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ccelinewritess · 4 years

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the distance between us

pairing- draco malfoy x reader

word count- 9.7k

summary- the first time draco uses the muggle post system, it goes so terribly wrong, and a letter falls into the hands of a girl who was never supposed to see it, a muggle at that.

warnings- curse words, ptsd, anxiety/ panic attacks, depression mention of death, murder, blood and burns aswell as insomia, seperation anxiety (?) and my grammar.if these may trigger you, i suggested not reading.

a/n- this took me a while to get out, sry abt that. the reader was set to live in a canadian town called kelowna, british columbia. it takes place in readers grade 11/12 and dracos 6/7 year. i hope it’s not to self inserted, and you guys can enjoy and relate to it. big thank you to @dracodear for the help on this, love you! also thanks to everyone who left owl name suggestions, all were awesome and i ended up going with @winnsmills suggestion ‘noctua’ ! tumblrs been acting weird, so i hope it lets me post the whole thing. letters are in italics. also please note, this is off the movies timeline! i tried to fit in as many details as possible but some didn’t make it.

the town was widespread. wineries and mountains everywhere, the okanagan lake splitting it down the middle, reconnecting the cities halves by a bridge. little snow and tons of rain. jeep wranglers in every colour roaring around into unholy hours of the night, bustling with life yet all to lonely at times. but hey, that’s kelowna for you.

rain was running down the windows of y/ns most boring class, last period biology. she knew she should be paying attention. she had a high gpa to maintain, and couldn’t afford to fail another class besides french. the last five minutes of blabbering ended after what felt like a year.

‘you are dismissed, ill see you all monday, have a good weekend’ and with that everyone rose, heading to the parking lot as fast as possible in an attemp to dodge traffic. despite pouring rain, the air was hot, and on the ride home y/ns mind raced over every single assignment she had to complete over the next two days, while her hands tapped the steering wheel.

‘english essay, math review, history paper, business management graph’ she muttered under her breath. the town was busy, many students often blew off class to go shopping, or hit a movie, or smoke weed, the possibilities were endless. her house was cool compared to outside, and empty. no one was home, not that it was a surprise to the girl, people weren’t usually home, siblings gone to university, and parents working absurd amounts.

something caught her eye on the counter, an envelope, an ordinary seeming one, but absolutely covered in small pictured stamps with ‘england’ underneath each one. eighteen of them, all different. she knew shouldn’t open it, so she didn’t. at first. but it was irresistible. there was a return address written in the smallest writing she’d ever seen. wogshell, no, wiltshire? she took it to her room, and locked the door before ripping it open. she didn’t want the one time she had something intresting going on to be interrupted by whoever might show up.

her mouth fell open at every line of the same scroll. who was snape? why was this draco boy sending him a letter? he didn’t need his help to kill who? what the fuck was an unbreakable vow and why shouldn’t snape sign it? why was his mum going to see snape? who was the dark lord and why did he pick draco for a task? what kind of name is dumbledore?

what she already knew was confirmed- this letter was most definetly not for her. but newly- she opened a letter from a potential murderer or maybe it was a prank, a sick prank if it was one.

so instead she crafted up quite the response, whoever wrote this was either hysterical or in distress, and needed some sort of company- she thought, atleast.

it had been thirteen days, why wasn’t the letter back yet? the owl still couldn’t fly even about the house without damaging itself further. maybe using the muggle post system was a mistake. but better have it land into the hands of a muggle, who would likely throw it out, than a wizard who would know a death eater would soon be wondering around hogwarts.

as if on que, the door bell rang and echoed through the empty manor. on the porch sat an envelope, with only one stamp, his name in the middle and another he didn’t recognize in the corner. shit, this couldn’t be good. his eye caught the stamp. canada? fuck, this was supposed to go to cokeworth not bloody canada. no one was home so he opened it right there in the foyer.

hello, draco.

i am not snape- nor do i know who snape is. i am also very unfimilar with some of the vocabulary you used. dark lord? unbreakable vow? you seem to have quite the situation going on, if i read correctly. im not exactly stupid, but i do know that this letter was most definitely not supposed to be in my possession. i didn’t know who to send it to, id send it back to you, but you probably don’t want a copy of your own letter. i also know you likely have enough on your plate, but if you’d like someone to talk to im only half a world away, have no sort of schedule and am a good listener, well reader in this case. good luck with whatever task you’ve mentioned. p.s. you had about seventeen stamps to many, first time sending a letter? unfortunate fate, huh ? what kind of name is snape and what the heck is a dumbledore? i suppose it’s none of my business, knowing you likely won’t respond, but if you do i wrote my address on the front. have a good day/ night/ whatever time it is wherever you are.

y/n l/n

tears were welling in dracos eyes, he was floored, in a good and bad way. his task was already going downhill. the letter he sent snape had fallen into the hands of a muggle, who did not throw the letter away, but responded. and snape was likely going to bine himself into the task through the unbreakable vow, which draco was more than able to complete. he wouldn’t have been chosen if he wasn’t, right?

not only had she responded, she offered him help, well distant company, to a stranger who obviously had quite a few problems and she clearly had no regard for her own safety. he couldn’t tell her about the wizarding world. not that he could tell her about anything, she could be lying. he had a task to focus on, he couldn’t write her back.

and that was true- at the time. he had no intent of writing the girl back. and yet he found himself reading the 201 words over and over, running his hands across the paper, expecting them to fade away as he wiped. counting and recounting. he surely couldn’t talk to any of the twats at hogwarts, maybe a stranger could help numb the pain. and as long as he didn’t tell anyone- she couldn’t get hurt, she was to far.

draco was packed for hogwarts, the response at the bottom of the trunk, underneath his clothes. he’d just have to get to the damn school, then he could write all he wanted- without his parents knowledge or ridicule. his mind jumbled together what he was going to say while his friends rambled on. the train pulled up to the castle after dreadful hours and he could barely sit still during the opening feast. his thoughts did falter though, when dumbledore gave his speech, he felt guilty- the shame of his family weighing on his shoulders. he looked around, all his classmates staring in adoration at a man who would be dead ten months from now, and they were sitting in the same room as his killer.

the singular room was nice, he knew it wasn’t for lounge, but for plots of death.

before he began he started making promises to himself. if i get behind on the plan ill won’t write, if snape notices anything about it, ill stop. the list went on and on.

he couldn’t put his pen down, the words continued to fly out the end, was he oversharing?

dear y/n

my deepest apologies that my last letter found it’s way to you. im sure you didn’t expect whatever you may have perceived from it. honestly, i don’t know how it arrived all the way over there. im almost positive you have better things to do than listen to my problems, and i know you had no control over the fact it arrived, but i ask you to please not share this information with anyone. i am unsure if i will take up your offer of amity, if you were serious that is. im at school now, so if you’d like to respond, not that you have to- you can send letters back with my owl, it’ll be faster (and i won’t have to worry about stamps- thanks for the tip by the way)

draco malfoy

and with that noctua was off into the night, and he could only hope that it would make it to her.

droll was running down y/ns chin and she was caught in a dream. suddenly a vigorous tapping on the window pulled her into consciousness, the sight of owl knocking her backwards in a scare. a crash sounded, if the tapping didn’t wake anyone up, that surely did. she almost considered just trying to ignore it, until she noticed a letter tied to its neck and reluctantly opened the window. she’d never seen an owl in real life before, but was aware from school that they weren’t exactly the kindest of creatures. this one just perched on the window while she removed the new enevelope, no stamps in sight. just a neatly printed address, and his in the corner.

from the new letter she learned even more- this wasn’t a prank, draco was a real person, was still in school, and whatever the first misplaced letter contained was true. he had some sort of task and didnt want help, but that was all. so with what she could, she wrote another response. it took an hour and she wasn’t exactly sure what she had written by mid morning.

draco

you’d be quite suprised actually, it gets lonely over here. i still haven’t exactly deciphered your original note, so if you would like to help me understand i think i’d be ready. and no worries about me, my lips are sealed. what is an unbreakable vow, im curious? you go to boarding school? and owls, really? what the hell is up with that? im pretty sure it’s illegal to own one here, but we are countries away, so perhaps it’s different all the way over there. send whatever you want. i do not- by the way- have anything better to do in the slightest.

y/n

he continued to write throughout the month of september, which bled into october before he knew it. he was avoiding questions about the task, just wanting someone to talk to. it wasn’t easy, she was curious, which draco couldn’t exactly be mad at her for that since he continued to write her, accepting the distant friendship that was forming.

he was learning a lot about her aswell. besides french, which he informed her he spoke fluently numerous times, she was a very good student. she was single, he didn’t remember how that came up but made a note in his mind- he couldn’t date her, nor did he know enough about her to be properly involved.

she read a lot of books, sappy romances mostly, couldn’t cook anything deemed edible by anyone, and her favourite colour was green, he smirked when reading that for the first time. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her future, just not a doctor like her parents wanted.

y/n was sitting in english as her teacher reviewed about univeristy application requirements. only next year they would be getting accepted and denied from their dream schools. she’d spent years dreaming of it, university, and yet somehow a boy half way around the was racing through her mind. she felt horrible about it, the small crush. it was incredibly selfish, falling for a boy with so much going on, he certainly didn’t need her as anything more than a friend to talk to, but he was good with his words, and making her feel important too. her dismissal came and so did a classmate, approaching confident and cocky.

‘hey, l/n’ he said, a smirk on his face

‘oh, uh hey, will’

‘what are doing tonight?’ her mind went blank, any excuse, come on, say something

‘i have plans’ wow real specific, great job, y/n

‘like what’

‘fish funeral, real important stuff, my family is just devastated’ her voice was clearly sarcastic and that was all before she walked right out. no she didn’t exactly have plans, but waiting for dracos owl provided much more company than any date could have. the sight of dracos owl flying towards the pre-opened window was somewhat relieving, she didn’t know why, just the fact that he had not failed yet, and was still out there was nice. she hadn’t had this much company. since last year at least, when her supposed best friend started ghosting her because of some petty shit.

thankfully noctua ad gotten quite good at being discreet when delivering the letters. of all the things on y/ns junior year bucket list, explaining to her parents that she had befriended a british boy with an owl who flyed into her room while her neighbours had a clear view, wasn’t one. she also began keeping a bowl of water under her bed for the owl to drink when it arrived, knowing it couldn’t have been easy travelling back and forth.

y/n

im not fully sure you want to know the depth, yet you seem to want me to corrupt you with my villain with a task baggage. i suppose it couldn’t hurt if i told you about the unbreakable vow. it’s like a promise or a bond, but if you break it then you die. if you can stomach that i may be able to tell you more. how far away do you reckon we are?

draco

draco wasn’t falling behind too far, but his first attemp had failed, and panic attacks were taking up most his time. he never had any, at least not this bad until this year. at least once a day he would start sweating, no matter how cold he was, unable to control his breathing or tears, feeling like the walls were caving in upon him.

that is, besides writing y/n as much as he could. apparently she was being honest, she had no schedule of any sort besides going to school. he hated to say, but he was becoming attached, he didn’t exactly know how either, but everytime he recieved a letter a small weight was lifted from his shoulders, even just when he read it.

noctua was doing the weekly, almost daily round at breakfast with the other owls and draco watched with anticipation as a letter dropped on his lap and owl on his shoulder. he tried to conceal the letter into his robes but pansy had taken matters into her own hands. likely jealous that she’d spent collectively around six hours with him the whole year, and he never talked to her like he used to.

‘ou draco whats this’ twirling the envelope between her hands. the letter had no name, no stamp, only a small heart drawing in the corner.

‘hands off parkinson’ he said while taking the letter back. ‘a letter from my mother, if you must know’ he said knowing that neither his mother or father had written him anything, despite having all the time to do so.

he got up and left the second he was done, not wanting to draw snapes suspicion about who could possibly be more important than working on this task.

he rushed to his room, desperate for more of her words. he tried to picture her voice in his head, but had to remind himself she wasn’t british nor was she from southern america.

draco,

so you just die if you break the promise? intresting. it’s not as hard to stomach as you seem to think, very unique tradition i suppose. you are not a villain draco, you haven’t told me much about it but your to good of a person to have picked any of this for yourself. i calculated when we you were home, seven thousand three hundred something, i don’t know where your fancy boarding school where you have owls for pets is, so it may be further. im ready whenever you are.

y/n

her letter was relieving for him aswell, even in the slightest it helped, but she deserved some sort of answer for helping him take his mind off the task for a couple minutes. he could tell if she wasn’t scared off already, this would do it.

y/n

if you are sure, here it is. dumbledore is my headmaster, the dark lord is a very powerful wizard, and snape is my professor. if i don’t kill dumbledore before july, he will kill me and my family, if i can’t complete the task, snape will kill him under terms of an unbreakable vow. im not a very good villain that’s for sure, my first attemp failed, and my classmate is out cold. i understand if you dont want to write to me anymore, just don’t tell anyone about this, please.

dm.

the only words to describe the feeling that overwhelmed her senses as she read were devastation and shock. tears pooled in her eyes as she tried to imagine herself with that much responsibility to wildhold until july. another detail that caught her eye, wizard? what did he mean by wizard? is that the word for dictator in england? certainly he wasn’t talking about the wizards she read about in storybooks as a child. her hand shook slightly and she debated mentioning it.

draco

you’re silly if you think i’d stop writing you. you need company now more than ever. please don’t hold things back from your letters, you deserve someone to talk to. that is quite the situation, im sorry if i pushed you, you do have enough on your shoulders and i want to help you as much as i can. i hate to ask, but you mentioned ‘wizards’ and i am a bit confused.

all my love

initially, draco went into shock. he knew he was probably oversharing, but didn’t expect to slip up in that way. he begrudgingly admitted; knowing that if this went badly he would likely be banished from the wizarding world, which didn’t seem like such a horrible punishment to him anymore. and yet she was fascinated, by the coins he sent her, the subjects he learned- which she compared to her own much less exciting ones, and everything he told her about it. he could now talk to her about much more, since both his secrets were now out in the open to her. he told her about the about the houses, and they both agreed she would probably be in hufflepuff, well he thought so, her kind and accepting nature, and she didn’t know enough to disagree. and for the first time in the long time he was seeing things differently, completely diminishing the rude behaviour he often displayed towards the house.

she even sent him a picture, the first time he ever saw her face. a large smile spread across her beautiful features, she seemed to be laughing. eyes glistening in the sun even prettier than he could have imagined. he slept with it under his pillow, and could stare at the still image for hours. no it didn’t move around, but he couldnt care less. he only had one picture of himself in his possession and he was young, about four. she was facinated by the moving image, his blonde hair and attitude shining right through. he would owl his mother for a more recent one, but didn’t want to explain why.

the letters were helping him, but the task wasn’t advancing. his second attempt had failed, he was caught sneaking into slughorns party, and harry was onto him. they were also causing him doubt. say they did get the cabinet fixed, he couldn’t see himself killing dumbledore anymore, the more he talked to her he realized he couldn’t be a killer, as cold as he was to some people, but he had to, didnt he?

most importantly every letter she sent gave him a sense of hope. that the second this is over he could move. away from voldemort, and potter, his parents even, england in whole. perhaps not to canada, but it could be a change, half way across the world with the girl who was helping him stay alive through his letters. he just needed to stay alive long enough too see her.

the seasons changed around draco, but his room stayed the same. hot from mysterious potions, for himself and some for dumbledore, he had not had much hope after the wine, though. it was lonely, not that he’d like y/n here, he’d much rather be there, all the way across the world.

may came in a blur, and finals were creeping up. one week y/n sat at her desk, every night, waiting for a letter that didn’t come. on the fifth letterless day she cried. not exactly knowing why, it wasn’t her that had much of a reason to cry, but dracos company had filled her lonely life up with light of its own, leaving it darker than it was before she saw the first letter. she was silly to be so attached and silly to expect him to reciprocate the feelings she had proclaimed in the last one she sent, and should have expected him to stop eventually. so she continued on with school, finding it a bit easier to concentrate now that a draco sized whole was missing from her brain, and her heart aswell.

the next week, though, a letter came, very appreciated by y/n as the whole other universe, british boy forgetting thing wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

y/n

im sorry for not writing, the classmate i mentioned all those months ago woke from the curse, and the potter twat hexed me with a spell id never heard of before. i would have tried to contact with you but i couldn’t exactly trust what my brain was planning on writing, and the cuts are still a bit sore. the cabinets fixed, but even if everything works out okay i won’t be writing very much at all. i’ll be home in july, but the manor will be infested with death eaters and i can’t let you get hurt. thank you for everything l/n.

draco

it stung a little, knowing that the empty feeling the girl just experienced would be more frequent, he didn’t mention anything about what she had said, and that this could be the last time she ever heard from him if he didn’t kill dumbledore. in hindsight, practically telling her she loved him in a letter wasn’t what he needed, she knew that.

he left out the fact that he the spell put a him in a huge emotinal draught. he was exhausted constantly, crying even more than before. the cuts were sore, so he wasn’t holding everything back.

the last month of school came and went all to fast for dracos liking, and death eaters now roamed around the castle, causing havoc where ever they could. his trunk had been shurken so small it looked like a small muggle toy he put into his pocket easily. the dark mark that was stretched across his left arm was now hanging in the gray sky, and the headmaster was no where to be seen. he paced anxiously around a vacant corridor until he heard a pop in the astronomy tower. he didn’t think people could apparate into hogwarts, it would have made his job much easier.

‘harry, get snape, i need snape now’ he seemed exhausted, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard

‘sir im going to sit you down okay, and then ill go get madam pomf-‘

‘severus, harry, I need severus now, go get him and talk to no one else’ he said in a shallow yet somewhat urgent and angry tone.

draco waited for footsteps to disappear, before whipping the door open with his wand already ready.

‘oh hello, draco, nice to see you on this fine evening’ he said nonchalantly, leaning his weight against the wall.

‘EXPELLIARMUS’ draco boomed, successfully disarming the man without counter attempts before glancing around to see a second broom

‘who else is here?’ he said sounding confident but feeling the opposite

‘i could ask you the same question, acting alone are you? you don’t seem supported’

‘no, there are death eaters in your school tonight, and i got them here’ he snarked ‘they’ll be up, any minute now, their fighting down below. i’ve got a job to do’

‘well done boy, if you don’t mind me asking a few questions, before you get on with it, im very intrested’ was he kidding? he knew draco was about to kill him right? wanting to stall, and not fully wanting to kill him he nodded his head yes.

‘you seem scared to act until they join you

‘im not scared, you should be scared’ he snarled, unable to contain the fear in his voice any longer any longer

‘oh draco’ he sighed ‘while we wait for your friends arrive, care to explain how you smuggled them in here? i never imagined it possible, especially not by a student’

‘i had to mend the broken cabinet that no ones used for years, there’s another one in borgin and burkes. montague got stuck in told everyone stories about it, how he could sometimes hear what was going on in the shop and sometimes hear hogwarts like a passage, and i was the only one who discovered what it meant. not even borgin, not you either, i did it right under your nose, you didn’t realize anything’ he said

‘you are right, i didn’t know that. i do- on the other hand, know that you aren’t a killer’

he raised his wand a little higher, feeling wheezy and as though his legs would give in any second

‘how you know that, I’ve done despicable things, you wouldn’t even be able to fathom’

it was dumbledore’s time to pause, glancing up at the sky and looking around the room before continuing

‘draco i know you almost killed katie bell and ron weasley. you’ve been trying to kill me all year, forgive me for saying this, but they’ve been very feeble attempts. to be honest ive wondered wheather your heart has truly been in it’

‘it has, and if you knew why didnt you stop me’

‘snape has been watching over you on my orders’

‘ it’s not on your orders, he promised my mother-‘

‘ofcourse he would tell you that, but it happens to be that i trust professor snape’

‘your losing it then, he’s a double agent, he isn’t working for you- he’s been trying to get in on the action all year, helping me and all. doesn’t matter now- he probably doesn’t even know they are here yet, he will wake up tomorrow and no longer be the dark lords favourite, he will be nothing compare to me’ confidence was building within him

‘very gratifying, we all like being recognized for our hard work, but, draco?im standing here wandless and weak, unable to defend myself, and you have not made any move to kill me, dont blame me for believing you will not, but let’s discuss your options’

‘my options’ he laughed ‘im standing here with a wand, about to kill you’

‘oh dear boy, if you were going to kill me you would have when you disarmed me, not stayed for a little chat’

‘i haven’t got any options, don’t you understand, i have to kill you, or he will kill me’

‘okay, if you don’t want to join the order with your mother where we could protect you, i only have one more question’

‘better hurry, theyre on their way’ he almost laughed which was quickly replaced when Dumbledore said his next words.

‘who is y/n l/n’ at that a tear fell down dracos face, and he lowered his wand almost completely

‘i-i don’t know who that is, odd l-last words’ he stuttered

‘draco dont play dumb now, not after we discovered you are very intelligent. we left some of the security measures from last year that Umbridge enabled, and I couldn’t help but notice hundreds of letters flowing to and from her. i looked into student files, ilvermornies too, nothing, id never heard the name, a muggle i presumed. but of all the things, that had me the most confused. i couldn’t figure out why you would be contacting her, so i did some meddling’

‘WHAT DID YOU DO’

‘fiesty all the sudden, are you? i felt bad after opening this, it seemed very personal, and i probably should given it too you sooner, but i was a bit preoccupied double checking my drinks and all’ dumbledore said handing him the letter.

draco

how is the cabinet coming? it’s raining even more here than usual, all day and night. and don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. you are just a kid, you shouldn’t be forced to be a hero. you are protecting so many people right now, but i don’t need any. you have given my life enough light in the last few months than i ever recall, and im so thankful that letter came to me. i wish you were here with me right now, but i know you can’t be, so just stay alive, okay?

y/n

more tears fell, he hated being so weak at the mention of her, crying before he completed the blessing his father and bellatrix considered the task to be.

‘she’s right, draco, you deserve another chance’

he was speechless, and could tell Dumbledore knew he found his weakness.

‘i always pictured you and pansy, never in a million years imagined you to be in a relationship with a muggle’

‘no matter who does it, your about to be killed, and im not here to discuss my love life am i?’

‘so you do love her?’ before draco could even think he heard a door open and raised his wand, hiding the letter faster than he had ever moved.

‘shut up, they will kill her’ he said quietly and desperately

in walked fenrir greyback, yaxley, and bellatrix. they made banter of their own, but her words replayed. he couldn’t do it.

‘go on draco’ his aunt whispered into his ear, making him shiver.

‘DO IT, DO IT BOY’ she yelled, in a high pitched and annoying voice

he felt a strong arm over his chest, pushing him aside, and he saw the whoosh of snapes robes and an already pleading dumbledore

‘severus, please’

‘AVADA KEDAVRA’ snape shouted, a green flash producing from the end of his wand, hitting the old man square in the chest. draco rushed over to the edge, watching him fall. it was a long way down.

the rain had sudsided, sunlight leaking into her room during the day. watching the sky at night, failing to find constellations he described many times to her. her wardrobe was mostly untouched, remaining in pyjamas most of the week. the odd time she did leave, she saw her old friends walking and laughing out her car window. eating and socializing felt like a chore, and she hadn’t communicated with the boy since may. he could be dead, she didn’t know. there was no death on the ‘muggle’ news, and draco wasn’t on the top wanted list, not that he likely would be on the television all the way over here. he could be fine, in wiltshire, going to dinner parties and holding balls. or maybe, he too, was sitting in his room staring at the ceiling for days on end. she had now hung the picture of a young draco by her desk, not needing to worry about anyone seeing. her siblings were once again home, but out living their lives so much that it still felt like they were gone. for the first time she noticed his scroll on the back.

‘i was four when this was taken i believe, my hair is very similar, i was quite sassy, im sure that shows without explanation.’ she blushed while reading, it was true. his hands were on his hips whipping his head around.

every day was a surprise around malfoy manor. not the kind of surprise draco liked. not the feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he read y/ns letters, those were replaced by a pit as they were summoned around the large table in the dining room. the first one he attended was horrible, watching his muggle studies teacher being hung above their heads, pleading for the help of severus as she died. he bit his tongue in an attempt to avoid raging about about every comment surrounding muggle culture. each one tore his heart, as he imagined the girl all those kilometres away, the girl he had no contact with, but he looked at her picture as much as possible, and hoped one day he could make her smile again like she did in the image.

senior year was here, and y/n schedule picked up once again. her timetable was full, maybe it was best, a distraction, after a whole summer of thinking alone in her room. draco was on her mind at night, no matter how hard she tried to forget. she’d made friends with her creative promotions partner, logan. he was certainly not intrested in her in anyway besides friends, but company after all this time was enjoyable, just in the hour of class

draco had little privacy, with death eaters in every hallway, conversing with eachother. wherever he went someone was there, until he finally got sick of it and began going to the garden bench. with a book, sometimes, giving some of the sappy love stories y/n mentioned a try or even the poetry books she sent with noctua awhile back, they were okay, but his heart hurt at the feeling of relation in every line. he could only read one or two poems at a time, without tears forming in his green orbs.

sometimes he went with a pen and a notebook. he wrote about everything. the smell of the plants around him, the feeling in his chest when the dark lord called for a meeting. most of the notebook, though, was filled with poems of his own. and letters he had no intention of sending for her own safety. she wasn’t in harms way, though, other followers were preoccupied with ruining weddings and other things they considered fun. he blabbered on for pages, about how he missed seeing noctua fluttering towards him at breakfast. how he rereads the letter that dumbledore gave him the night he died. how she listened to him rant on and on, giving her support no matter how evil he felt. how he found love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

snow was falling once again, he had to dress in layers, making it hard to write often, the plants started dying as cold settled over and his mother no longer babied him like she used to before the death eaters began inhabiting the mansion. he couldn’t keep himself company any longer and gave into the pressure he put on himself. as long as they were careful, she’d be in no destruction- he prayed as he wrote what seemed to be an appropriate response after all this time.

like it had been decades, she flinched at the noise of the owl on the window, carrying a much larger scroll that he’d ever sent before, some parts scratched out and written above. his writing was much less tidy than she remembered, like the letters on the page were anxious for her reaction.

love,

after all this time, im sorry you are just now hearing from me. you have ever single right to be annoyed with me, after you listened to me for months, helping me emotionally in ways i never be able to repay you for. you do not need to forgive me, or write me back. i just wanted to keep you safe. but i needed to tell you everything before it might actually be to late. you’ve probably moved on and forgotten about me, like you should, but i guess im saying that i am alive. i didn’t kill him either. snape did. i thought i was going to be able to, but he started talking about you. he gave me a letter from you that he had already opened, the words repeated in my head over and over. you talked about how i deserved another chance, and how you wish I’d was there with you. right before he died he asked me if i loved you. i knew the answer but didn’t have time to say it. ive read your poetry books, they aren’t as bad as i once thought, i can’t read to many at once. i try to forget what dumbledore said that night, and that night altogether. but one day i read ‘that’s how you know you love someone, i guess. when you cant experience anything without wishing the other person was there to see it too.’ when i sit in the garden i imagine you smelling the flowers, myself picking one and putting it behind your ear. when i go on walks i imagine your hand in mine. youre in my dreams. my never ending thought. i remember the way i felt when we started talking a lot, and how I felt when we didn’t get a chance. you listened to me when no one else offered. not even my parents. i hope your doing okay, and smiling and laughing. i don’t care if we talk about absolutely nothing, i just want to talk to you. i know that’s unfair to you after all ive weighed on you. but i guess that’s all, i love you. draco ♡

well this certainly didn’t get him off her mind. she didn’t need to either. ofcourse she was going to write him back, but she needed time to think about her response. she missed the next day of school, and his owl was comfortably standing on her desk, nibbling away at the water and crumbs. she took an hour long shower, multiple naps, raided her fridge, and had to email the school pretending to be her mum, excusing her for the day. before she even knew what she was going to write, she began on a new piece of paper. she’d have thought longer, but was sure draco would be convinced she stole noctua out of anger.

draco,

wow. i don’t really know what to say. i knew you weren’t a killer, and i meant what i said about you deserving more chances. i will admit i was angry, and a bit confused. i sent that letter with high hopes. i don’t know what i was hoping for at the time, i was being incredibly selfish. but couldn’t help myself feel pained when you didn’t mention it in the next letter when you said harry hexed you. i know we can’t be together, especially not right now, but i love you too. i wish more than anything you were here with me right now, and it was you i’d be graduating with half a year from now. i wish you were in the passenger seat of my car while i drive through the city. i wish you could point out the constellations in the sky. i usually can’t read to many poems either, they get me thinking to much. im ready to write again if you are.

y/n

draco hadn’t felt more joy in a long time. around seven months. she loved him, and that was enough happiness for a life time. he just needed to stay alive.

they continued to stay in touch, almost as if they never stopped talking, entertaining eachother as much as possible, masking their separate misery and the distance between them. he could get time away from the reality that was his life for a while, he thought, until snatchers brought the trio he spent so long bickering with to the manor.

a very distorted looking harry fell before him, his hair tightly gripped by bellatrix.

‘well, is it him’ he knew it was harry. and yet a part of him couldn’t bring himself to letting the boy get killed.

‘i can’t be sure’ he lied

‘draco, look closely son’ lucius said loudly, getting a grip on the back of dracos neck before leaning in and whispering.

‘if we are the ones that hand potter to the dark lord, all will be f-forgiven. a-all will go back to how it was’

his father and the and a snatcher quickly got into an arguement. lucius was yelling something about the manor before narcissa calmed him with a hiss.

‘don’t be shy, sweetie come here take a closer look’

draco was know level with him. the scar was still visible on his forehead, and swollen eyes staring back at him, hopeless.

‘what’s wrong with his face’ draco said

‘yes what is wrong with the boys face’ a shrill voice repeated

‘he was like that when we got him, something he picked up in the forest i reckon’

bellatrix walked away, laughing away at something. the blonde boys eyes were still on harry, before he felt a tap on his shoulder. bellatrix began acting out, yelling about a sword, putting ropes around snatchers neck from the end of her wand. sword now in her hand she walked over to ronald weasley, grabbing his collar and demanding that the boys be put in the cellar.

a different draco would have gladly watched a mudblood be tortured by his aunt. but he flinched at every scream of hermione, unable to watch he went to the next room, resisting tears as he thought of the girl he fell for enduring the same. she had moved onto the goblin- ridiculing it about who got into her vault- and hermiones screams were now gone.

‘youre lucky, goblin, the same won’t go for this one’ he heard footsteps

‘like hell it wont’ he heard ron yell, followed by the expelliarmus and what must have been harry stupefying his father. draco rushed in, now dueling a more normal looking harry, until their attention caught on bellatrix, a knife to grangers throat. they dropped there wands, and he did as instructed, picking them up. lucius was summoning the dark lord when they heard a tittering on the ceiling, and the chandlier crashing. it all moved so fast and harry was now wrestling draco for his wand back. he tried, but harry had already pried it out of his cold and shaky hands.

‘STUPID ELF. THAT COULD HAVE KILLED ME’

‘dobby never meant to kill. dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure’ the house elf squeaked, and draco had never resisted a chuckle so hard.

‘HOW DARE YOU TAKE A WITCHES WAND. HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR MASTERS’

‘dobby has no master, dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends.’ and with that they apparated out, not without bella throwing a knife into the mix.

meanwhile, y/n was receiving letters of her own. not from draco either. letters from the schools she applied to. so far everything was good, except for princeton, but she didn’t have the highest expectations. she was accepted to the university of british columbia, seattle university, even ucla. she only had one letter left, and the large stuffed yellow envelope sat in her hands. she wasn’t sure about it- would she even be able to go to the univeristy of london? it was far, but draco was there, well closer to there atleast. accepted- it read. it was an option, and she still had weeks to think about it.

draco was very hesitant to write after the incident at the manor, the screams of Hermione, and the terrifying looking potter still vivid in his brain and nightmares. he often woke from sleep in a sweat, yet freezing cold. whispers of the war around his house also haunted his mind and soul. he’d walk to the window and look up at the the stars, they were under the same sky, at least. eventually he had to write her, it had been half a month and he couldn’t leave her hanging alone again.

y/n

love, im sorry for being hesitant, but there is going to be a war. i hate to leave you contact-less, but i need you to be safe now more than ever. i couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt. potter and his friends were brought here to the manor, it didn’t last long- they escaped within the hour and a half. with that doped elf, and a goblin too. if you don’t hear from me again, remember i love you. and always will.

draco

of all the letters y/n had recieved, from draco in all, that was probably the most displeasing. a war? like with tanks and bombs? tears were shedding down her face as she wrote the shortest response yet. knowing he most definitely didn’t have time to listen to her talk about schools, and how she got accepted to london, but her parents deemed it to far, ubc would have to do, she’d find her way to him eventually, if they were meant to be.

draco

stay safe, i love you.

yn.

draco now stood at snapes new office, dozens of corpses on the floor, pooled in blood. the dark lord speaking parsel tounge to nagini. no one needed to speak it to know that the man was infuriated about something potter had done.

the information he left was lacking, was he serious? what did wizarding wars even look like? her graduation date was set, June 6th, but it all seemed irrelevant, suddenly picking out a dress didn’t seem as fun as she thought, same with getting portraits taken. should she have said more?

next thing he knew the protection spell was countered and he apparated in, grabbing zabani and goyle by the collar. rushing them into a corridor and waited for the door of the room of requirement to completely vanish before approaching himself. they successfully found harry, opening a box carefully before finally drawing attention to themselves.

‘well well, what brings you here, potter’ draco said, softly, much to his surprise as he meant it to sound snarky and rude

‘i could ask you the same’

‘i believe you have something of mine, and id like it back’ was he becoming… kind?

‘whats wrong with the one you have?’ harry replied

‘it’s my mothers, powerful but different, doesn’t fully understand me, im sure you know the feeling’

‘why didn’t you tell her. bellatrix? you knew it was me, and you didn’t tell her’ he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, nor did he know. harry really didn’t have anything to do with his feelings for y/n, maybe he should have just turned in him when he had the chance, it would all be over if he had.

‘don’t be a wuss draco, just do it now’ goyle whispered in his ear, making him chill the same way bellatrix did on the astronomy tower, almost a year ago.

‘expelliarmus’ hermione half shouted, causing narcissas want to fly out of dracos hands and run the other way.

‘avada kedavra’ goyle missed and weaslebee started chasing after them, yelling something about his girlfriend. turning back around after goyle unsuccessfully casted the fiendfyre curse.

fear was making his body almost rattle as he desperately climbed bookcases in an attemp to outrun the flames. he watched goyle fall, into the orange. yes, he was a complete and utter twat, but wasn’t a half bad friend during dracos bullying peek. his foot slipped, now just his hands were keeping him up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. in the distance he saw the three, zooming off to safety in the distance, leaving them their to die. not that he blamed them, after anything he did to them, he would have probably left himself there aswell.

but potter was flying towards him, arm out-stretched, grabbing onto his own and hoisting himself on the broom. had he already died? must not have, because the heat had finally caughten up. feeling as though he was going to pass out, he gripped tighter onto harry, maintaining his position on the broom. so much for staying safe. the second they made it out, they crashed onto the ground. he wanted to thank harry, but found himself running off instead.

explosions and hexes were being sent everywhere. people dying left and right. giants and trolls and spiders helping, he found himself in the slytherin common room. partially because he wanted to say goodbye, as he never wished to return to the building again once he had the choice. and partially as he was now aware of a large burn on his arm, and he felt a need to put off fighting until absolutely necessary. he entered through the portrait, for the last time. it felt like an aquarium, looking out upon the lake filled windows, merpeople and the giant squid often zooming by. he sat down upon the sofa, where he spent countless hours avoiding homework, plotting against potter and swimming in lust of his pure-blood status that now felt like a curse. he went up to his dorm, where he did very similar things. he wondered as to what he would be doing if he was a muggle right now. picking out a suit for graduation, buying a corsage for his date, but he wasn’t, so he best get going. running his hands along the furniture before leaving, not looking back.

the noise in the entrance courtyard had completely been diminished and draco found his way into the crowd of students pooling in. death eaters swarmed towards them at a painfully slow place, his mother and father near the head of the group. he noticed hagrid, towering above them, carrying what could only have been harrys corpse.

he watched carefully as they approached, trying to wedge himself inbetween and behind other students.

‘harry potter is dead’ voldemort paused ‘from now on, you put your faith in me’ silence fell over the hundreds of people who were know gathered. he swished his robes and turned backwards facing his followers

‘HARRY POTTER IS DEAD’ obnoxious and deafening cackles erupted

‘and now is the time to declare yourselves. come to our side, or die’ even more silence fell.

‘draco’ his father hissed before repeating ‘draco’

he felt eyes fall all over him, gazing expectantly. tears ran down his face.

don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. was this what she meant? he’d been looking for another chance, maybe this was it.

he shook his head no, and noticed his father had fallen a shade of pale he didn’t know existed.

‘Draco, DRACO’ he yelled, clearly enranged, but before he could continue - a movement shifted in hagrids arms, and harry fell out. in a heartbeat draco threw his wand to the scar faced boy. he caught it, looking grateful as he could while casting some sort of spell at nagini. death eaters were disappearing into the air- including lucius, narcissa being dragged with him.

draco didn’t know what to do with himself, he was wandless and he couldn’t fight, unless he wanted to engage in an actual physical duel, which he didn’t. he found himself in the great hall, asking professor sprout if she needed help patching those up, she pulled him into a hug, unexpectantly. he never recalled such contact or connection with a professor. he spent the rest of the battle helping healing wounds with dittany, and caring for those left in the wake. it was a nice distraction from the fact he would most definitely be disowned, left a family-less orphan at 17.

y/n couldn’t blame him for not writing, he clearly stated that it might be the last time. but every night she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore, or until she fell asleep. how could she like him so much? they’d never even met. she didnt really need to see him to know him, his letters told him enough about him. and she could only hope- that if he managed through his six year without killing his headmaster, he could make it through the war.

he delayed going back to the manor for as long as possible, until he decided to apparate directly into his room. he considered packing his things up, but realized no one was home. he was thankful, he don’t think he would ever be able to fully confront his parents again. he fell asleep in his bed, and slept for 48 hours straight. he slept through very vivid dreams, ones of y/n being tortured the same way as Hermione, ones of the dark lord coming alive once again and killing his mother because of his choices. he couldn’t bring himself to sleep again purposefully, no matter how exhausted he was. the days weren’t much better, his mind raced at unbelievable paces. he saw the dead bodies laying around the great hall, the unrecoverable ones. maybe he should have just fallen into the fire, surely that would have been easier. he was slowly becoming thinner, and always needed multiple blankets to even stay at a somewhat warm temperature, his heart beat faster than normal. he often felt pains in his neck, and his eyes were almost always puffy from crying. he spent so much time in bed he almost didn’t hear his owl flutter onto his nightstand mid afternoon, a small package tied loosely around his neck.

he opened it to see a letter, muggle candies and a worn book. suddenly he felt more awake, and be shot up a little to fast then he should have, sitting on the edge of his bed.

draco.

i don’t know where you are, or if youre alive, if youre reading this now. i hope this doesn’t arrive at a bad time. but your 18 now, so happy birthday. if you are seeing this, i still love you. i think about you all the time. i hope you are okay, and safe. in case you don’t end up writing me back, i just thought I’d give you some random information to keep you company and away from your mind. i graduate tomorrow. i look at your picture everyday. I remember what you once told me about following my dreams, so instead of medicine, im going to study literature and business next year. im staying in kelowna aswell for now, hoping maybe you’ll be able to visit someday. im sure you’d like it. my favourite colour is still green. i don’t know what else to say.

always here to listen if you’d like to talk. yn.

was it actually his birthday? had it already been a month since the war? it felt like a year but the visions played over and over like it was yesterday. it took him awhile before it clicked. the war was over, Voldemort was dead and there was no one to stop him from seeing her. he completely disregarded the lightheaded feeling he got when he stood up to fast- and rushed to his wardrobe. it took him a bit longer than he thought to pack up all his clothes, including the thousands of letters he kept hidden in a large drawer. the trunk was a bit heavier than he may have thought, and he ended up needing to take a car, in fear that he may not be able to apparate successfully to the airport without injuring himself. he quickly found out that muggle travelling was harder than he thought, and security and customs were also apparently a thing that all people needed to get through.

he wrapped himself in his cloak and didn’t get a drop of sleep the whole plane ride. it was nighttime when they flew over montreal, and then toronto. the sun rose as they crossed through winnipeg, regina, and calgary. he didn’t know this himself ofcourse, but he aggressively hit the map on the screen in front of him, desperate to know where he was. he only got an hour of half decent sleep before he felt rattling of the plane landing, and he gripped tightly onto the arm rests. he struggled for half an hour before he even got sight of his luggage on the moving thing that went round and round. compared to London, kelownas airport was very small and easy to navigate. the air outside was hot, making draco feel even more self concious about his clothing choices.

y/n put her hair back into a twist with a clip taking a suprising amount of effort to make sure it looked okay. her makeup was natural looking, nothing crazy but she looked gorgeous none the less. she slipped into her black romper, some canadians didn’t wear their fancy dresses to convocation, only something simple to go with the cap and gown. she arrived at the ceremony, seeing everyone, with excited smiles and laughs, conversing amongst themselves. and every memory came rushing back. they sat in rows on a stage, listening to the heartfelt and extremely cheesy speech the staff made every single year. she’d never noticed how many kids were in her age group until they were being called up one by one.

‘alex can’

��ruth lee’

and the list went on and on until finally

‘y/n l/n’ the moment had come, and she shook everyone’s hand, receiving her diploma and flipping her caps tassel to the left. ‘y/n is staying around next year, and attending the university of british columbia okanogan, good luck l/n’ her principal said and claps continued like they had and the rest of the list finished sooner, or seemed to go by faster, she wasn’t sure.

draco had never had to find a taxi by himself, but once he did he gave the driver the only place he knew, the address he saw on the top corner of her first response almost two years ago.

y/n pulled away from the school grounds, watching them disappear in her rear view mirror. it was hot with a breeze, but she smiled the whole way home. she’d done it, made it through every assignment and class, dealt with attention hungry bitches, and crappy teachers. the next door was truly opening. pulling up to her house, and closing her car door as she hopped out, she watched her feet carry her up to the house. turning the corner, she saw him, sitting there on her steps, a present wrapped horribly in his hands, looking very out of place in his black cloak. she stopped in her own steps and he hesitantly stood up, before she launched herself into his arms breathing in his cologne, finally together after all this time.

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orangeoctopi7 · 3 years

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Spiderstan AU Chapter 12

RESEARCH

No one was in a good mood the next morning. Stan was still nursing a huge headache as he recovered from the last bits of Gremloblin neurotoxin. Ford was still cross with Stan for endangering himself and Fiddleford the previous day, as well as a bit distracted thinking about what Bill could possibly be sending him. And poor Fiddleford had obviously not slept a wink last night, although whether that was due to discomfort from the broken arm or anxiety after the Gremloblin attack was unclear.

“Are either of you feeling up to retrieving our supplies?” Ford asked as they all poked at a breakfast of instant oatmeal.

“No.” Stan grumbled into his bowl, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he could draw the tension out from behind his eyes.

“...Fiddleford?” Ford asked when his friend didn’t respond. The inventor looked up with a start.

“Wh-what?” he reacted as though someone had just threatened him.

“I just want to know if you’re feeling up to going back up the hill and retrieving the supplies we had to leave behind.”

McGucket fidgeted with the sling that was holding his broken arm in place. “N-n-no, no I don’t think so.”

Ford frowned with concern. “Alright. I should be able to manage on my own with the amulet of levitation. Stanley, could you at least take Fiddleford to the hospital, so you can get a professional to set it and provide a proper cast?”

“Waste of money, if y’ask me.” Stan grunted.

“I didn’t ask you.” Ford hissed. “Fiddleford, I suppose it’s your own choice whether you want to go see a doctor or not.”

“No! I’m not crazy! I’m not seein’ no shrink!” his friend snapped.

“...I meant for your arm.” Stanford clarified, after a moment of stunned silence.

“...Oh. R-right…. Yeah… r-reckon I oughta…”

“Look, buddy, if you don’t wanna go to the hospital, no judgement here.” Stan assured the inventor. “And if you do wanna go, I’ll drive ya, just don’t expect me to come in with you.”

“They don’t charge you for sitting in the waiting room, Stan.” Ford rolled his eyes.

“No, but if I ask for a cup of water, they’d probably add it to your bill.” Stan countered.

Ford stood and grabbed his coat, along with a small turquoise stone set in a brass broach. “Well, you two work out what you want to do. I’m going to go retrieve our things.”

“Try not to get yourself killed while you’re off on your own, ok?” Stan called after him as he left.

“I’ll be fine, mom!”

Stan and McGucket just sat chewing their oatmeal for another moment or two before either of them spoke again.

“So, uh, just to be clear, did you want me to drive you to the hospital, or…?”

“Oh, I reckon I should go.” McGucket nodded, more confident this time. “Mainly ‘cuz this make-shift cast an’ sling Stanford made fer me ain’t ‘xactly comfer’ble. A professional one’ll prob’ly be better protection, too.”

“Alright, we’ll go in a minute, just lemme finish eating.”

“While we’re out, I think we oughta talk ‘bout Stanford’s, uh, mysterious friend.”

Stan grimaced. “Yeah. I think that thing was here again last night. I was too out of it to go check, though.”

“Does it show up every night?” McGucket asked anxiously.

“Nah, I only felt it a few times while you were gone.” Stan informed him. “And two of those were during the day. I dunno what that thing’s deal is.”

“That’s ‘xactly why we gotta learn more ‘bout it.” the inventor. “It don’t seem like Ford’s gonna be very forthcoming with information, so we’ll have to start askin’ around the town.”

“How do we do that in a way that, y’know, doesn’t make people think we’re crazy?”

Fiddleford flinched at Stan’s words, and he needed a few seconds to regain his composure.

“Like I said before, lots’a Native American artefacts round the valley have that one-eyed triangle on it. I’m sure if’n we just ask people if they know what it is or where it comes from, act like we’re jus’ interested in the history, that won’t turn no heads.”

“Yeah, cuz I’m sure people will believe a guy like me is just interested in history.”

“Why not? Nobody here knows you ‘cept maybe as Ford’s brother, if they don’t just mistake you for ‘im outright. It ain’t that hard to believe.”

Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Fiddleford had a point. Maybe this would work.

* * *

After dropping Fiddleford off at the hospital, Stan started asking around about the yellow triangle thing. While most folks at least recognized the symbol when Stan drew it, no one really knew where it came from or what it was, other than something associated with the illuminati. Nobody knew about its connections to local Native American folklore. Stan supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, it wasn’t like he expected the hospital receptionist to be an expert on Native American history.

Thankfully, Fiddleford’s checkup didn’t take too long. Stan had just wrapped up a conversation with an old farmer when the inventor stepped back into the waiting room, wearing a new cast.

“Any luck?” McGucket asked as they climbed back into Stan’s car.

“No. Shockingly, none of these yokels know anything about our mysterious visitor.”

“Hmmm, I reckon we’ll have better luck researchin’ at the library.”

Stan groaned loudly.

“What’ve you got against libraries?” Fiddleford asked, like an insult to the library was as bad as a personal insult.

“Nothin’, libraries are great, they’re some place I can go for air conditioning or heating and just sit around for a few hours without raisin’ a fuss. What I ain’t a fan of is researching.”

Fiddleford chuckled and shook his head. “Well, lucky for you I’m plenty experienced in that department. S’pose you could chat with the librarians while I do the book research.

The library was nearly empty, considering it was the middle of the day on a Wednesday. Of course, that meant the librarians weren’t too preoccupied to answer some questions. One helped Fiddleford search the catalog for books on the local tribes’ history and folklore, while the other talked to Stan.

“Ah yes, you see a lot of this figure in ancient art.” The librarian nodded. “Many people erroneously assume it’s a Freemason or illuminati symbol, but it actually becomes much less common after European contact.”

“Why’s that?” Stan asked.

“Hmm, I’ll admit I don’t know. We haven’t got access to any recordings of local oral tradition. Although I’ve heard many Native American communities are starting to tape that sort of thing. If you really want to know the original story behind that symbol, you should go to the original source!”

“Yeah, cuz I’m sure they’re eager to share the story with some random white guy.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure as long as you’re respectful, they’d just be happy someone is taking an interest. Warm Springs Reservation is only about an hour and a half drive from here, they’re a confederation of Tenino, Wasco, and Paiute tribes. They have a museum, you should go pay them a visit.”

Respectful wasn’t usually in Stan’s vocabulary, but he supposed this case was an exception.

Seeing as the librarian didn’t have much more info for Stan, he contented himself with browsing the library’s comics section while Fiddleford did his book research. The nerd took much less time than Stan had been expecting.

“This library’s collection of local Native American folklore ain’t what I’d call extensive.” Fiddleford shook his head, “I was only able to find a couple of tangential references to the thing. All I got is it’s associated with knowledge.”

“Hmph, no wonder Ford’s buddy-buddy with it.”

“What ‘bout you, did the librarian have any more info for ya?”

“Not really, but she did recommend I go visit the nearest reservation and check out their museum. Not a bad idea really, ‘snot like we’ve gotten any info from anyone else. Plus, I bet they’ve got a casino!”

“That’s not really gonna help us figure anything out.”

“No, but it’ll help me blow off steam. Besides, Ford’ll be suspicious if I suddenly wanna visit a Native American museum. I’m coverin’ my tracks.”

* * *

Thanks to Ford’s photographic memory and stopping to get directions from a passing gnome, the young researcher was able to find their gear and carry it back to Fiddleford’s truck in just a few hours. Retracing his steps brought back memories of their hike, both good and bad. That night around the campfire had been nice, talking about their plans for the future, joking with Stan… but then the next morning, he’d overhead his friends talking behind his back.

“...And while you were on vacation, he kinda implied he wasn't up here alone before you moved in. I think this has been going on for a while. Maybe even years. Did you ever notice anything weird right after you moved in?"

"Other than that creepy triangle symbol everywhere? Not really…"

Ford grit his teeth, and the levitating objects in front of him wobbled. Didn’t they trust him? Even if he couldn’t tell them about Bill, couldn’t they at least understand that he was just doing what he could to further their research? Why did they automatically assume Bill was dangerous?

“...They could have at least asked me…” The researcher muttered under his breath.

“WELL, THEY COULD HAVE, BUT WE BOTH KNOW YOU WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GIVE THEM A STRAIGHT ANSWER.”

“Bill!” Ford startled in surprise.

“HEYA SIXER, THOUGHT I’D COME KEEP YOU COMPANY WHILE YOU PICK UP AFTER YOUR BROTHER’S MESS.”

“Thank you, Bill, I appreciate it.” Ford smiled gratefully.

“HEY, WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR! NOT LIKE THOSE JERKS WHO LEFT YOU TO DO THIS ON YOUR OWN.”

“Well, that’s not their fault. They’re both still recovering from the Gremloblin attack yesterday.”

“SO, WHAT’S EATIN’ YA, SIXER? BESIDES YOUR OWN BODY’S METABOLISM SLOWLY BURNING ITSELF OUT.”

Ford sighed. “I just wish I could tell them about you. It’d make things so much easier!”

Bill tisked. “THEIR REACTION TO MY HELP AT THE ALIEN SHIP IS PROOF ENOUGH, THEY JUST WOULDN’T GET IT.”

“But if I had a chance to explain--”

“WE’VE ALREADY DISCUSSED THIS, FORDSY. EVEN IF THEY DO TAKE YOUR EXPLANATION SERIOUSLY AND DON’T THINK YOU’VE FINALLY LOST IT, ARE YOU REALLY NAIVE ENOUGH TO BELIEVE THEY’LL JUST GO ON SUPPORTING YOU? WE BOTH KNOW WHAT STANO’S LIKE WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO MOVE ON TO SOMETHING BIGGER AND BETTER. AND FOUR-EYES ALREADY ADMITTED TO YOUR FACE HE’D RATHER BE WORKING ON HIS OWN PROJECTS BACK HOME WITH HIS FAMILY. YOU REALLY THINK HE WOULDN’T TAKE THE FACT THAT YOU’VE GOT ME AS A SIGN HE’S OK TO PACK UP AND HEAD BACK HOME?”

“N-no, he wouldn’t… I still need his help!”

“HMMM, MAYBE YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE HE’D HELP HIMSELF TO YOUR PRELIMINARY RESEARCH AND PUBLISH IT HIMSELF FIRST.”

“Fiddleford’s my friend, he wouldn’t do that!”

“OH RIGHT, I FORGOT! YOU TWO ARE SUCH GOOD FRIENDS YOU’D NEVER LIE TO EACH OTHER OR TALK BEHIND THE OTHER’S BACK!”

Ford did not have a good rationalization for that.

“I’M JUST SAYING, STANFORD, BE CAREFUL WHO YOU TRUST!”

* * *

Stan and McGucket were helping themselves to a late lunch when Ford returned with their equipment.

“So you went to the hospital after all.” Ford observed, nodding at Fiddleford’s new cast.

“Oh, yep…” Fiddleford answered. The inventor still seemed anxious and distracted.

“How long did they say you’d need to wear the cast?”

“‘Bout a week…” Fiddleford tapped his foot nervously.

Ford frowned. “I was hoping we’d be able to start connecting the hyperdrive to the portal tonight, but I supposed Stanley could help lift the superstructure.”

“Mmmnope.” Stanley declined. “I’m headin’ out to the casino tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“To gamble, genius, what do you think I’m gonna do at a casino?”

“No, I mean… why do you feel the need to go to a casino?”

“Have a little fun, make a little cash.”

“...Is this because I still haven’t gone grocery shopping?”

“What!? No, for cryin’ out loud, Ford, I just wanna go out and spend a night on the town!”

“On a Wednesday?”

“Yeah, that’s how you beat the crowds! I figure I deserve a break after fighting a monster and getting poisoned!”

“Oh…” Ford deflated. “... that’s fair. But… you’re coming back afterwards, right?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, your latest specimen isn’t gonna fly the coop.”

Stanford frowned at his brother’s comment, but didn’t offer a retort. Instead he set about fixing his own late lunch. “So yet another day goes by where we make no progress on the portal project.”

“Stanford, I know yer eager to make your mark and get answers, but there really ain’t any reason we can’t take another day or two!” Fiddleford assured him. “There ain’t no ‘Weirdness Rush’ yet.”

“Perhaps, but one thing I’ve learned over the last six years here is that it’s far too easy to get distracted by every little fascinating thing one comes across here. If we don’t stay focused, we could easily keep putting it off until it just never gets done. I prefer to strike while the iron is hot.”

“Well, you keep striking iron, Ford.” Stan waved him off. “Tonight, I’m hopin’ to strike gold!”

* * *

After Stan left, the two scientists spent the night going over calculations and carefully inspecting the hyperdrive. Ford was disappointed they wouldn’t be able to start hooking it up to the mechanics of the portal just yet, but it was the kind of delicate mechanical work he only trusted McGucket with. He wished he had some more manual work to preoccupy his mind tonight. The young researcher had a hard time focusing on his calculations; his mind kept wandering to his brother.

If Stan won the jackpot, he’d be able to support himself. He wouldn’t have any more reason to stay here and work with me… Would he even come back? Would he even bother telling us?

Ford sighed with frustration as he realized he’d just read the same equation three times over. He really needed something to keep his hands occupied while he worked. He reached over to McGucket’s desk for what he often did when he needed something to keep his hands busy, and picked up his friend’s Cubics Cube. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed it still hadn’t been solved since the last time he scrambled it. He’d never seen Fiddleford leave it unsolved for more than a few hours. He glanced over to see the young inventor also seemed to be having trouble focusing on his work.

“You can’t concentrate either?” Ford asked, noticing how Fiddleford’s knee kept up a steady pace of 2 kbps, but his eyes stayed fixed at the top of the page he was supposed to be checking.

Fiddleford startled at his friend’s words. “S-sorry, jus’ tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Ford offered him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t imagine so. I’m sure you’ll be on the mend soon enough though.”

“Mmm.” McGucket hummed noncommittally. “And how ‘bout you, what’s keepin’ you from concentratin’?”

The researcher hemmed and hawed for a moment before he finally settled on an answer. “I suppose I’m a bit concerned with Stanley. I know he’s staying here because he’s got nowhere else to go, and I’m happy to give him a place to stay, but if things go well for him at the casino tonight… why would he stay here if he suddenly acquires the means to support himself?”

McGucket huffed a small chuckle and rolled his eyes. “It’s like I keep tellin’ ya Ford, you oughta be tellin’ him this stuff, and not me! If’n you really want him to stay, then you gotta be honest with him!”

“I-I am!” Ford insisted, willfully ignoring the fact that he was not, in fact, being honest about Bill. That didn’t count. He’d tell Stan if he thought Stan needed to know.

The inventor just rolled his eyes again. “Mama was right, can’t be honest with others if’n ya ain’t honest with yerself first.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean, ya lost yer temper with me the last time I brought it up!”

Ford scoffed. “I am not under some deluded hope that if Stan stays, it will magically solve our issues.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, it does seem like you two are past that point. Now you’re just wantin’ to keep him around ‘cuz he’s your brother and you’ll miss him!”

The atmosphere of the room instantly went cold, and the pages of calculations in Fords hands crinkled as his grip tightened. “I would absolutely. Never. Try and keep Stan around. Just because I would miss him.” He enunciated through clenched teeth. “I… I simply… I have his best interests in mind! And the interest of my research! But I’m not trying to keep him here! He’s free to leave! He--he’s free to pursue other interests!”

McGucked raised his hands placatingly. Obviously, he had touched a nerve. “I’m sorry, I misspoke! I jus’ meant to say you care about him is all!”

“Of course I care about him! When was that ever in question!?”

Fiddleford gave him a steady look. “When ya went more than ten years without talkin’ to each other.”

Ford flushed. “It’s not like Stanley ever reached out to me! And I was the one who had a regular address and phone number! How was I supposed to talk to him, when he was always traveling!? Even our mother never got more than the occasional postcard!”

“I’m not sayin’ yer brother’s blameless in this, Ford, I’m jus’ sayin’ you could stand to actually let him know how you feel!”

“I don’t even know how I feel half the time!” The researcher burst. He was stunned by his own words, and took a moment to collect his thoughts and calm down a bit before continuing. “Stanley’s my brother, and he was such an important part of my life growing up. Of course I care about him. But the things he’s done-- the things he still does-- the way he ignores what I want because he thinks he knows best-- it infuriates me! So I suppose you could say my feelings for him are… complicated.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Family’s always complicated.”

Ford scoffed derisively. “This is considerably more complicated than the average family squabble.”

McGucket laughed. “You’re right about that! Well, if it makes ya feel any better, I’m pretty sure Stan ain’t gonna run out on ya tonight, even if he does win it big at that casino. He’s got unfinished business here, after all.”

“That’s an odd way to refer to our continued studies of his powers, but I suppose you’re right.”

* * *

The parking lot for the Warm Springs History Museum was completely empty. Not that the casino lot across the way was packed, but it at least had a few cars parked near the entrance. Stan worried the museum might be closed, but he saw the light was on, and the door was unlocked.

There didn’t appear to be another soul in the building. Stan wandered around from one exhibit to the next, looking for anything that might be related to Ford’s mysterious benefactor. Stan wasn’t really all that surprised that he didn’t find anything. Finally, he rounded a corner and found the gift shop. A teenage girl who was probably supposed to be the cashier sat in front of a small TV. It was clearly supposed to be playing a VHS that the gift shop was trying to sell, but instead an Itira 3600 was hooked up and playing Brick Break.

“Uh, ‘scuse me?” Stan cleared his throat and knocked gently on the counter.

The girl didn’t glance away from the screen, eyes carefully following the bouncing pixel as it broke through another line of bricks. “Yeah I know you’re there I can see your reflection on the screen. We close in like ten minutes, just grab whatever you want and I’ll ring you up once I clear this level.”

“I’m not here to buy anything.”

“Then you better turn around and head back to the casino, ‘cuz bricks ain’t the only thing I can break.”

“I don’t want anything from you either!” Stan assured her, waving his hands innocently. “I just got some questions about, uh, tribal history.”

“That’s what this museum is here for, sir.” She answered flatly.

“The thing I’m askin’ about isn’t in the museum, trust me, I checked.”

“We got history books too.”

“I doubt it’s in there either. Hey, if you’re too busy, is there someone else I can talk to?”

The girl tisked and tilted her game controller. “Yeah yeah, just a sec. I just got one more line at the top.”

Stan rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. He supposed he couldn’t blame the girl. This was probably a very boring job. He knew most people who came this way were probably more interested in the casino, not the history of the people who had to run it just to make ends meet.

The girl finally cleared the level and put her controller down as the new level loaded in. “Ok, what’s your question.”

“Ok, this might sound stupid, but can you tell me more about what this thing is?” Stan pulled a pamphlet off the counter and drew the triangle with the eye. “I think it’s usually yellow?”

The girl raised her eyebrow in surprise when she took in Stan’s drawing. “Oh… that. You don’t see anything about that in here because that’s associated with… I guess the best word for it would be curses?”

Stan’s heart skipped a beat. “R-really? The little research I did on it beforehand said it was associated with knowledge.”

“Yeah, cursed knowledge.” The girl told him. “I’ll admit, I’m not super familiar with it. It’s kinda really ancient. When Nathaniel Northwest swindled us out of our land in Gravity Falls, we were relative newcomers. All the other tribes in the area believed the valley was cursed, because of that thing.”

Stan gulped. “What, uh, what’d it do?”

The girl put on her best storytelling voice. “Well, a thousand years ago, there was an old shaman called Modoc the Wise. He and his people worshipped that being. Until one day, Modoc learned its terrible secret. Modoc warned the people that the being they’d been worshipping was a liar, and that it would lay waste to the valley. But before he could tell them any more, the being drove him mad, and he slaughtered half his tribe before lighting himself on fire to try and stop it!”

Stan paled. “So, uh, this guy’s really bad news, huh?”

“That’s an understatement, but yeah.” The girl nodded. “Why do you want to know, anyway?”

“Uh, I live in Gravity Falls. I’ve just seen this thing on a lot of stuff, wondered what it was.”

“Ah, well, have fun living with the knowledge that your hometown is cursed!” She smiled viciously at him. “Now, it’s closing time. Are you gonna buy something or not?”

* * *

Stan tried to take his mind off things at the casino. His superhuman reflexes made him a whiz at the slots, but he had learned in the past that winning too much tended to draw unwanted attention. Of course, Stan was too busy trying to process what he’d just learned to pay much attention to his gambling, so it’s not like he could have won it big even if he was trying.

After just half-an-hour, it was clear that his heart just wasn’t in it today. Stan decided to play a round of Craps before he left, just to get in some dice rolling. Then he’d head home.

Careful. He warned himself. Don’t go callin’ that place your home. You know the second you get comfortable there is the second Ford decides he doesn’t want you around anymore.

By the time he finished, Stan managed to leave with about $20 more in his pocket than when he came in, so it wasn’t a bad night, gambling-wise. And he had at least learned something about that triangle guy. It just wasn’t good news. The trip certainly wasn’t a loss. So why did Stan feel like he hadn’t gained anything?

These thoughts weighed so heavily on his mind, that he never noticed the eyes on him as he left the casino.

“We’ve found him.” A shadowy figure spoke into his walkie-talkie.

* * *

PSM WAZF FFY OENKGK KS LELB, TPXLL QAT? YOP HGR’T PQB KEDO TF UVDI GJ YFWY FPV JRZGUUW?

22 notes · View notes

mrs-i-have-too-many-biases · 5 years

Text

A love like silk// Han Jisung pt3

Bad boy!Jisung

Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: Silk, one of the softest fabrics on the planet. It’s breathable and comfortable. Just like how he was to you. He gave you space to breath. He always made sure you were okay. Yet why, do people say he’s bad to you? He gave you a love that’s soft and tender. A love that involves soft touches, tight hugs for comfort and sweet talk, smooth like silk.

Word count: 5,2k

Warnings: Terms of bullying, signs of depressed themes (if you look well).

“Is there something I can help you with?” Y/n asked confused as Jiyeon kept moving closer to her. She was about to say something until Yasmin interrupted, dragging Y/n away from her.

“What was that?” Yasmin asked her friend as they walked back outside. “I don’t know, she suddenly started to talk to me.” “Ever since you got into this school, you’ve been getting into trouble. Like first Jisung and his little friends and now the meanest and most popular girls are after you.” Yasmin groans. “Wait, what?” Y/n said. “Jiyeon is the most popular girl in our school, well at least she was.” “What happened?” “You came to our school.” Yasmin stated. “I don’t get it.” Y/n said in confusion.

The girls stopped walking and Yasmin explained to her, that ever since she got into this school, the boys were drooling over her instead over Jiyeon like they used to do. Yasmin also told her friend that Jiyeon has been trying for years to get close with Jisung and his friends since she clearly has a crush on Jisung.

“I still don’t get it. Boys like me?” “Y/n, seriously. Can’t you see how they look at you? Only Chan and his friends are not like that though, but every other guy in our school is basically fantasising about this exotic girl from Singapore, who speaks different languages.” “So, basically they like me, because I’m a foreigner.” Y/n laughs. “Yeah, pretty much. But, also since you’re so different from other girls. Like, you don’t always wear makeup and they seem to love that. You are comfortable with literally anybody, I guess boys are into that.” Yasmin laughs as well. “Speaking about boys, shall we return to Jisung and the others.” “I guess so.”

The girls were walking back, not noticing that Jiyeon was glaring at them from behind their backs. Her blood was boiling and she stormed off before anybody could catch her like this.

Jisung had been waiting impatiently for Y/n (and Yasmin) to return, he wanted to be around her as much as possible, but he didn’t know what he could do. After lunch break was over and most of his friends had gone back to the places they had to be at, he went to his class. Something he usually didn’t do, but Y/n got this vibe around her that made him wanted to do good things. He also almost told his friends about how he babysits Hyunsun every weekend, and that that’s why he can’t always hang out.

But, he quickly shook that off as soon as they left. Even though Jisung was in class, he wasn’t paying attention. And that was like him. His mind was once again settled on Y/n. He groaned loudly in frustration, confused by his feelings. Also catching the teacher’s attention.

“Just a sore throat sir.” He would reply. ‘In what way could I get her to like me- wait hold up.’ He said to himself. He stared outside in shock, seeing that she was having PE class at the moment. His mind was blurry, making it hard to think straight. ‘Do I really like her?’ He asks himself. He looked outside once again to see you goofing around with Yasmin as you played basketball.

Jisung was smiling to himself as he watched her through the window. ‘She’s different.’ He states clearly in his head.

‘She’s not like the girls here. They secretly wear makeup and are too shy to talk to guys, when they do want their attention. Y/n on the other hand, she just talks to everybody. Even the teachers seem to like her. She’s cool.’

Jisung smiled to himself once again, getting comfortable about the thought of falling in love with her. ‘If only the boys knew.’ Jisung chuckled to himself, till he reminded something.

Jiyeon.

“It’s Jiyeon, isn’t it?” Minho had asked. “Yeah sure.” He had answered without thinking.

‘Shit.’

Jisung groaned once again, realising the trouble he had begun. Because he knew Jiyeon could find out any moment. He didn’t really like her. Yes, she had a pretty face, but she wasn’t his type. Jisung shook it off and ran out of the classroom to find Y/n, because they had English together.

“Alright class take a seat. Today we’re going to do something different. First, I’ll be testing your vocabulary by asking you to translate the English word to Korean. Second, I’ll be setting you up in pairs for a presentation you’ll have to make and present.” The class groaned loudly at the thought of having to present in front of the class.

“Sir, that’s so old school though.” One of the students tried. “Well too bad then, I’m the teacher and I get to say what you do I the class.” “Can we at least-“ “I’ll be telling more about the presentation later, now first. A test on your English vocabulary.”

Jisung had claimed a seat next to you. He was staring at you whilst he laid his head on the table. Y/n took a glance to her right where Jisung was sitting and laughed. “Is somebody tired of babysitting Hyunnie?” She cooed playfully as she caressed and pinched his cheek teasingly.

Jisung’s heart had skipped a beat by the sudden touch of her fingers. “She is a handful.” He admitted making Y/n laugh before she focused on the class again.

“What is ‘매혹적인’ (maehogjeog-in).” The teacher asked, but the class was silent.

Y/n looked around carefully, before raising her hand carefully.

“Yes, Y/n.” “It means ‘fascinating’.” “That’s right.” The teacher smiled.

The class was surprised and kept on going. Jisung was surprised as well and poked her in her side to get her attention.

“May I ask you something?” He whispers. “Sure.” “Why didn’t you tell the boys about Hyunsun?” “Well, I thought you might wanted to seem ‘manly’ in front of them. And it’s also up to you to tell them. That’s why I backed you up. Why are you asking?” She asks. “Nothing special, I was just wondering-“ “Jisung what is ‘조심해’ (josimhae) in English?” The teacher interrupted.

Jisung stared at the teacher, not knowing the answer. The teacher sighed and looked around the class for somebody who did knew the answer. You raised your hand once again and the teacher let you answer.

“It means ‘be careful’.” You answered. “Very good Y/n, you have studied abroad right?” The teacher asked you in English. “Yes, I’ve studied and lived in multiple countries.” She replied in English as well. “Very well, where have you lived?” “I’ve lived in The Netherlands, France, Singapore and some other countries.” “Heckler.” One of the students said, Y/n quite down instantly. ‘Here we go again.’ she thought to herself.

The teacher eventually gave up on the vocabulary test and explained what the presentation was about.

“You can make it about anything, but everything has to be in English. You can make a movie, just a plain PowerPoint presentation, but everything has to be in English. You can tell me your topic when you have one, I’ll give you guys until the end of the week. Now, the partners. Jisung with Y/n-“ A loud ‘what’ was screamed through the class, everybody looked around to find out it was Jiyeon.

Jisung was smirking, happy that he now had an excuse to be around her. Y/n smiled at him, making him go almost lovesick. Jiyeon on the other hand was ready to throw some hands. She went to the teacher to ask if she could change partners with Y/n, since ‘Y/n didn’t know anybody, so it wouldn’t matter.’ She had told him, but he didn’t give in, which made her whine in annoyance.

When school was over Y/n was asking herself what she was going to do today. When she was about to walk off she was turned around with a tug by Jisung. “Hello there sweet cheeks, seems like we’re partners.” He smirked subtly.

“That’s right. Do you have time today? Maybe we can brainstorm for a topic?” She suggested, making him smile. “I’ll have to cancel the boys, but they’ll be fine with it.” Jisung says as he took out his phone. She was about to protest, but he was already done texting them before she even could.

“Your place or mine?” He asked as they started walking. “I think we can work at my place, my parents are at work.” She says, without thinking about how that would sound aloud. Jisung laughed, telling her that it might be too soon for that. “N-no, I didn’t mean it like that!” She panics. “I know sweet cheeks, I’m just teasing.” Jisung winked before you kept on walking.

For some reason was Y/n nervous to have a boy in her house. Jisung gasped when he walked into your place, shocked by how big it was. “What do your parents even do for a living?” He yelled as he got overwhelmed by the size of your living room. “Well, they are both CEO’s of an international company, that’s why we’re abroad so much.” Y/n explained casually as she poured some drinks for Jisung and herself.

“You can sit down Jisung-“ She started “Are you sure? It looks expensive.” He jokes. “Shut up and just sit.” She took her laptop and started typing away.

They sat in silent for a while as they tried to come up with an idea.

“You know, I don’t even know you that well. I don’t know what you’d like to make a presentation about, if I don’t know you. So, how about we get to know each other a little more.” Jisung suggested as he leaned back on the couch. “Sure. What do you want to know?” She asked before she took a sip of her Fanta. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Jisung asked, making her spit out her drink almost. “What does that have to do with our presentation?” “You might like romance things, like Romeo and Juliet or romantic music, like love songs. I don’t know.” Jisung tried to cover up.

‘Nice job Jisung.’

“I do like romance, but no. I do not have a boyfriend. But, what do you think about music?” Y/n suggests. “That sounds great. We can compose a song together.” He said without a thought. “Calm down pretty boy, I can’t write music. I do play instrument, but I can’t compose.” “But I can.” Jisung admitted shyly, making her look at him in shock. “Really?” She asked surprised. “Yeah.” “That’s so cool! Is that what you do with Minho, Woojin and the others?” “H-how do you know, did they tell you? We never tell anybody about this kind of stuff.” He stuttered. “No, I just figured. That’s so cool Jisung! Can I hear something you made?” She asked him excitedly.

Nobody had ever been so excited about his music before besides the guys, not even his own parents. And it shocked him. It felt nice thought, having somebody like that.

“I-I don’t have anything on me right now, m-maybe you can come along with me when we’ll compose something?” He stammered. “Really? That would be so cool! I would love that!” Y/n clapped her hands in excitement, making Jisung chuckle at her cuteness. “Cute.” He mumbled under his breath. “What?” “What?”

After an hour or two the two of them were done with homework and decided to get something to eat. “Can’t your chef make something for us?” Jisung had joked as he saw the size of her kitchen. Y/n laughed before she pushed him outside, because she was hungry.

They found a pizza place and decided to eat there. They ordered a big cheese pizza and shared it together. And for some reason, the two ended up making each other cringe with lame pickup lines.

“Hey, you’re pretty and I’m cute. Together we’d be pretty cute.” He says as he smirked at you. “I would take you to the movies but they don’t allow snacks.” You shot back. “Was your father a thief? Because someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.” He told her, making her giggle. “I'm new in town. Could you give me directions to your apartment?” He started once again. “Jisung, first of all, I live in a house. And you know the directions to it.” “Guess it worked then.” He laughed making her shake her head in disbelief. ‘This boy I swear to God.’ She thought. “Sorry, but you owe me a drink. Why? Because when I looked at you, I dropped mine.” You smiled sweetly as Jisung started laughing loudly, congratulating you as he gave up on the contest. “Thank you. Thank you!” She said dramatically as she bowed.

After sitting at the booth, just talking together and having a good time. You two were suddenly interrupted by an familiar voice. “Jisung?” It was Chan.

“Oh hey!” She greeted cheerfully, still high from hers and Jisung’s laughing fit. Chan didn’t return the smile and stared at her without an expression on his face. “Chan what are you doing here?” Jisung asks as he looked up to his older friend. “I think I could ask you the same thing. I thought you had a study session.” Chan barked. The tension that hung in the air was taking Jisung and Y/n by surprise. “We did, we just came down here to get some food.” Y/n said. Chan just hummed before he looked at Jisung. “Seems like you only studied one another’s face.” Chan mumbled. Jisung sighed and Y/n sat uncomfortably.

Jisung excused him and Chan before he dragged him outside of Y/n’s sight. “What’s going on with you?” Jisung hissed. “What’s going on with me? I could ask you the same question. I understand that you have to cancel plans for school, since education is important. But, I don’t liked being lied to. Especially, when it’s about a girl. What happened to ‘bros before hoes’?” Chan snapped back. “Look, first of all she’s not just some girl, okay? We were actually working on our English project together. But, her parents weren’t home and we were hungry. So, we came down here.” Jisung explained. “Alright, that might be. But, just make sure she’s not getting into your head too much. We got attacked today by some random guys.” Chan admitted.

Jisung’s eyes widened asking Chan what happened. “I don’t know what happened. Some guys attacked us out of the blue. Jeongin got hurt and Seungmin has some bruises on his head. And not to make you feel guilty or anything, we kind of needed you today. This could’ve ended up really bad if our neighbour didn’t come in between us.” Jisung sighed and decided to do what was smart: he went to see if his friends were okay.

He quickly walked back to Y/n who was patiently waiting for him to return. She flashed him a smile, which disappeared quickly when she saw the worried expression on Jisung’s face. “What’s wrong Ji-“ “I’m sorry. I need to go right now. The boys need me. I’ll pay you back for the food tomorrow at school.” He said quickly. “Y-yeah sure. You don’t have to though. I ate most of it. But, you go it seems like it’s serious.” Y/n said worried shooing Jisung off.

Jisung ran off with Chan to wherever they needed to be. Y/n sighed in slight disappointment before she paid the bill.

The walk back home was boring, she liked being around Jisung. He made things fun. It then suddenly started to rain softly and Y/n felt her mood switch a little. She tried to focus on the nice day she had with Jisung as she walked back home.

When she had arrived she noticed an unfamiliar backpack laying on her couch, it was Jisung’s. She thought about calling him, but she texted him instead. Saying that she’ll return it to him at school tomorrow. She gathered all his stuff and packed the bag. She also noticed a shirt that was folded neatly inside his bag. It was a band T-shirt but she had never heard of them. ‘3Racha?’ Y/n thought to herself. ‘Like the sauce?’ She laughed to herself before she put it back.

The next day was Y/n waiting for Jisung in front of the school. Yasmin had given her friend weird looks, since she held two bags. “Are you running away from home?” Yasmin joked. Y/n laughed, before telling her friend that it wasn’t hers.

When Jisung had arrived, late as usual, he was surprised to see Y/n waiting for him. He thought she looked cute. She wore a baby blue long sleeved shirt that was quite too big for her, stuffed into her black ripped jeans as she looked around to kill time it seemed. Jisung noticed his bag that was in his bag and remembered that his shirt was in it. He hoped she didn’t see it, she might be asking questions about it.

“Hello there sweet cheeks.” “Hey ‘Sungie! I have your bag.” She chirped as she handed the bag over. “Aren’t you late for your class?” Jisung asked. “I could ask you the same thing.” Y/n laughed. “Were you able to handle your business with Chan and the others?” Jisung jumped in surprise when she asked him. “Did you hear?” Jisung asked carefully. “No, but I saw that you were worried, so I assumed it was about your friends.” “It was actually. Somebody fought the boys and they got hurt, so I went to check up on them.”

“Oh my- are they alright?” Y/n asked, now she was also worried. “Yes, but Jeongin’s injuries are the worst out of all of them. He broke his left wrist and he has a lot of bruises on his head. They apparently knew he was the youngest and also quite vulnerable, so they attacked him first.” “That’s awful.” Y/n said, before they walked into their classroom. Apparently the teacher was late, so they were in luck, not having to go to detention.

The day went on quite smoothly, if you leave chemistry out of the story. Jisung thought it would be smart to turn the gas of the flame as high as possible, almost burning his eyebrows off as he hung above it. Y/n screeched loudly when it happened, clinging onto him as she was worried that he got hurt. Jisung on the other hand was laughing his ass off. Y/n would hit him whilst whining that it wasn’t funny. “You’re cute when you’re worried about me Sweet cheeks.” Jisung winked making her blush harshly.

Jisung was standing against the lockers as Y/n was gathering the books she needed. Jisung looked around and saw his friends walking past him, who didn’t even bother looking at him. Y/n noticed that it bothered Jisung. He hadn’t talked to his friends all day and when they had lunch he sat with her and Yasmin.

“Jisung, are you sure you’re alright? I noticed you’re acting a little different than usual.” Y/n wondered.

“They boys seemed quite mad. Especially Chan when he caught us at the restaurant. But, you shouldn’t worry about it sweetheart.” Jisung stood up and petted her head before he walked off to the toilet.

Y/n sat on her own as she waited for her friends to return. She was minding her business as she kept her attention on her phone, when suddenly a figure blocked the sun in front of her, making her look up. “Hello again outsider.” Jiyeon spat as she stood there with her friends in front of Y/n. “Can I help you Jiyeon?” “You actually can. I told you to stay away from Jisung you fucking witch.” “And as you can see, I don’t care about what you say. You can’t boss me around.” Y/n stood strong. She knew how girls like Jiyeon were like. They loved to look down to other people to make themselves feel better. They seemed to life off this kind of ‘power’ and Y/n couldn’t despise people like this more than anything.

“Listen up you brat. I don’t think you know how we work in this school. I don’t care how your other schools were like and what your status was. You don’t belong here. You’re just a nobody to us. You’ll never be on our level. Just let Jisung be. You’re not his type honey.” Jiyeon’s group of friends laughed behind her, but Y/n was not impressed. She just stared at Jiyeon with a smirk.

Words like this, coming from her wasn’t going to work on her. And Jisung noticed too. She turned crazy to be honest. Through the years she got used to them, she would consider herself immune. Jiyeon started pushing Y/n as she kept screaming filthy words in her face. The teachers seemed nowhere to be found and people were gathering around the scene, not even bothering on helping Y/n.

‘Five against one? Seems pretty unfair.’ Y/n thought to herself as she was pushed around.

“I honestly don’t know what makes you so stupid Y/n, but it sure it working.”

Before Y/n could say anything a thick substance was poured over he and thrown into her face. Y/n was now raging and attacked one of the girls by grabbing her by her hair. The girl screamed in pain and in disgust as the smoothie that was thrown on Y/n landed on her as well.

Meanwhile as Jisung walked out of the guys’ bathroom he heard people running around. He didn’t think much of it, as he was lost in a train of thoughts. ‘What if Y/n did see the shirt, would she have looked up the group? No, she wouldn’t, right? She’d look cute in it though- wait what.’ As he kept on walking his ears caught somebody saying that Y/n and Mina were fighting. Jisung ran along with the others. He saw the two girls fight and also a teacher who showed up to separate the two.

Jisung noticed that Y/n was covered in a pink substance and he walked up to her. The closer he got, the more visible Jiyeon’s smirk was. He knew she was the cause of this. The teacher was scolding the girls, but Jisung decided to take Y/n away from the scene before it would get any worse, not that that was possible though.

Jisung had dragged Y/n into the nurse’s office and helped her clean up. “Thanks ‘Sungie.” She whispered. As he dried her now-washed hair. “Your welcome. Wait here, I’ll get your something else to change into. Your shirt it all wet. I don’t want you to get sick.” He said in a serious manner before he ran off.

Before Y/n knew it, he had returned with a shirt. Y/n recognised it, it was the shirt that he left in his backpack. “Here, wear this.” He laid the folded shirt on her lap before he walked out once again so she could change this time.

Not much later she called him back inside and he had to contain himself from screaming. She looked absolutely adorably in his big shirt. It was a simple black shirt, long sleeved, and there was a logo on it that said ‘3Racha’. “Isn’t this yours ‘Sungie?” Y/n asked as Jisung was back in the room. “H-how do you know?” He stutters. “I saw it in your bag last night when you left your bag at my place.” “I didn’t know you saw it.” “Why? Is it special or something?” Y/n asks playfully. “Something like that.” Jisung admitted. “It’s a small group that I’m part of.” Jisung added shyly to Y/n’s surprise. “Really? I didn’t know you were a rapper!” “Nobody does, so please keep it down about it, alright?”

Y/n agreed without asking any further questions, except to herself. ‘If he’s a rapper. Why wouldn’t he want to be successful? What if he’s really good? I wonder what his voice would be like.’

When Y/n’s hair had dried up and she felt like walking back into school again, the day went on. Lots of boys asked her if she was alright and if she needed anything, she should call them. She didn’t of course. She was flattered and touched by their offer and took them politely, but she didn’t needed other boys’ help when she got Jisung right beside her.

Y/n felt fuzzy inside. The way he took care of her out of nowhere took her by surprise and it made her heart race. Never had anyone done something like that for her besides Yasmin. Y/n smiled as she walked next to Jisung, thankful that he sat down next to her that one day.

It was the second period break and Y/n sat alone at a table. She noticed Jisung’s friends, who still had been avoiding Jisung himself all day, they were staring at her. Or what their eyes made it belief, they stared at her chest. Y/n shifted uncomfortably as she continued to eat, until once again a figure stood in front of her.

Automatically assuming it was Jiyeon, Y/n was about to snap, but then she noticed that it was Woojin and Chan. “Sorry, I thought you were Jiyeon.” Y/n laughs slightly as she scratches the back of her head. “What about Jiyeon?” Woojin asks. “Just drama. Can I help you by the way? I saw you staring towards my direction-“ “Where did you get that shirt?” Chan asks bluntly. “I-I borrowed it from Jisung-“ “Where is he?” Chan cuts her off once again. “He has class right now, but he might be skipping- never mind he’s gone.” Y/n sighs as Chan had left in the middle of the conversation.

Woojin gave Y/n a small smile before sitting across from her. He looked around the canteen and noticed everybody looking her way. “They know.” Woojin states. “They know what?” “That you’re wearing Jisung’s shirt, I can see the jealousy on the girls’ faces.” Woojin laughs as he saw Jiyeon’s angry face.

Y/n was confused with Woojin’s statement until she took a look around herself, he was right. “This shirt, it’s your group right?” Y/n softly asks. Woojin looks at her in shock and as he opened his mouth, no words came out. “He told you?” He finally could make out. “Yeah, you guys have a music group right?” “Well, ‘3Racha’ is a group that Jisung, Chan and Changbin are part of. They are the rappers.” Woojin explains. “Did he tell you anything else perhaps?” Woojin wondered. “No, why?” “Nothing, just wondering.”

Meanwhile Woojin and Y/n were talking and having lunch, Chan was storming through the hallways to find Jisung. And just like Chan and Y/n had predicted, he was skipping class. Chan found the younger boy in the back of the library, taking a nap.

Chan roughly moves the arm of the younger boy, which his head was resting on, making his head fall onto the table. Jisung groans as he woke up. “What was that for- Chan?” “Why is she wearing our shirt?” “What-“ “Y/n, I just spoke to her and she’s wearing a ‘3Racha’ shirt.” Chan snapped at Jisung who was rubbing his eyes. “Oh, yeah. That’s my shirt.” “No shit Sherlock. But why is she wearing that. You know what name that name gave us.” Chan hisses. “You remember what happened that night. You were there. Years later we’ve been trying to clear our name. Do you know what this could do to us?” Chan ranted. “Alright, I get it. I’m sorry. Y/n got into a nasty fight and they poured their drinks on her and I gave her my shirt since she didn’t had anything else to wear with her.” Jisung explains. “Why couldn’t you get a clean shirt at the nurse’s office?”

“I-“

‘I thought she’d look better in my clothes.’

“I didn’t think about it.”

“I thought it was kind of sad you know, she looked quite helpless and everybody was surrounding her and not even helping her at all. So, I stepped in and dragged her out of there.” Jisung says as he received a glance that meant ‘disbelief’.

When they boys had walked back to the canteen, Y/n had already left to her class. Jisung decided to skip another period, since his friends were here. Chan eventually went to the toilet and Jisung was left behind with Woojin. Woojin analysed the younger boy’s actions. He noticed that Jisung was texting Y/n, what he could read were texts saying things like: ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Wanna meet up after school or something?’

Woojin smiled to himself and Jisung noticed. “It’s nothing.” Woojin tried to shrug it off when Jisung asked what’s wrong.

“’Sup guys!” A familiar voice yelled through the canteen. “Minho! What are you doing here?” “I was planning on setting Jisung and Jiyeon up.” Minho grins. “W-what?” Jisung chokes on his drink when he hears the sentence leaving Minho’s mouth. “Yeah, you told us you liked her, but it seems like you aren’t making any moves. So, I’m here to change that.” “What do you mean?” Jisung questioned. “Well, I spoke to Jiyeon and you two have a date. When? I don’t know. You can figure that one out yourself. You can thank me later. For now, I have to pee. I’ll be back.”

Woojin once again analysed Jisung’s actions and facial expressions and Woojin could conclude that Jisung didn’t wanted to go on a date with Jiyeon. That’s when Woojin figured it out. Jisung liked Y/n.

“You like Y/n, don’t you?” Woojin blurts out, making Jisung try to hush him in panic. “How do you know- I mean I don’t?” “Please, you gave her your shirt. I remember your last girlfriend. You wouldn’t even let he borrow her your scarf and she was freezing.” Woojin states. “It was mid spring time and she was sick. Besides, that was my favourite scarf I wasn’t searching for any germs at the time.” Jisung explained. “Your girlfriend before that one took one of your hoodies without asking and you flipped.” “That was my-“ “Let me guess, ‘favourite hoodie’? C’mon Jisung, I caught you, just admit it.” Woojin chuckles.

Jisung sighs as he let his head down in defeat, making Woojin laugh louder. “It’s too late though.” Jisung says softly. “What?” Jisung didn’t say anything but just nodded in Chan and Minho’s direction who were returning. “Why is it too late though?” Woojin asks quickly. Jisung showed Woojin a text, send around the time Y/n was still having lunch. It was from Jiyeon, claiming that were going on a date.

“Drama is about to start.” Jisung mumbles.

#han jisung #han jisung au #han jisung fluff #han jisung imagine #han jisung angst #stray kids #stray kids jisung #stray kids imagines #skz #stray kids oneshots #oneshot #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #fluff #angst #stray kids han #han jisung boyfriend

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clamorbelli · 5 years

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hey lovelies ! i’m jaz, & i’m here to enter ur lives with my incessant use of the exclamation point & love hearts !!! <3 <3 <3 i love videogames, milkshakes, and i’m currently melting in this uk heat since i’m a simple winter child. pls excuse the parts of my blog that are still messy af, i’m slowly sorting out stats, nav, etc ( all the boring bits ) and trying to make it all look semi-presentable, so whilst i do that there are some key points about my two babies, angelo and noelle, under the cut. i apologise in advance for how long these got! pls don’t hate me ok i’m bad at pArApHrAsInG.

like this if you’d like to plot or feel free to message me either through my ims or on my discord – arcanine#0252 !

◟ * ◊ ─ benjamin wadsworth + cismale + he/him » * believe it or not angelo belongs to the mancini family. they are 19 years of age and are known to usually spend their time around magnolia’s coffee shop. the college dropout has been living in victoria for his entire life. the people closest to them describe the heterosexual + capricorn to be +placid and +tenacious as well as -calculated and -faultfinding » ◦ ° jaz, twenty-two, she/her, gmt◝

trigger warnings: death, suicide mention.

meet angelo ! more commonly known as angel by his late mother and those in his super inner circle. youngest of the mancini clan, and now 1/2 of the remaining duo, he’s dropped out of college to keep a close eye on rocco and the family estate in general.

i’ll put more about his past in his biography, since i’d ideally wanna’ iron all the details first, but he was a massive momma’s boy and always has been despite her problems. all you really need to know for plotting is that he’s been in victoria his entire life, except –––

from when he went to college last year !!! wow ! smart boy. angelo actually got accepted into MIT to study biomedical engineering, and for the year or so he was able to attend, he was incredibly passionate. he hated being away from his mom at the time, but he never let it show, as he did with most things.

when she died in late 2018, after only a few months of angelo being enrolled, he was a mess behind closed doors. he found it hard to cope, and even harder to come to terms with the fact he hadn’t been there for her in her final moments, even if it was self-caused. however, not knowing his father’s own mental state, angelo chose to stay in massachusetts, planning to come home for the funeral and that alone.

the news of his father’s suicide came not long after, though angelo’s reaction to that was far less visceral. he chose to come home only for a week, to see how his brother was and to attend funerals and events, mind falling straight into business mode and making sure to give his brother a long list of things he needed to keep an eye on. angelo had faith that rocco would handle things for the next two years whilst he graduated. things fell apart quick.

he continued to attend MIT for as long as he could, but news of rocco’s lifestyle and attitude always slinked its way down the grapevine to angelo, the nineteen year old boy at the university of his dreams. for him, a loyal mancini til’ the grave and a child who’d lost his mother, the choice to drop out of university wasn’t difficult. he left at the end of his first year, at the end of june, and has been home ever since. the staff tried to stop him, his circle of friends tried to stop him, but the choice had been made. he was going back to victoria.

does he resent his brother for what he’s had to do? not at all, he could never resent his best friend, but angelo would be lying if he said victoria was where he wanted to be. he’s now working closely with the current family accountant, being alongside him so he can keep the closest eye possible on the family finances and know what kind of deals and discussions he can afford possible business partners. it’s not surprising most turn their noses up at a nineteen year old trying to make business deals, but most are thrown onto their asses when he speaks.

PERSONALITY –––

angel is... kinda difficult? but also compared to his brother, he’s super easy to deal with. he’s a bit icy, but he doesn’t do it to ‘keep people away’ or anything like that, it’s just his natural demeanour, and he always appreciates people who aren’t bothered by his cool attitude at first and are willing to forge a friendship with him of some kind, though his persona in general naturally rubs people the wrong way.

he’s incredibly calm, and there’s very little that can be said or done to provoke any kind of reaction related to anger out of him.

he doesn’t like failure, but he is of the mindset that it makes you better as a person. however he despises people who let their failures or traumas affect them massively as people, so much so to the point where it affects their success. that’s one thing angelo has inherited from his father, his drive. his greed for succeeding. money isn’t the goal here, power is.

he’s practically a prodigy. his intelligence is off the scale and whilst 50% of that is natural ability, the other 50% is his own hard work and diligence. he’s not afraid to let you know how smart he is, nor will he accept anyone trying to tell him he’s only where he is because of his family. he seriously works his ass off, so much so you’d forget his family’s already wealthy and think he’s gone some kind of debt to pay off. angel’s always working on something, always scribbling away some kind of idea in his notebooks or planning something.

literally never stops pointing out faults in other people, thanks angel.

tends to think entirely with his head and is good at pushing emotion out of the equation 99% of the time. he’s very, very logical, plans pretty much all of his day, every day. spontaneity isn’t a word in his vocabulary and he doesn’t think his life is any worse off without it.

he has a penchant for pastries and good coffee and so you can nearly always find him these days at magnolia’s coffee shop. he enjoys his own company and therefore is usually alone, but won’t turn down the company of a friend so long as they don’t speak. at all.

◟ * ◊ ─ phoebe tonkin + cisfemale + she/her » * believe it or not noelle mercier is working for the bianchi family. they are 28 years of age and are known to usually spend their time around crystal woods. the escort, who has been a part of the alliance for 3 years, has been living in victoria for 4 years. the people closest to them describe the bisexual + pisces to be +tenderhearted and +intuitive as well as -pithless and -elusive » ◦ ° jaz, twenty-two, she/her, gmt◝

trigger warnings: death, sex work, suicidal thoughts, predatory behaviour, murder.

disclaimer: noelle’s soft. as fuck.

she was born in the south of france to two very french parents. she grew up there for most of her young life, living idyllically with little care. she was brought up to be kind and compassionate. her mother ran a sanctuary for local, injured wildlife and her father was a passionate journalistic photographer who travelled the world. she was exposed to culture, love, and nature when she was younger, and it shows to this day.

life was not to be all sunshine and rainbows for noelle. at sixteen, her father got caught up in a warzone, shot in action and killed on the spot. noelle’s mother experienced a complete psychotic breakdown, unable to look after herself, let alone noelle. the young girl watched, helpless, as the woman she had admired for so many years disappeared, taking the final memories of her beloved father with her. noelle was sent to live with her aunt in america, a continent that didn’t favour girls as gentle as her.

she quickly realised her only friend and ally in this new place was her cousin, louisa. her aunt was a horrible, hard woman who seemed to hate both of the girls with a seething passion, and her uncle leered at noelle whenever he could, copping feels and whispering inappropriate nothings into her ear. noelle and louisa protected each other, spent most of their nights out, eventually finding trouble.

noelle met him when she was on the brink of turning eighteen. maybe that’s what he used to justify it in a state where the age of consent was 16. robert misfer was rich. he was the diamond in their city. he paid for everything and anything anyone could ever want. he got whatever he wanted, and he wanted noelle. she was young, she was impressionable, and she fell so madly in love with someone she thought was her prince. they dated for four years when she should’ve been with boys her age. he had a wife and kids. she had her high school diploma. he put her through university. she answered his every beck and call. louisa tried her best to stop her, but what could she say? robert took noelle from the prying eyes of her uncle. in noelle��s eyes, they weren’t the same.

sometime during this whole ordeal robert bought noelle and louisa an apartment, allowing them their independence at the cost of noelle’s dignity.

until one day, robert disappeared. he had moved away with his family the day after noelle’s graduation. she was destroyed. she couldn’t do anything for weeks straight, louisa could do nothing except convince her to keep living – and eventually, she began to recover.

that was when louisa revealed a secret – cam work. noelle was in a bad place, she was a beautiful young woman who felt unloved and unwanted, so louisa suggested she cam on the side for cash. louisa didn’t realise just how desperate noelle was for love, the love she had replaced with the attention she gained from her fans.

she worked as a cam girl for years, doing it partly for the money, partly for the enjoyment she got from feeling empowered, and partly for the toxic reason of finally being able to get the affection and attention she wanted. she loved being a cam girl, it was her whole life, until word got out in their neighbourhood.

they shunned noelle. treated her as if she should’ve been ashamed of what she’d been doing despite the fact they all did much worse behind closed doors. she withdrew into herself again for a week, stopped streaming completely and closed down her account. it rocked her fanbase but noelle could hardly cope. she wasn’t built to receive criticism like this, especially criticism for something that had brought her so much joy, something she saw nothing wrong with.

it all came to a head one night. noelle had locked herself in her room when her aunt and uncle came to their apartment, demanding to see her and berate her for what she’d done. louisa stood at the front door, defiant, radiant, beautifully strong... but she was no match for their horrendous uncle, her own father, who beat his own daughter with his bare hands until she couldn’t breathe. noelle witnessed it all, had left her room when she heard the screams, held her cousin – no, her sister – in her arms as she died on their living room floor. her uncle had disappeared by the time the police arrived, and once the police themselves learned of noelle’s job? they could barely afford her a drop of respect. louisa’s death went unpunished. the world continued revolving. noelle was lost.

the harassment eventually got so bad that she had no choice but to move, but where was she even supposed to start? it’s not like she had any family anymore, all of her friends had long since abandoned her to avoid the fallout of knowing her, and the last boyfriend she’d had... well, we all know how that went. it wasn’t until she stumbled upon an old newspaper clipping tucked away in her cousins belongings that she knew where to go – victoria.

as morbid as it was, the newspaper clipping described the deaths of fifty of the victoria residents at the bronze, and noelle knew immediately it was where she needed to be. no one would judge her there. it was a place seeped full of history that people daren’t speak of. it was somewhere she could hide, and that’s what noelle did best.

she successfully moved to victoria four years ago, where she finally restarted her cam girl career. eventually, after a year, someone involved with the bianchi family sought her out and offered her the job of a lifetime. not only was noelle protected as an escort, she earned much more money. whilst in her day to day life she was still awkward and shy, her camming allowed her to separate her job from her personal life, letting her focus on her goal of making people happy and making her a very effective escort.

she loves animals! loves nature! wiccan! this will all be in her stats but like !!!! U NEED TO KNOW !!!!!

PERSONALITY –––

noelle, despite everything, is perhaps the most tenderhearted person you could meet. she’s gentle, trusting, and patient. she treats everyone as if they’re the most precious person in the world and looks at everything with a sense of wonder and amazement. she’s v generous, just loves !!! helping people !!!

wishes she was a princess and is waiting for a prince to sweep her off her feet. i’m not joking. literally loves love and romanticises everything like jesus shut up noelle please.

she has no backbone. her parents, and then louisa, were her backbone for her entire life, protecting her and coddling her until it was too late for her to develop a spine of her own. she allows people to walk all over her with no consequence, lets them use her until there is nothing of her left, and she’s the one forced to rebuild. but it doesn’t matter, if the other person is happy, that’s all noelle wants.

she’s surprisingly elusive and distant about her past. whilst her warmth radiates into every part of her life and other people’s lives, noelle... doesn’t talk about her past, where she’s from, and if the conversation ever veers that way she’s a pro at steering it differently. no one ever thinks anything of it because of how open she seems to be, but truthfully she’s incredibly private, nobody truly knows much about her of worth at all.

she’s pretty emotional (shock) and cries a fairly decent amount. she doesn’t deal well with being shouted at or scolded, but she does well at hiding her tears in those situations and has learned to separate that from when people are genuinely pissed at her. she cries more when people are in pain, are upset, or if someone’s genuinely hurt her.

that’s it

it’s over

thank god

#❛ · ˚ . — 𝒗𝒊. casey frey fan club! › out of character.#victoireintro #love island is on !!!! i'm distracted !! forgive me !

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relto · 4 years

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occasionally i come across passages in whatever im practicing korean with at the moment and there are like 1-2 sentences i can read effortlessly, its such a kick

#tütensuppe #im still way behind with my vocabulary but its paying off already #writing a word down first and then revising it on paper seems to be a real good way to remember it

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yoon-kooks · 6 years

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Two Tones of a Tabby- pt.I

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Bildungsroman, Idol!Taehyung

Summary: Upon graduating from university, you embark on your first and last summer adventure to explore the wonders of the world with complete independence before becoming confined to a cubicle when autumn begins. But as fate would have it, a chance encounter with a troubled idol in search of his own kind of freedom threatens the solo aspect of your trip.

Word Count: 2.4k

Parts: I II III IV V

A/N: this was supposed to be a lengthy oneshot, but i guess itll be another series instead (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ and im screaming at myself for being extra enough to write bildungsroman as the genre. it’s basically just a fancy term for coming-of-age and the longest word in my vocabulary LMAO.

T is for Taehyung

“travel diary entry #1- it’s 5pm, been stuck at incheon since like 6 in the morning and nothing remotely interesting has happened because this is a fucking airport. if there’s one more flight delay, i think i’m going to combust.”

With a sigh, you drop your pen between the first two pages of your journal to reveal a red cover with tiny tigers running across it. The first spontaneous purchase of your vacation is already proving its worth through the countless flight delays you’ve had to endure thus far. Your mother would’ve told the younger version of yourself not to waste money on a journal at an overpriced airport kiosk unless you were going to write in every single page from beginning to end. Maybe you wouldn’t have made use of such a sentimental object as a child, but as time went on, you’ve grown. Besides, no one’s here to stop you and your rash decisions. You’re on your own.

Or so you think.

All at once, a rush of humans and cameras flood the airport walkway that had been otherwise quiet for the past 11 hours. You notice some young folks get up from their seats with their phone cameras ready to get a better view of whoever it is. A celebrity? You’d get up off your ass to check out what the big deal is, but honestly, you have no idea what all the youngsters are into nowadays. Maybe that’s your own fault for paying more attention to your studies and workload than pop culture and current events. So you decide to stay back and eat your slice of pizza that had gone cold as you were busy writing.

Even from afar, you can see the huge moving cluster of people and bombardment of camera flashes. Is that even legal? Does personal space not exist when you’re a celebrity? Do celebrities ever grow tired of not being able to live freely? Those are the thoughts you have as you munch on your dinner.

Mid-bite, you watch as a black mullet pops up from the crowd with a few sleepy waves. You could swear, for just an instant, he makes eye contact with you, the only person sitting that far away from the chaos. His dark eyes reflect something more—something beyond what the rest of his nonchalant body language shows. With half of your pizza hanging out of your mouth, you give him a polite wave with crumby fingers, although you’re sure he had already looked away by then.

And just like that, the airport finds peace once more. You wonder if you should pull out your journal and write another entry about your fateful encounter with an unknown celebrity who accidentally made eye contact with you for 0.3 seconds.

Beep! “Attention: Now boarding, Flight 1230.” You leap off your seat as soon as you hear that your flight hasn’t been delayed for the thousandth time. Checking twice to make sure you aren’t leaving any of your belongings behind, you lug your carry-on bag with you to the boarding area.

Finally, your solo trip has begun.

Once you’re settled into your seat on the plane, you try to remember what the fuck you were thinking about before boarding. Ah yes, your eye contact with Mr. Celebrity. How could you forget?

You dig through your bag and pull out your tiger journal. For a good minute, you just stare at it, having an internal debate on whether or not to waste a page on another dumb event at the airport. Nah. It’s too late now. Maybe if he was a celebrity you knew, your heart would’ve leapt, and only then would it be worth recording into your journal. But you’d rather leave space for memories that perhaps hold more weight to you.

All that remains engraved in your mind from the occurrence are the boy’s eyes. They were fill with darkness as if they were hiding a secret of some sort, and he had awfully beautiful eyelashes that could be seen from a mile away. So for the sake of it, you draw just his eyelashes, which look mildly creepy on their own beneath your entry on the flight delays.

For the rest of the flight, you try to rid yourself of that one instance and get some rest, but for some reason, it’s more difficult than it should be. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as someone with a carefree personality, little things like this actually bug you quite a bit.

Something about the whole thing is unsettling. You aren’t sure if it’s because of the bombardment of cameras, the lack of personal space, the troubled look in the boy’s eyes, or the fact that that was the most action you’d gotten all day. But nonetheless, something just feels off.

Perhaps the only way you’re able to find peace is by telling yourself that there’s nothing you can do about it. The boy doesn’t know you, you don’t know him, and that’s that. You just want to enjoy your trip and not have to worry about anything—especially not a boy.

So you close your eyes and dream of all the yummy food you’ll eat over the course of your adventures. That's the only travel plan you have so far. Everything else will happen as it comes.

After the long flight, the first thing you do is stretch and breath in some fresh air. The sky is blue and the morning sun is radiating down on your jet-lagged body. As much as you’d love to find a hotel to rid yourself of your bulky luggage and take a nap, you don’t have time for that. You’re eager to explore, and that alone is already more than enough to energize your mind and soul.

You wander around the streets in search of the no.1 thing on your mind: food. Rather than use a GPS or Yelp, you leave it up to your intuition and stomach. And somehow, you’re led into an empty café with fancy coffees and desserts.

To give off the least amount of touristy vibes, you shove your luggage beneath the table for two and begin to browse your food options. You lowkey want to eat everything that’s pictured on the menu, but you have to remind yourself that you still have a long trip ahead of you, so there’ll most definitely be plenty of other opportunities for good food. After careful consideration, you settle on an iced mocha and a slice of strawberry sponge cake. A caffeine and sugar rush can’t hurt.

As you wait for your food, you wonder why the café is so empty. Perhaps it has a bad review on Yelp and you would’ve known that if you’d just checked your phone. Maybe the food quality is shit, or maybe the service is terrible, or maybe they know something that you don’t. Oops.

But it takes less than five minutes for your food to be served with Instagram-quality presentation. The strawberry sponge cake looks moist and delicate with pink flower sprinkles that glisten in the sunlight, and the mocha has a cute kitten drawn on the handcrafted foam. But to be honest, you kind of care more about the taste—which is also surprisingly quite delicious by your standards.

You suppose you shouldn’t worry as long as the food tastes good, so you pull out your journal again and write another entry as you enjoy your breakfast.

“travel diary entry #2: got off the plane, stopped at a cute café with no one in it, which is lowkey shady, but whatever. the food tastes good lol. oh and the mocha has a kitten drawn on it to match the tigers on this journal. is this what they call fate?? LMAO jkjkjkjkjk-”

“I’ll order what that customer is eating—except no coffee, please,” a soft and mellow voice interrupts your train of thought. You had been so absorbed in your food and writing that you didn’t realize another customer had appeared. Maybe the café isn’t so shady after all. Your intuition hasn’t failed you.

As you take a sip of your mocha, you casually glance over at the table across from where you’re seated and nearly spit out your entire drink—not because it tastes bad, but because you recognize the long eyelashes. It’s the eyelash boy from the airport.

Between bites of your cake, you keep sneaking peeks at the boy, who’s actually a lot more handsome now that you can see his features up close. With his loosely styled hair, his expensive yet questionable taste in fashion, and his gorgeous looks, there’s no doubt he holds some sort of fame status.

Apparently you’ve stared for too long because he catches you and deadass rolls his eyes. As if you’re doing something wrong.

“If you’re waiting for an autograph or something, you aren’t getting one,” he finally says to you. An autograph? You don’t even know who the fuck this guy is, and he thinks you want his autograph?

“Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes at the celebrity.

“I know you’re one of the fans from the airport. You waved at me with pizza hanging out of your mouth.” You’re half embarrassed by the fact that he witnessed The Great Pizza Incident, and half offended by the fact that he called you a “fan”. Because you’re certainly no fan of his.

“Last time I checked, I was sitting at this café before you, so there’s no need for you to assume I’m one of your crazed fans who follow you around everywhere.”

“And yet, somehow out of all the places in the world, you happen to travel to the same exact city as me,” he scoffs. “Don’t pretend like this is a coincidence.” His thick-skulled ass doesn’t believe you, and you can’t believe it. What did you do to deserve this?

“If you think I somehow found your schedule and took this vacation for the sole purpose of seeing my favorite celebrity, then you’re either paranoid or way too conceited,” you say. “I don’t even know who you are, or why there were so many fans chasing you around the airport. I’m just here to enjoy my trip, so leave me the fuck out of your problems.” It comes out a little harsher than you’d like, but hopefully it’ll get the point across that you aren’t a fan blinded by love.

Out of shock, the boy just blinks at you. He’s probably not used to being scolded straight to his pretty face. But he deserved it, and to your surprise, he apologizes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take out my frustrations on you,” he pulls back and bites his lip, “especially when you chose to stay away from the airport chaos.” At least he’s willing to own up to his mistakes.

“It’s fine… I’m not actually that mad… I just didn’t want to be wrongly accused of being a stalker, you know?” You soften your expression to ease the tension. “Besides, I’m sure it happens to you all the time.”

He nods in silence as he stares down at his strawberry cake. It seems celebrities do get overwhelmed and sick of living with no privacy. Maybe this boy just happens to have reached his tipping point.

“Look, I’m sorry you have to deal with constant bullshit like that. Everyone deserves the freedom and space to do whatever they wish (as long as it’s legal),” you say, finishing off your last bite of cake. “That’s actually the reason I decided to take this solo vacation—to take time away for myself!” You aren’t sure why you share this last bit of information with the boy, especially when you hadn’t told any friend or family about your spontaneous trip, but it just feels right to let him know that he’s not the only one in search of a liberation of some sort.

“I wish I could be a free spirit like you,” he chuckles for the first time, and it’s really fucking cute. “Maybe that’s why I’m taking this trip too—to loosen up a bit and do what I want, rather than conform to what the world expects of me.”

“Well you aren’t off to a great start, to be honest,” you tease him as you receive the bill from your waiter. As soon as you see how much you have to pay, your mouth forms a big O because you realize why the café is so empty. It costs you a lot more than you’d like to spend on some coffee and cake. But despite the overpriced food, you don’t feel terrible about your stay.

Just as you’re about to get up to pay at the register, you’re blocked by the boy who’s suddenly trying to act like a gentleman. “Let me pay for it… as an apology for interrupting your breakfast. And by the way, who eats cake for breakfast?”

“You ordered the same thing as me!” This guy is unbelievable, but also amusing. “And it’s fine. I may not be a celebrity like you, but I can pay for my own food. Thanks anyway, Mr. Celebrity.” You smile at him before making your payment at the counter. Something about his cute frown from the rejection makes you die a little.

“Then let me take you out,” he blurts out, perhaps on the spur of the moment. “I-I mean… unless you have plans later.”

You take a long moment to stare at the boy who had accused you of being a stalker less than an hour ago. Oh how the tables have turned. The spontaneity of travelling with someone you just met certainly will spice up your adventure—for better or worse. Somewhere in you, a fire is lit. So you shake your head, “I don’t have any plans. After all, I’m a free spirit as you like to call me.”

“Then what would you like to be called?”

“Y/N.”

“Right. Y/N. Then… I’m T?”

“T? Is that what your real name starts with?” you chuckle. “And why do you sound so suspicious?”

“Wait, you really don’t know who I am?”

“I really fucking don’t.”

You hear him mumble something about fires and deoxyribonucleic acid, as if you should get the references. But you suppose you’re too much of an uncultured swine to pick up what he’s putting down.

“Good.” For some reason, he looks relieved that you’re unaware of his celebrity self. “Just call me Taehyung then.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung fanfic #bts imagines #taehyung x reader #taehyung #v #bts #bangtan #two tones of a tabby

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a-tired-bass · 5 years

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A Pride and Prejudice liveblogging (with Keira Knightley). As a foreword, not having observed any P&P media for a very long time, I remember merely the gist of the story and not the specifics

Keira Knightley (KK from here on out) is, as always, immaculate

Ooooh I like the clever use of diegetic music with that piano transition

That is a good pupper. Looks like a wolfhound

The ladies are all so cute!

Some of those costumes are not accurate

GO CELLO MAN GO

KK reads queer AF

Oh boy does Darcy need a better barber

Good fun line dances those. I actually know (knew? it’s been a good long while) one of those

Brutal Darcy, brutal. It’s not like you’ve got much to offer bar money right now

Rekt Darcy, KK has your number, cynic she may be

Look. their environment reads cute giggling girls, but that shot reads fucking. Especially with KK’s queercoding earlier

Jeez youre miserable Mrs Bennett. And a miserly old sod

Again, KK dashing off to her lover. Yes, its her sister I suppose, but have you ever met someone who drops everything to walk the obviously non-trivial distance because your family got sick, especially when its a minor sickness and theyre with people already?

Darcy still looks trash. KK, you could have done something with your hair at least, the travelling clothes are excusable however.

Darcy is already smitten, what a hopeless man. But then again, KK

Mr. Bingley you are sorely lacking in the competent vocabulary department arent you. Mayhaps you should read more of those books instead of riding out all the time

Come on lassy, what did you think was going to happen when you throw something into a marching parade? They’re military at that, not gonna step an inch out of line

Whats her name is a piece of shit that really likes showing off to her ‘lessers’ doesn’t she? And yet willing to parade the girl he’s smitten for the sole purpose of antagonizing him. Now that's a nigh familial relationship

Oooh excellent framing and reading of the good v. evil and angel/devil shoulder relationship in that shot. You could easily pump out 500 words on those few seconds alone

Why is she all in dark tones? Or is she the one the mother is calling plain all the time? How rude

Brutal mumma bingley. Don’t taunt those with more money than you could ever dream of in life when you rely on them for your daughters

Ah Mary is the black sheep I see. Now the attire fits the persona

“And I shall never wash this hand again...”

Why do almost all the men use so much vocal fry? It’s such an ugly sound

So many of those words could so easily be construed as butt jokes. Well done to the writers to so instantly make Mr Collins a remarkably adjunct man

Buddy. Buddy. If you’re gonna practice, be better. Yikes. You have so little clue about women. Im not expert but even still. Buddy.

He says with such a pretty ribbon adorning his own hair. At least he knows how to fish for compliments and seek the ladies favour

Darcy you are so jealous, so so jealous

You spin a pretty web soldier man, but you are transparent as day

Your lightness of foot you say, and yet you concentrate so dearly and likely tread so very hard. Unless youre the consort and your lady patron has a foot fetish

Ah, now Mr Darcy, that is how to tread lightly whilst dancing. But he is definitely no attendant of small talk

You could smile Darcy. You’d be much more amicable

Ooh but i do like the cinematography of having them alone in the room

No KK, Bingley is absolutely a fool and you need to help him out for the sake of your sister/lover

Ah poor Mary. I share your resentment of the crowded public gala

Mr. Collins, pay your attentions to Mary, for it is clearly apparent she would be the only one who would be happy to have you

Awww Papa, you are a good man

Why do they always use white sheets? White seems terribly inconvenient for all involved, a grey of some sort would likely be far more suitable

KK you are a clever and perceptive girl. How unfortunate that most of your family do not share that trait

If the ladies are all that old (or approaching), they surely do not act it. I retain my preference to age them as younger to more suitably fit their demeanours. Whether that be a stain upon the director is another debate that I do not feel like considering at this time

...why is there a boat in the middle of your, well, what appears to be sty/stable?

Ah it seems to be representative of a portrayal of seasons

Holy shit collins is hopeless

Jesus man have some decorum and present yourself properly, you are not a dog to be whipped. Or are you? Is that your purpose to your lady patron?

Can’t sit next to your wife? What??

Gosh you have little time for social decorum KK. You and Darcy are sure to do fine once he becomes less of a twat

Awww you’re trying. But maybe try a little less hard, especially on those gloves

I’m glad there was no angry kiss there, despite the constant framing

May you be no judge of my character from hearsay until you know of the truths behind them. I admire that.

Poor Jane. Though, she’ll likely be set up with him again

Not sure how I feel about the Lydia scene.

I know you’re trying to spare her feelings, but tell the poor lass

Ah yes, the ever classic painting of women which are in fact merely men with tits. You think the artists would ever do an anatomy study, but I suppose that might have been improper then

Oh a clever re-rendition of the piece she played badly before. Coincedence? I think not!

Oh thats a pretty hairstyle

Awww she’s cute. She just wants her brother to be happy

RIP Lydia. But off goes Darcy to help find her methinks

Holy fucking shit is thier mother such a narcissist.

Bingly, boy, you need a life coach. Darcy is NOT who you need to go to for advice

But that is a good way to reintroduce yourself

KK needs a hug

I am surprised he is merely sihlouetted in fog and not on a hill crest with the sun rising behind him, but I suppose that would be a contrast to his character. Also, I want a coat like that

On the other hand, KK with a solar halo? Good cinematography

Still no kiss? I adore it

Hey smile is so cute! God I love her

Cute old man too :)

This concludes my liveblogging thoughts

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preservationandruin · 7 years

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Part Four: Storm’s Illumination

Update! I downloaded the nook app, killed my phone’s storage, and have accepted that reading too much on this will fry my already-bad eyes.

But, on the plus side, I can read more WoK.

Point of views back out to be Dalinar, Kaladin, Adolin, and Navani for this section. Featuring Dalinar deciding not to do a stupid thing but to keep trusting Sadeas, the fact that Dalinar isn’t hallucinating, Kaladin learning about his powers, and Dalinar and Navani finally smooching. Also, this is really fucking long, my apologies.

We start seeing the epigraphs be death rattles again. Meanwhile, Adolin has realized that trying to get his father to see that he’s going mad has resulted in Dalinar deciding to abdicate in favor of Adolin--which is not what Adolin wanted at all. You done fucked up, Adolin.

Dalinar has another vision, where he sees the Recreance--the Shardbearers giving up their swords. Interestingly, he also feels the hurt and betrayal of the spren: “A terrible feeling struck him. A sense of immense tragedy, of pain and betrayal. [...] What was happening? What was that dreadful feeling, that screaming he swore he could almost hear?” Also, the blades were glowing, but they dimmed and dimmed over time--the spren dying. Yikes.

So there’s a big hint as to what the Shards actually are. And one of the Radiants--probably Tanavast taking their shape, although it’s hard to tell and it could be a former Bondsmith or something--tells Dalinar that the Night of Sorrows, True Desolation, and Everstorm are coming, and to read the book and “unite them.”

Ren’s also having either a panic attack or an epileptic moment--all Dalinar classes it as is “an episode of weakness” but he’s pale, his legs are shaking, and he immediately sits down and rests his head in his hands.

...I wonder when Renarin started awakening his powers, as a note. Also Renarin accepts the Old Magic as existing easily, while Adolin claims it’s a myth (Dalinar shuts that down).

Adolin and Dalinar start fighting about whether or not Dalinar should step down and Renarin interrupts with “uh...guys...we could, like test to see if the visions are legitimate or not??” and both of them are like “?????”

So they decide to have Navani write down the visions as Dalinar sees them, because they know they can trust her and their first choice--Jasnah--isn’t there.

“The visions had told him to trust Sadeas” DALINAR NO

Navani is going out of her way to help Adolin with his flirting attempts she’s such a good aunt I love her. Also it gets him out of the room so Navani and Dalinar can talk privately.

Navani tries yet again to convince Dalinar they can be together but Dalinar is a bit too tired and confused and uncertain to be able to do this right now, which she recognizes and does leave.

Back to Bridge Four!!! They’re on another bridge run, and Dunny dies--hit by two arrows and trampled by horses. Moash has to pin Kaladin down to stop him from running out after the kid which, thank god Kaladin has some people who are willing to act as his self-preservation. And so instead of helping Dunny, he goes around and tries to heal Bridgemen from other crews.

Kaladin is too good and pure. He’s just furious that nobody cares about the dead Bridgemen.

Kaladin runs off of righteous anger and like, coffee, probably.

Anyway he fucking tears the Bridge Four gang a new one when they refuse to help someone from another bridge because people from other bridges were mean to them--and in the process states that his father was the only man with honor that he ever knew.

Listen, this is why Kaladin is dangerous--he cares about everyone, that makes them surprised and grateful, especially on the bridge teams where nobody gives a shit about anybody, and then they become slightly more loyal to him. And then suddenly he has like, an army of loyal people.

He’s such a hufflepuff.

Also Teft is dropping the world’s least subtle clues here like “wooow its so weird we keep not getting hit....funny that that happens when you run point...just keep carrying lit spheres with you......they’re good luck....oh they went dun again wow that’s so strange kaladin”

Meanwhile, Kaladin’s own grazed arrow wound is completely gone, and he’s getting a little freaked out.

Another death rattle: “the burdens of nine become mine. Why must I carry the madness of them all? Oh, Almighty, release me.” This is absolutely Taln (or, uh, whichever of them is the one who was left behind).

Dalinar’s at a feast again, and Wit isn’t there--Dalinar notes it’s probably because he doesn’t want to become predictable. Also Dalinar notes that noblewomen competing to draw the same person has the same social function as duels between noblemen, although they don’t use the same word. Wit does show up, just casually sitting next to Dalinar--and Dalinar notes that Adolin’s judgement of Wit was more accurate than his was.

I gotta say, Adolin is hella perceptive. I’ve said it before, I know, but he’s a smart kid.

Wit quietly--and accurately--depicts the relation between Dalinar and Sadeas: “The foolishness of men who care, Dalinar, and the brilliance of those who do not. The second depend on the first--but also exploit the first--while the first misunderstand the second, hoping that the second are more like the first.”

Also Wit ponders if you can pull a person apart and put him back together into something else “Like a Dysian Aimian” (but also, unsaid, like a Radiant.) This whole conversation is Wit trying to gauge exactly how much Dalinar knows--possibly because Wit doesn’t know exactly what Tanavast is telling Dalinar. Interesting.

Sadeas is going to pull Some Bullshit (as always) and Elhokar is getting more and more paranoid, so all of that is interesting.

Dalinar voice: Sadeas is going to cause Bullshit re: the investigation so I’m just going to go up and ask him about it.

I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad idea but regardless it’s going to possibly throw Sadeas off. Unfortunately, Sadeas’ plan is to lull Dalinar into a false sense of security--claiming the most likely suspect is someone who dislikes Dalinar.

Adolin cannot fucking believe that Sadeas is exonerating Dalinar (which, again, Adolin should stick to his intuition that Sadeas is a sneaky bastard). So Dalinar and Sadeas start plans to ally, which of course GOES HORRIBLY WRONG DALINAR DON’T TRUST SADEAS.

Skar, about Amaram: Were you with him when he won his shards? Kaladin, quietly, but with great internal salt: No. Nobody was.

BECAUSE AMARAM DIDN’T FUCKING WIN ANY SHARDS HE STOLE THEM LIKE A FUCKING ASSHOLE I HATE AMARAM SO MUCH

Rock: You can’t fucking swallow a broam Moash: I bet I can Kaladin: Don’t do that, because if you do that, you will die

Kaladin as Bridge Four’s tired Team Mom is very real

Also Moash is still showing signs of wanting to go too far--a la “we could just take everything” until Kaladin shuts that down for being stupid and likely to get them caught. Moash isn’t a tactical thinker.

Also Kal baits Rock into revealing that he can use a bow and arrow.

Rock: that shot is nearly impossible

Rock: effortlessly makes the shot

Dalinar is trying to figure out Parshendi gender. “The clean-shaven ones didn’t have much in the way of breasts” weLL IM PRETTY SURE THEYRE NOT MAMMALS so THANK GOD. But Dalinar has noticed that the fighting pairs are usually a man and a woman, and also wonders why in six years of fighting nobody thought to investigate what gender their opponents were.

I mean, honestly, given how much we depersonalize our enemies, I can believe that.

And Dalinar’s having problems with the Thrill again. Notably, it doesn’t make him a less effective fighter--it just cuts off the bloodlust and glee.

Dalinar literally saves Sadeas’ fucking life and later in the book Sadeas repays him by leaving him and Adolin to die.

To quote a D&D show I watch, SOME PEOPLE HAVE NO SENSE OF FUCKING HONOR.

Descriptions of the thrill remain disturbingly...sexual, almost. At least in the sense that the vocabulary we have to describe a visceral glee and desire tends to be reminiscent of sexual language. (”He nearly choked on it, the joy, the pleasure, the desire. The danger.”)

Sadeas: tonight, all of my soldiers will feast as if they were lighteyes Me, full of salt: BET THAT DOESN’T INCLUDE THE BRIDGEMEN YOU COLOSSAL ASSHOLE

Another bridgeman has died and Kaladin is not taking it well. Gaz didn’t come to the bridge run--he might have deserted by this point. Kaladin also notices that the Parshendi revere their dead. Kal also still doesn’t believe that Dalinar is as good as people say he is.

And Teft just got Kaladin to inhale stormlight and use it instinctively, leading to him glowing. Kaladin is lowkey freaking out about having the powers of the Radiants.

Kaladin and Hoid are interacting for the first time and it’s great. We also get the story of a group of people who would kill any who did something wrong because the emperor wouldn’t tolerate it, and then discovered the emperor was dead all along and had to live with the guilt of knowing that those murders were on their hands, not the emperor’s.

...which could be a metaphor for all of Vorinism learning that Honor is dead. Or not. As with most things with Hoid, it’s very ambiguous. Also, Syl doesn’t like Hoid, which is understandable. I can see an Honorspren thinking he was strange and wrong.

Kaladin, thinking, also realizes that his “Emperor” is the apathy--the belief that he can’t change anything. He holds onto that instead of looking for other reasons things could be happening, or acknowledging that he can change things.

And so he decides to actually start working with and using his powers.

Honestly from the point of anyone else this story is lowkey ridiculous like “yeah a slave turned out to be a new radiant and so his team of bridgerunners helped him train in the chasms and literally nobody noticed, really” in-universe it makes sense because nobody pays attention to the bridgemen but still you have someone who CAN FLY

A death rattle mentions “Re-Shephir, the Midnight Mother, giving birth to abominations with her essence, so dark, so terrible, so consuming.” Another of the unmade? Hard to tell.

Adolin is talking to Jakamav, who I unfortunately can only ever see as a fratbro. On the other hand, that’s not an inaccurate interpretation. Adolin is also casually Judging other people’s fashion choices someone let this boy dress in the pretty clothes he wants to dress in instead of his uniform

Also Adolin is grumbling about how other people always want dark hair, which he thinks is stupid. He also claims he forgot that Humility existed, which is probably true.

Also Jakamav’s girlfriend insulted Dalinar and Adolin is just. ready to FIGHT.

“Adolin liked to be familiar with a large number of people, but not terribly close with any of them.” That’s just interesting. He’s only really close with his family, especially Renarin, at this point.

Also, Adolin starts to see the purpose behind the Codes--he starts to see that it’s not just about pure practicality, but also about treating war and the death that comes with it with a measure of seriousness, and also giving people commanders they can trust. It’s about the importance of symbols.

Dalinar is reciting the Way of Kings to Sadeas and Elhokar, who don’t really get it. We also get “all save the Heralds themselves must dine with the Nightwatcher,” implying that she’s seen as some sort of death entity.

Also, Dalinar is me: “And you have this entire passage memorized?” “I likely got a few of the words wrong” “Knowing you, that means you might have forgotten a singled “an’ or ‘the.” Also Sadeas does give Dalinar the honest advice that literally nobody else naturally talks like him, so other people assume he’s putting it on as a self-righteous act (...again, Dalinar, I feel you on that one.)

Dalinar is staring at Navani again. And Sadeas is judging people’s fashion sense now.

Time for Adolin to crush it in the duelling ring. Also the line “And so Adolin--in a moderately subtle move” is killing me like. Welp. It was moderately subtle which is the best we can expect from him. Anyway, Adolin obviously just annihilates his opponent, because Adolin is incredible.

“They’re trying to kill me,” Elhokar said softly, huddling down in his armor. “They’ll see me dead, like my father.” Highprinces: Look we made a strong king Me: Look at what you did to him! he has anxiety!!!

I retain a soft spot for Elhokar. And he mentions seeing “Symbols, twisted, inhuman” in mirrors--sounds a lot like Cryptics. I almost wrote Cryptids. Wonderful. And Elhokar and Sadeas bully Dalinar into using Sadeas’ fast and costly bridges--which Kaladin later takes as a sign of Dalinar not having as much honor as people say, if I remember right.

Also, Dalinar’s opinion on fights: “When you won, it was always better to win quickly and with extreme advantage.” Amen to that.

Kal’s trying to intentionally inhale stormlight now. And we get Teft’s explanation of the Words, which i like, although one of them is pretty much word-for-word “Dying is easy, young man, living is harder” from Hamilton.

And now, Bridge Four is being put on Bridge duty every single day, which is just the brightlords flat-up wanting them killed. “Consider it an...honor” they say, and Kaladin has to stop himself from swearing. He also learns that he has to inhale the Stormlight in, he can’t just...will it inside of him.

And Kaladin forms the “parshendi carapace” idea to protect them. We also get some examination of Kaladin’s agnosticism.

Also he tried to walk on a wall and fell on his ass, nice going Kaladin.

But he’s getting the hang of having a lot of power and exploiting that to smuggle things out of the chasms. Including surviving a 40-foot fall.

Back to Dalinar and Adolin, Dalinar has decided not to abdicate. Navani is also the one most aware of Elhokar’s weakness, while Dalinar still denies it. Also, Renarin is fascinated by Navani’s fabrials. So am I--fabrials are really cool.

And Dalinar is talking with Nohadon in his vision. Also, Navani realizes he’s speaking, instead of gibberish, an ancient dialect of the Dawnchant. Which Dalinar doesn’t know, and thus can’t have hallucinated--the visions are genuine.

Navani is realizing she might have just figured out how to translate the Dawnchant, which is also incredible.

Navani and Dalinar are, yet again, alone, and Dalinar is even like “Navani you’re doing it again” and Navani is just like. yep. you caught me. Also she explains that being the old queen basically means she’s placeless in the world and everyone only sees her as the wife of a dead man, and she’s furious seeing it from Dalinar as well, who knew her even before Gavilar did.

And so Dalinar kisses her because of course he does. There are even passionspren. And then she starts talking business and important things but Dal is also like, distracted because holy shit she’s so pretty aaaaa which, is, relateable, i too cannot function around pretty people.

Also, multiple notes that the marriage between Gavilar and Navani might not have been the best--Navani notes she had reason to be unfaithful even though she wasn’t, and starts saying something that Dalinar cuts off.

Also Navani is very smug about the fact that Dalinar kissed her first. Dalinar tries to claim that he was seduced. “What? Seduced?” She glanced back at him. “ Dalinar, I’ve never been more open and honest in my life.” “I know,” Dalinar said, smiling. “That was the seductive part.”

This is such a Good Ship

Anyway back with the bridgemen Moash just wants to flat-up attack Sadeas’ army and Kaladin is like. Nope. No. If we do that we will die.

Yep, Dal is using the bridges again. I can’t remember if this is the time with the Tower or not. I’m on around the 900th page, so maybe?

“a one-armed herdazian is still twice as useful as a nobrained Alethi. Plus, so long as I’ve got one hand, I can still do this” and then Lopen just flips off the army i love him.

Also a soldier tries to take their water and Kal is ready to fight them. The soldier is like I don’t want to wait for our water crews and Kaladins like wow that’s too bad for you, and the soldier looks like he’s going to hit him and the entire fucking Bridge 4 gang forms up like buddy, if you punch Kaladin we’re going to have a Problem.

The soldiers who aren’t assholes are even like, nice.

Kaladin voice: oh god i hope they don’t notice that was a spear fighting formation WHOOPS And its time for operation Parshendi Armor.

So everyone targets Kaladin, who can fucking dodge shit and surgebind, and not the bridges. Booyeah. All of bridge four is now yelling at him because of course they are. Matal, who is in charge of the bridges, threatens to have Kaladin strung up and Kaladin’s like yeah bc that worked so well for you guys last time.

And Dalinar noticed that Parshendi archers were targeting Kaladin’s group and went in to save them. Dalinar is Good. And he even raised his Blade to salute Kaladin. So this time wasn’t the Tower, but that’s got to be the next full Bridge run we get. We’re close, now.

Although Shen took this badly. Of course--these are the bodies of his people. But at the same time, Kaladin literally needs to do this to keep them all alive. All the choices here are bad, but this was the least bad. Kaladin also is trying to work out the logistics of leaving, realizing that staying is untenable, but leaving is impossible. Somehow they discount the possibility “Dalinar Kholin recruits you as a personal guard after you save his life.”

Anyway Dalinar and Navani are now a thing. Their guards and clerks are starting to get a bit confused at how much time they spend together. And more discussion of Shshsh, who I hope we get the story of next book. God, I hope she’s not just one more fridged woman for male pain.

Dalinar: how will we explain this to Elhokar??? Dalinar at the end of the book: yes i am fucking your mother goodbye

...I still blame/thank Jazz for making me incapable of taking that scene seriously.

Oh man, horns just sounded for a chasmfiend on the Tower HERE IT IS. Kaladin, Dalinar, and Adolin are all getting ready for it, and the rate of my habitual leg-jiggle stim has like, doubled. Wonderful.

And we also see Sadeas planning--trying to get Dalinar to commit most of his forces and leave behind his bridge crews. That sneaky bastard. Also Sadeas claims credit for the armored bridgemen idea. That dick.

I’m gonna cut it here. I have a feeling I’ll scream a hell of a lot about the Tower.

#stormlight archive liveblog #roshar #dalinar voice: unite them #FUCK YEAH BRIDGE FOUR #cultivation is that you #holy foreshadowing batman #dalinavani is a Good Ship

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leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid · 7 years

Text

That’s Not Fine

Pairing: Dean x Reader; Charlie Bradbury, and ofc Seraphina

Word Count: 3228

Warnings: Symptoms of Bipolar 2 disorder, depression, hypomania, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, negative self image and thoughts. If any of this is triggering or possibly triggering Please Do Not Read!!!!

Author’s Note: Written for the Mental Health Awareness Challenge hosted by @letsgetoutalive. This is an AU where Dean is not a hunter but he is the reader’s husband. The reader has Bipolar 2 disorder and she is me. This story is based on true events that happened over the summer between myself and several others. They know who they are and I hope this gives them a little peak at what was going on in my head at the time. I can never apologize enough and to some I can’t apologize at all for the things I did while having an episode, and its completely inexcusable. Things are different now and if you feel like things are getting out of control or those around you keep saying, get help, please seek treatment. No one deserves to deal with a disorder like this without help. It’s awful for everyone involved. My birthday gift to myself today is truth, to lay myself out for you all to see. My name is Sundae, I’m bipolar, and this is my story. Italics are inner thoughts, Bold italics are IM messages.

There it was again, that thought, the nagging, constient voice whispering in your ear. ‘They hate you. You pissed them off. They just put up with you and your crap because they feel bad for you. You have to make it up to them, fix it. Fix it. Fix it!’ That little voice was back and it was getting louder and louder everyday.

“Hey babe, you okay?” you husband Dean sat down next to you on the bed, wonder in his beautiful green eyes.

You looked up from your laptop screen, putting a fake half smile on your face as you nodded. “Yep, all good. Was just messaging Charlie back.”

“Oh, tell her I said hi and I’m gonna get dinner going. Thought I’d let you know since I know you are trying to write in here.”

“Yeah, not much writing going on today but alright. Let me know when it’s ready. Love you.”

Dean leaned closer, “Love you too.” his pink plush lips brush over yours before he jumps up and walks out of the room.

Your eyes went back to your screen, the message to Charlie still sitting unsent in the IM window. ‘It’s just I feel like I’m bothering you all the time and I don’t want to do that. I never want to do that to you because I love you. You are one of my best friends and if I’m too much to handle you are welcome to drop me out of your life.’ You reread that message three times before letting your fingers fly over the keys again. ‘I completely understand and I encourage you to distance yourself from me. It would be a lot better if you did.’ Sent.

There it was finally, in black and white, and you hoped when Charlie read the message she would see it was for the best for her to walk away from her friendship with you. You’d always told her that you were trouble. That being friends meant that she would be dealing with a crazy person and she had laughed it off thinking it was just a joke. It wasn’t and now you waited for when she’d read the message and get back to you.

Clicking over into another tab sat the unfinished story you had been working on. A challenge a friend had given you that when you said you’d do it had inspired so many things. A rockstar falling in love and getting addicted to heroin, using with her bass player/boyfriend, the highs and lows of stardom making them chase that high higher and higher until they couldn’t chase it anymore. You’d planned it out, knew what was going to happen, but here you sat staring at just the first few paragraphs, all energy to write it gone.

“Come on Y/N, you can write this.” you whispered to yourself. You’d been writing for years, the last year of which had been your most productive, writing and releasing stories onto your blog multiple times a week. Most of your nights spent wide awake, fingers flying over the keys to bring to life new pieces of storytelling and filth for the masses to read along with you. You knew you could do this, you’d finished every single challenge you’d been given so far, and you were not about to let this one be a failure.

Rereading what you’d written though sparked no inspiration and when you clicked back into the tab for Tumblr you saw a message from Charlie.

‘I’m not going to do that and you aren’t bothering me. I don’t understand why you feel like that but we’ve been over this again and again. Please, Y/N, let this go and move on.’

She was mad at you. Clearly she was mad and you felt tears starting to burn behind your eyes. You’d done it again, made a friend mad when you were just trying to fix it. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just how I was feeling is all.’

‘You have no reason to feel that way.’

Charlie’s response didn’t make sense to you and you reread it half a dozen times before replying again. You did have reason to feel that way because she’d been distant and you knew you’d been bothering her because she’d told you earlier in the week she’d been busy with work. You needed to make her see that you were no good for her and you were a cancer in her life that needed to be eliminated.

‘But I do and I’m just sorry.’

There was no reply after that and you knew your friendship was over. Fat, hot tears ran down your cheeks as you sat in bed waiting for a reply that never came. Dean hollered from the kitchen that dinner was ready and you wiped at your face till you were sure he couldn’t tell you’d been crying.

The smell of steak filling your senses as you wandered slowly into the kitchen. “Smells great babe.”

Dean turned around, a smile gracing his gorgeous face. “Thanks, did you need more time to write after dinner?” He asked as he started to portion out the plates.

“No, wasn’t getting much done anyway.” You were a failure and all you could do was stuff your face and hope Dean didn’t decide this was when he wanted to walk away from a fat ass like you.

Together you ate while he talked about different parts of his day at the shop he co-owned with his dad and you tried to pay attention as you kept rerunning the chat you’d had with Charlie. There had to be a way to fix it, you’d messed it up so badly.

Dean continued to talk until you had finished dinner, not once did he ask how your day had been, and as you walked to the bedroom together to watch tv your heart sank. ‘He doesn’t even care how your day was. He knows it was boring. He probably hates you like Charlie does and like Ellen does, and Jo.’ You knew everyone hated you and you deserved for them to hate you.

The next couple hours were spent watching a movie on Netflix and when Dean fell asleep without kissing you goodnight you’d turned off the tv as well as your bedside lamp, and turned away from him. You reached for your phone, the Tumblr app opening, and showing a new message from someone and you were filled with dread at who it might be.

‘Please, Y/N, let it go. I can’t keep telling you that everything is fine between us. You are my friend and I love you but you need help. Something is wrong and I can’t help you.’

Charlie’s words cut like a knife through your heart and you let silent sobs wrack your body. Something was wrong, very wrong, and every time you saw a doctor they always told you the same thing. It’s just a little depression and a few months with medication should make you feel better. And the doctor was right, it did, for awhile.

That’s when you would feel normal, you’d finally sleep and eat like everyone else, you’d spend time with Dean doing things you loved and your brain didn’t feel like it was running a marathon. The meds worked, they did but then everything would start to slip. You’d take your meds but then you’d start feeling that urge to stay awake. To write one more story, ideas flying out of your head so fast you could hardly keep up. The phrases, “did you sleep? When did you come to bed? Have you eaten today?” all became regular parts of your husband’s vocabulary.

You’d shrug him off, you were fine, and super productive. You had stories ready for when you had writers block and your follower count was up since you’d been posting so much new content. Things were fine, he just couldn’t see it. You didn’t need to sleep to be amazing or put out amazing content, this was how you were and you loved it.

But you knew, every single time, and you dreaded what you knew was coming. What you were going through right now, this low, the darkness slowly closing in around you. Every thought in your head telling you that you were a bad person and deserved to be told so by everyone. You didn’t deserve to be happy, you deserved to feel this way, and to watch your friends walk away from a crazy person like you.

You clicked over to your dash, scrolling through posts and finding nothing to occupy your mind. All that kept going around and around in your head was Charlie’s words, your brain highlighting certain parts and leaving others behind. ‘Y/N, let it go. I can’t keep telling you that everything is fine. You need help and I can’t help you.’ Over and over again your brain kept repeating it until finally you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Instead of bothering anyone you opened a text post, sticking a little asterisk in where you’d put your usual text and start venting in the tags.

Writing all that out did nothing to make you feel better and you continued to cry until you fell asleep. When you awoke the next morning, Dean was already gone, and you grabbed your phone to check for notifications and messages. A text from Dean told you he loved you and he’d be late getting home. Paperwork for the expansion was finally in and he’d need to work on it with his dad after hours.

Next was Tumblr and as usual you didn’t have any messages. The notifications were from people reblogging mostly your reblogs and a few likes on an old story back when you were actually able to write. With nothing worth looking at there any longer, you opened your dash and started scrolling. Just a few posts down was one by Charlie and she was obviously not happy.

Charlie’s post ate at you, reading it and the tags over and over again. You knew it had been wrong to put her in the tags, knew that online etiquette says don’t out anyone or say anything except positive things about others but you had to get it out. Your brain wouldn’t stop, the voice repeating itself over and over again until you posted it.

You pushed the reblog button, your fingers poised over the keys trying to think of what to say but all you could think was that she was right. You were sick and manipulating people into feeling bad for you. There was no reason for anyone to feel sorry for you because you were acting like a child, boohooing on the internet when you should just keep it to yourself.

Closing the reblog you starting planning instead. The world didn’t need you in it, messing everything up for everyone. Bothering them with your nonsense and dragging them down when they were all so happy. Dean would be home late and you knew that would give you the time that you needed to do this right.

Walking into your bathroom you took stock of what you had on hand in the cabinet. Muscle relaxers from when Dean hurt his back a few weeks before, the sleeping pills your doctor gave you for when you told him you had trouble sleeping, and your Prozac that was half full of capsules. You weren’t sure if it would be enough but you figured if you ground everything down they might at least work faster. Dean would probably get home too late to help you and it would all just end.

With a plan forming in your mind you heard a ding from your phone of a message. Opening it you saw it was from Seraphine, a friend you had made online and you sighed wondering what she wanted.

‘Hey sweetie just wanted to check in on you. I saw your post from last night and if you need to talk I’m here for you.’

‘Hey Sera I’m fine just having a moment. Don’t worry about me. I’m good.’

‘You sure?”

You chewed at your lip knowing you were lying but not wanting to worry your friend at all. ‘Yeah I’m fine. Everythings fine.’

‘Doesn’t seem fine. How are things with Dean?”

‘Dean’s good. Working late tonight which is good for me. Lets me get done what I need to do.’

There was a pause between messages and you sat on your bed waiting for her to reply so you could say goodbye and get the mortar and pestle from your kitchen to start getting your pills ready.

‘What is it that you need to do?’

You were getting aggravated, you needed to go so you could do this. You needed to end this conversation and end your sad pathetic existence.

‘Nothing you need to worry about. Just something that needs to be done. I’ve got to go. Bye sweetie.’

‘Wait! Don’t go, Y/N. Please, whatever it is you need to do I want you to know you don’t have to. What time is Dean coming home?’

You looked up at the clock and realized the day had slipped away from you. Hours of time just bleeding into one another without you even noticing, the sky outside your bedroom window already showing an orange and pink glow of the sunset.

‘I don’t know. All his text said was late. It will be fine. I gotta go, Sera.’

‘You don’t have to go. Stay and talk to me, Y/N. I’m worried about you.’

You scoffed to yourself and punched in your reply. ‘You don’t have to be worried about me. Nothing to worry about. I need to go, Seraphine. It will all be better once I do.’

‘No, it won’t. Please, don’t go yet ,Y/N.Call Dean and tell him you need him to come home. You shouldn’t be alone right now.’

You shook your head, tears burning and falling quickly down your face. ‘I’m not going to bother him and I’m fine.’

‘You aren’t fine and you need to call him. If you won’t I will. Please, Y/N.’

Your phone slipped from your hand and onto your bed where you left it to swipe at the tears coursing down your face. You were so pathetic, crying like this. You needed to stop and just do what needed to be done. Leaving your phone where it landed you stood up and rounded the side of your bed just as you heard the front door open, Dean rushing in while calling your name.

“Y/N! Hey babe, Charlie called me and said that you needed me to come home right away. Sweetheart, what’s going on?” The love and concern poured off of Dean in waves and you were overcome with despair, shame, and fear. A great heart wrenching sob leaving your body as you launched yourself into his chest, his arms wrapping around you as your body convulsed with cries.

“Whoa sweetheart, what’s going on? Come on, kid. Talk to me.” Dean held you tight to him and you just cried, not a single word could be released with how hard you were sobbing. He moved the two of you till he could sit on the end of the bed, pulling you sideways into his lap, rubbing his hand in circles over your back and telling you how much he loved you. “Talk to me, Y/N. Please tell me what happened?”

Through your tears your drew in a few deep breaths, you lips quivering as you shakingly responded. “I’m scared. I’m so scared and I-I don’t know what to do.” More sobs erupted at your confession and Dean squeezed you in reassurance.

“Charlie said you were planning to kill yourself. Where you? Please tell me she was wrong about that. I can’t lose you. Not like that.” Dean’s voice broke as he spoke, his own grief over his wife being in so much pain spilling ovel.

“I’m so scared because I want to Dean, so bad. I want everything to just stop. Make it stop, Dean. Make it stop.”

Dean pressed his lips to your head before moving his hand to your cheek and bringing your face up to look at him. “Tell me what to do to make it stop and I will. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it. Right here, right now.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you confessed, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out. Maybe we should call your doctor and tell him what’s going on. He should be able to help.” Dean reached for your phone knowing the number to your doctor was inside along with the emergency contact number for moments like this.

“No, Dean. Please, don’t call him. Not right now. I can’t. Please, just hold me. I need you to hold me and make it stop.” you turned yourself in his arms till you could wrap yourself completely around him, sobbing into his shoulder and releasing all the hurt you’d let consume you the last couple of weeks.

He held you to him, reminding you that he was there, and he wasn’t going to leave you. When you finally started to calm he leaned back and looked into your reddened eyes. “Sweetheart, we need to get you help. I love you but you need to talk to your doctor.”

You shook your head in protest. “No, I’ll be fine, Dean. Really it’s fine.”

“Y/N, that’s not fine. The phone call from Charlie telling me my wife was making posts online, talking to people about needing to go do something and everything would be better after. That’s not fine. You are not fine but you can fight this. We can fight this. Please babe, let me help you fight this. Let me call your doctor.” Dean’s olive orbs pleaded with you and you leaned around him to grab your phone.

“Help me?” A shuddered breath fell from your lips and Dean kissed your forehead before nodding.

He scrolled through your contacts and made the call to get you help.

12 weeks later

Bipolar 2, finally your doctor had listened and you had the right diagnoses. It was scary, the scariest thing a doctor had probably ever said to you and Dean stood by you the entire time. Not once thinking to walk away from you or to let you stop fighting. The medication you were on was changed and with it your activities at home. The amount of time you spent online went down considerably and you’d managed to apologize for your behavior towards Charlie at the time.

You’d told Seraphine thank you, having connected the dots that she had been the one to contact Charlie, who in turn called Dean. Together they had all saved you from yourself and now you were on the road to being a healthy version of yourself. No amount of thank yous were enough but you tried at least once a day, to return some of their kindness back into the world. Because being sick isn’t an excuse but it is a reality and with these people on your side as well as proper medical treatment, your reality was looking a whole lot better.

Tagging let me know if you want off the ride: @aprofoundbondwithdean @brooklyn-writes-flangst @duckzorz @gizmospacerocket @kayteonline @jotink78 @manawhaat @maxremixed @mrsjohnsmith @mrswhozeewhatsis @oriona75 @rizlow1 @littlegreenplasticsoldier @harley-kitty-queen @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit @lady-of-the-bunker @tardis-is-mine @nichelle-my-belle @superromijn @sis-tafics @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @mysupernaturalfics @nerdflash @waywardjoy @superisatomboyuniverse @cici0507 @beatlesobsessionlove @chelsea072498 @loveitsallineed @love-me-some-pie21 @atc74 @for-the-love-of-dean @impala-dreamer @percywinchester27 @i-dont-understand-whats-going-on @bitch-jerk-assbutt-xo @therosecolouredpost @dorky-and-i-know-it @supernatural-jackles @iwantthedean @gemini75seeyore @babypieandwhiskey @milkymilky-cocopuff @mrsbarry-allen-1031 @letsdisneythings @winchesterenthusiast @femmedplume

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