children I might have with Kristen in this life might be completely different than Rosaline and William. Could I live with myself, knowing that I knew everything about them and they knew nothing of me? If I went to go find my wife 10 years from now would she call me a stalker for knowing so much?

What was I supposed to do now?

Did I continue living what I had before all over again, or did I live something else?

I hadn't even gotten my Durmstrang letter yet, and I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted to receive it after already knowing so much magic. I'd be light years ahead of any first-year student.

My second run through the loop, I disappeared.

Using ageing potions to make myself appear older than I was, I immigrated to France, working small jobs and reading up on anything and everything to do with time magic. Eventually, I became well-known in my field under a pen name where I published much of my research, still not coming close to the reason why I was here.

I still mourned the children that were never born in this time loop, but I stayed away from Kristen, only ever finding her a year before I knew her cancer would grow worse and giving her a letter stripped of anything that authorities could trace back to me. I knew I wouldn't have the strength to face her myself. After all, in a life where she never met me, she already had another at her side when I set the letter on her doorstep.

At first, it hurt to know that the Kristen of this time had someone else, but I had to remind myself that this wouldn't be my Kristen, and she never would be. It was lonely, but I spent that time doing things I'd always wanted to do instead of wallowing in self-pity for myself.

I invested in muggle products I knew would get big in the future thanks to my knowledge of it and spent a lot of my time in muggle casinos and fancy hotels, not ever truly enjoying the cash when I knew all it took was one trip down the stairs to take it away and set me back to where I was on that porch. Yet, there was still that conflicted hopefulness in whether or not I'd die or not.

As the years dragged on and my 77th birthday passed by without a killing curse aimed at my chest, I began to seek more purpose, investing myself to politics and working my way through position after position until I was elected into being France's Minister of Magic at 79.

I carried the position with pride and found real purpose in it, doing everything in my power to bring the French magical community times of peace and valuable change for the better. I tore down prejudiced laws and allowed my people more freedom, doing my best to form a personal connection with those who I led.

However, I retired soon after my 90th birthday, spending the rest of my life in a forest cottage in the French hills, taking up a hobby for woodcraft and constructing furniture before I "died" at 128, my body going through the reversal process again as my second life in the time loop flashed before my eyes.

Once again I was on that back porch.

The third life I knew what I was doing and didn't waste time. I went directly to my father and told him what had happened to me, forcing him to understand just how dire this situation was, and he listened, even though his ten-year-old son seemed to have just lost his mind.

We worked day and night on trying to understand what was wrong with me, the prior knowledge I had from my second run through the loop still cemented in my brain even though I hadn't been able to take it with me. I didn't have any of my notes or research, but I still had enough new information for my father to patch together things in his own research at the Department of Mysteries.

But no answer made itself known.

I began to study genetic magic, making groundbreaking discoveries at the age of 14 that I kept to myself to avoid major outrage. The Muggles were close enough to making designer babies, I didn't need witches and wizards getting their hands on the same ideas.

The only answers I could find in my new field of study led to more and more questions, seeing as whatever the beetle had done to me must've changed not my magic, but the codons of my DNA in a way that I wasn't even sure was fixable.

I experimented on mice, and other creatures before trying to remove the gene from my body and was met with excruciating pain that felt like how I'd imagine a crucio felt, my hearting feeling as though it stopped in my chest.

And then time reversed itself and I was opening my eyes to the view from my back porch, the distant lake and trees of the Swedish landscape greeting me back from my 4-year trip.

I tried again.

And again.

I tried so many times I lost count, restarting over and over again until I eventually threw a bombarda directly beneath my feet, effectively blowing everything up for about half a second before I was once again reversed in the loop, staring at the beetle there with frustrated tears in my eyes.

It was difficult, and I spent a long time lying on that porch trying to accept the situation I was in, but I told myself I was okay with this, and that I could make this a gift.

It was only a curse if I let it be.

Life after life I kept pushing through, knowing I'd only end up back on the back porch if I gave up, and I was really starting to hate that place despite its beautiful scenery.

I avoided those I met in past lives.

I set goals for myself at the beginning of each life.

I experimented in blood magic and made myself a time-free home inside a trunk, similar to that of Newt Scamander's briefcase. Although, mine was a bit bigger.

I ruled countries, magic and muggle.

I raced cars on Japan's mountain roads.

I owned all of Canada at one point.

I invented an unimaginable amount of useless kitchen tools.

I invented spells people couldn't even dream of.

I trained dragons in Romania.

But I still couldn't escape.

However, the 12th loop through time I found myself attending a magic school in Africa as a transfer student, revelling in the home away from home feeling that these old buildings seemed to give off. I became the Headmaster by 43 and started my new quest of wanting to be the Headmaster of every magic school, with my eyes set on Hogwarts the next time the time loop reversed itself and deposited me on the back porch once more.

Little did I know that the 13th loop in time was where my story would truly begin anew.

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weirdboy530 · 6 years ago

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Affection

The cavernous Library of the DWMA rang with the sound of nails rapping on wood. In the center of the library were tables were students could sit down and study, and only one student was currently present. Maka sat at a table, tapping her nails while deep in thought. Her thoughts were not focused on the textbook in front of her, but on the empty seat where her beloved should be. For the last week Maka had asked Crona to join her in the library to help her to study. Except, that wasn’t the reason she started these study sessions. Her real goal was to observe them, in the hopes that she’ll figure out a new way to show their love to them.

Maybe I could rub their stomach? No Crona’s not a Blaire. She sighed in frustration stopping her rhythmic tapping and began to pull and twirl her hair. It was not easy to show affection to someone who was denied to them their whole life. Their first encounter as friends Maka could see that Crona was not even use to simple interaction with other people, like shaking hands or keeping eye contact. But it became very apparent how little affection they’ve received, when she decided to introduce them to her friends. The event had gone the same way it had for her, her friends had introduce themselves to Crona and had offered their hand in friendship, and Crona had quietly thanked them and shook the the tips of their fingers. It was all going decent that is, until Patti introduced herself. “ I know our first meeting was pretty EXPLOSIVE” she said giggling “but lets put that behind us and be friends”. And then she hugged them. Crona had screeched and jumped backwards landing on their butt. It had taken Crona a full three minutes to calm down, and explain to everyone that they got scared because they’ve almost never been hugged. And since then their friends have always been careful when showing their affection to Crona.

Wait Crona likes soft things, and they really like to …cuddle. So maybe…I should…wear softer clothing while we cuddle? No, that’s dumb. They probably wouldn’t even feel anything with their robe on. Maka was getting increasingly frustrated over thinking about how to show her love to Crona and wondering where they were. What’s taking them so long, they should have been here by now. She untangled her hand from her hair, then looked over the table and grabbed her pencil and began to twirl it.

When Maka realized her feelings for Crona went past just being friends, and had asked them to be her love, she wouldn’t admit it but the first few weeks felt like she was walking on thin ice. Crona started to become overwhelmed by simple interaction, that she thought they had finally gotten use to. When they held hands Crona kept grabbing and letting go, unsure as if they knew what they were doing. When she would cuddle up to them they became rigid and awkward. Soon she feared that maybe they didn’t want to be with her, and had only said yes because they were to afraid to say no. So eventually she confronted them and asked why they were acting the way they were.

“Well I guess its because everything’s different now. Your not holding my hand or comforting me because your my friend and you feel bad for me, your doing it because well…you love me.”

Maka scolded herself for not realizing it sooner, but was glad Crona was happy. Eventually Crona got use to the idea of being Maka’s love and started to act like they use to.

I whisper in their ear to calm them down and im sure they like it, I think. So maybe I should...talk sexily into their ear…no. Maybe I should….nibble on…no maybe lick….no……. Maka loudly groaned in frustration. Crona where are you? She stopped spinning her pencil, which she had been twirling furiously, brought it up to her mouth and began to chew on the eraser. Thank Death there’s no one around to see this.

“Maka im s-so-sorry im late” said Crona, startling Maka so much she bit down on the eraser head.

“ Oh dead Maka are you ok?” they said as they rushed to her side as she was having a coughing fit.

“Yeah im-“ she coughed, then spat out the eraser “-okay. What took you so long?” she said trying to pretend that she didn’t just spit out an eraser.

“Ragnarok got into a fight with Black Star over who was more infamous.”

“Really who won?”

“No one thankfully. Tsubaki managed to convince Black Star that it was best he wasn’t known for his infamy.”

“So what happened to Ragnarok?”

“He got angry that Black Star wouldn’t fight him. so he said he was gonna sleep it off.”

“Good we can study in peace.” She grabbed their hand and led them towards the table.

“Sooo…the new material must be hard to understand.”

Maka gave them a confuse look and was wondering what they were talking about. Crona then bent down and grabbed a chewed pencil and an eraser head, then gazed at her left pigtail which had almost come undone.

She hurriedly grabbed the pencil and eraser and began to franticly to fix her hair. “Maybe.”

Without saying anything they motioned for her to sit down, they took out their textbook and then moved their hand towards her.

“…Thank you Crona.” She grabbed their hand and moved her fingers against theirs and began to bend and twist their slender digits. Now I can concentrate.

Whenever Maka got frustrated, nervous or couldn’t concentrate her quirk would pop up. None of her friends knew about it, not even Soul, because she knew that her habit’s can be distracting, annoying, and sometimes gross. She actively avoided doing in front of her friends, that is until Crona came along. She knew that Crona wouldn’t judge her at all for her strange habits and had started to let quirk show whenever the two were alone. One day the two were working on essay in Maka’s room and she had gone through all her routine. She tapped her fingers until the sound annoyed her. She had played with her hair until both pigtails had come undone. And she had spun her pencil so fast it flew out of her hand and disappeared. She looked everywhere in her room to find something to help her concentrate, till her gaze stopped at Crona’s hand. Without giving it much thought, she grabbed their hand and started playing with it. She would rub her thumb and fore finger against their knuckles, twist pull on their fingers until she heard them pop, all the while stealing glances at swordsmen. But they weren’t reacting at all. Eventually this became part of Maka’s strange habits.

Their hands have really gotten callused. Must be from swinging from swinging Ragnorok around. Their muscles must be so sore , they probably….wait I know for a fact Crona likes it I rub their back. So maybe I could give them a back massage. Yes! That’s it. Its not to invasive so they wont be overwhelmed by it and it will help them relax so they’ll actively want it. Yes that’s it! I have to test it out immediately.

“Crona, lets go.” She said grabbing her textbook and other belongings.

“But I just got here.”

“ I know, but after having to sit in that chair for so looong by myself I really just want to relax.” She replied trying to hide her smile.

“Okay, lets go.”

“Great lets hurry.” She pulling them behind her.

Maka had been so focused on her thoughts that she didn’t notice Crona’s usual expressionless face had the smallest of smiles. Without even knowing it Maka had a long time ago had been showing their affection towards Crona. What she had assumed was Crona letting her clear her mind, they saw this as act of trust and love, solely from the fact that they knew it was an act they only ever shared with them. When Maka had first started playing with their hand they thought nothing of it at first, they had seen other people do similar things before in school and assumed it was normal. It was when she never did it in public did they began to wonder if it was something more. Whenever they were with friends and she was visibly frustrated she would clench her fist, she let her gaze wonder and fidgeted in her seat, do pretty much anything except play with her hair or tap her nails. Once when they were in class they had even given her their hand and she had just held it, she didn’t bend their fingers or pop their knuckles, she just held it. Crona realized then that Maka only ever does her routine alone, or with them. So finding out that they shared a secret act with his beloved had filled them with joy and content.

“Come on Crona if we hurry there might even be a surprise waiting for you.”

“Wait. What surprise?”

“Hurry up and find out.” She said as her cheeks redden with the idea of what she was going to do.

#croma week 2018 #croma #fanfiction #god this took so long to write

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undertalecomic-surfacetale-au · 7 years ago

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Things Forgotten-Frans story Chapter 1

Frisk’s POV

It was a nice day out, and Sans had invited me to go to Grillby's with him to which I had accepted. I mean who would miss out on hanging out with this pun loving skeleton? Not me! Me and Sans were now walking to where New Grillby's had made residence on the surface.

"so Frisk, how you been recently?" Sans asked breaking the silence.

"I've been doing great, Toriel has been teaching me how to cook recently. She's the best mom anyone could ever ask for!" I replied enthusiastically.

"hey that's great, Kiddo. you should have her teach Papyrus too." Sans said jokingly.

I laughed. " Hey give Undyne a little credit for teaching Papyrus, they have at least been making stuff that's actually edible now, right?" I said in their defense.

Sans couldn't help saying. "define edible?"

You nudged Sans with your arm. "Sans!" I said scoldingly.

"heh. im just joking kid, anyways yeah Papyrus has been making edible stuff recently." Sans agreed.

We then made small talk as we both walked down the sidewalk making our way to our destination. It was so calm and peaceful as we walked through the town that was newly built for the monsters.

It had already been a few months now since the barrier was destroyed and all the monsters had come to the surface, there was alot of hard work afterwards with me being the ambassador and all. I had helped Toriel and Asgore negotiate with the humans about allowing the monsters to live on the surface peacefully. Luckily most of them were very welcoming of the monsters, and had given them a huge peace of land to build a town to live in. Now that the town for monsters was finally done aside from some details, it was finally starting to calm down. I'm really happy that I'm now able to spend some time with my best friend Sans, after such stressful work.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I realized that I hadn't asked how he's been.

"So, how have you been Sans?" I ended up asking kinda stupidly since I should have asked while ago, but hey it's better late then never. When he didn't answer I chanced looking at him and he looked pretty deep in thought, also.. upset? Something about his expression made me a bit uncomfortable.

" Sans, are you ok?" I asked my voice laced with concern. Did something happen? That seemed to snap him out of whatever he was thinking, but clearly still didn't know what I said since he replied with-

" huh? ..... What was that, kiddo?" Sans said while looking at me with a grin. I thought it seemed fake, something was wrong...

"I asked if you were ok, you were pretty deep in thought there, you actually looked upset.." I was seriously starting to fear that something was really wrong.

"nah, I'm fine kiddo." Sans replied nonchalantly. I narrowed my eyes at him. Even though he was grinning, he was obviously lying. I decided to not push the matter, after all this was supposed to be a nice day out. I wasn't about to ruin it, I decided to take Sans for his word.... for now.

" Alright if you say so..." I said while sighing.

" oh I 'Snow' so." Sans said winking. I groaned, and then laughed at his small pun. Through all the talking, I hadn't even realized that we were already right in front of Grillby's.

" here we are! after you Frisk." Sans declared while holding the door open for me.

I thanked him, then made my way inside. It was Identical to the Grillby's that was in the underground. I proceeded to head to the usual spot at the bar, even though we don't drink, it's become our regular place to sit here at Grillby's.

" so Frisk, what do you want to eat?" Sans asked me.

"I'll have some fries today." I replied.

"that sounds good." Sans said, then went on to tell Grillby both our orders as per usual. Grillby nodded, sat down the glass he was drying, and then made his way to the back to prepare both orders. After I saw Grillby pass though the door to the back, I chanced a glance over at Sans. I saw him put away something in his jacket pocket-was that a comb?- and go grab for a bottle of ketchup. I couldn't rid my mind of how Sans had looked upset earlier, even though he said it was nothing, I'm pretty sure he had something on his mind. But I wasn't sure whether it was my place to intrude, so I just sat there starring at him from the corner of my eye debating.

By the time I had come to the decision to be nosy, Grillby had already come back with both of our orders.

"Sans, what is the matter? Did something happen?" I asked While looking at Sans, he had froze while drinking a bottle of ketchup. I could tell by the look on his face, that he had hoped that I had dropped the subject entirely. Well sorry, but you're not getting away that easily.

"kiddo, nothings the matter." Sans said sounding slightly annoyed. He had sat down his ketchup, and the lights in his eyes had dimmed a bit, but he didn't look at me.

"Sans..." I said. I was not going to give up, If something was wrong with my friend I was gonna help in any way possible. He just had to tell me! *Going out of your way to help your friend, Fills you with Determination!*

Sans took a deep breath, he seemed to be in deep thought. I just kept looking at him while I waited to see if he would say anything. Then after what seemed to be minutes, Sans let out a long sigh, and then looks at me, his face serious.

" i got a question for ya kid... about the RESETS" Sans started. It was my turn to put on a serious face, If Sans was going to talk about that it had to be well...pretty serious. I had had a feeling he knew something about them, but he never said anything that completely confirmed my suspicions. After about a minute he continued.

"you're the one that's responsible for them....right?" Sans asked almost hesitantly, as if he didn't want the answer. But something in the way he asked, made me think he already knew it.

"Yes, and no..." I answered him truthfully. He turned to me, his face full of confusion.

"what do you mean?"

"I have reset, but only once, it's when I left the underground by myself. I reset because I wanted to try again, and hopefully be able to save all of you from the underground." I said a bit guiltily, not being able to hide the fact that resetting their lives did very much bother me.

"hey, don't feel bad about that! you ended up breaking the barrier and saving us all in the end, that's all that matters." Sans said encouragingly. He didn't seem mad at all in fact he was smiling, not a fake one, a real genuine one. Then something seemed to pop in his head and his smile faltered.

"what did you mean when you said 'Yes, and "no"?" Sans asked, now reminding me of the rest of what I was going to say.

"You said 'Resets' right? I only reset once, but I have a feeling I know who did the other ones..."

"who?" Sans asked now curious.

" I think it was Flowey. Before I came to the underground, he had the power of Resetting, loading, and saving. In the underground he had the most DETERMINATION." I finished telling Sans, what I was sure to be true. When I looked over at him, he was looking at me with hollow eye sockets, the little white lights in his eyes were no longer present. I flinched back, as I stared into the black abyss that was his eyes. Almost just as quickly, he regained the lights in his eyes and looked away from me, looking a bit ashamed.

"im sorry, kiddo. didn't mean to chill you to the bone. Heh..." Sans said apologetically, rubbing the back of his skull. I chuckled at his little pun and told him it was no problem, as I'm sure this was a lot to take in.

"so... that weed was responsible, huh? i thought he kinda looked familiar that time, guess I now know why." Sans said, while grabbing his bottle of ketchup and drinking it all in one go. I looked away, then nodded.

"hey frisk?" Sans said so quietly I almost didn't catch it. I turned my head to face him.

"Yeah, Sans? What is it?" I asked, now curious as to what else he had to say. Sans then turned to face me, his features not giving anything away.

"can you promise me, that you'll never reset?" Sans asked, his voice sounding kinda doubtful. Probably thinking that I would refuse. I almost couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Sans, I-" I started to answer, but Sans cut me off.

"i know that's rich coming from me. heh, i mean i hate making promises and now im asking you-" Sans started to say jokingly, But It was my turn interrupt.

"Sans, of course I promise! You and everyone else are my friends and family, I never want to hurt any one of you again by resetting. Besides we finally have our 'Happy Ending'! I'm happy with the way things are now!" I said while smiling at him. I had already made up my mind to never reset, and I was Determined to keep it that way.

Sans looked at me with a stunned expression. The white lights in his eyes were shining brighter then I had ever seen them, as his face turned from stunned to happy, in a millisecond. I gasped softly as I saw he had even started to cry, his tears streaming down his cheeks that were raised from him smiling wider then ever.

"thank.. you..Frisk" Sans said with so much happiness, that I was taken aback at first, then I smiled back at him. I'm glad I was able to help Sans, it seems like a great weight has lifted from him. I told him it was no problem after all that's what friends were for!

"yeah..hehe" Sans seemed to be calming down a bit. He had finally stopped crying, and was starting to wipe the tears from his face. But I couldn't help it, he was so adorable and I was too happy from being able to help him, that I hugged him really hard.

"w-woah, Frisk! don't wanna crush my ribs now, heh." Sans said jokingly, while he hugged back. I loosened my death grip on him so I could pull away enough to look at him.

"Heh, sorry about that Sans-" I stopped what I was saying, cause when I saw his face, it was blue. He's blushing, that's so cute! Wait what am I thinking..?! I blushed a deep shade of red in response, while trying to will those thoughts away. Unfortunately, It wasn't working.

We ended up sitting there awkwardly, just staring at each other while blushing. I then realized that we were still hugging each other and our faces were way to close. I blushed even darker, as did Sans as if that same thought had also just crossed his mind too. We slowly eased out of the hug, and still sat there for a while in silence. I just kinda picked at my fries, not really feeling hungry anymore. Sans, god bless him, finally broke the suffocatingly awkward silence.

"so, you wanna go take a stroll around town?" He asked. His head was down and he was rubbing the back of his skull. He was still blushing a cyan blue, I giggled.

"Sure, sounds great." I answered, while getting off my stool and putting down money for the food. Before he could protest to me for paying, I was out the door, him hot on my heels. We walked down the sidewalk a ways, and were coming up to a crosswalk. I noticed he seemed to be grumbling something under his breath about me paying for him, I just laughed at him. Then he started to blush a light blue and pouted, actually pouted! He's really adorable when he does that....Heh, I guess I really do like Sans,..more than a friend anyways..

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that, I hadn't realized where we were walking. I stopped and glanced around. It then dawned on me that we were in the middle of the street, and the no walk sign was on. I looked ahead of me and Sans had continued to walk still oblivious to his surroundings. I looked over and saw a big truck rushing right where Sans was going, and I saw the driver wasn't paying any attention to what was in front of him! I felt my heart stop, and everything just went in slow motion from there. I ran as fast as I could go, yelling at Sans to get out of the way. He looked back at me confused, then shocked to see me running at him. I then jumped at Sans and pushed him out of the way. The truck was right in from of me, there was no time to get out of the way myself. I heard honking, and tires screeching. Then.... everything went black. A/N: This story is actually one from about a year or two ago I think? Idk, I have it over on my wattpad. I tried to fix some of it, since it was so terribly written back then. But honestly didn’t want to take that much time on it. I’m posting it on here, just in case you’re interested. This story and my surfacetale comic actually will have a thing in common but I can’t tell you what it is just yet. Anyways, There will be more chapters on the way. I’m just going over them and making sure they don’t sound TOO HORRIBLE.. eh whatever I suck at writing lol. Hope y’all enjoy the cliffhanger like everyone else did when I first posted it. ;3

#sans x frisk #frans #undertale #fanfic #undertale fanfic

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