#okay i dont know i should take alone together and the memories at face value

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

having incoherent thoughts actually

(mostly a small collection of everything I can discern that gives us insight into sherb and raes relationship as children)

(also known as a long post about c!sherbert and Rae and siblings-)

(Also also known as mildly incoherent long post time that it just word vomit and stringing along thoughts-)

so like. Going through the notes in order, at the end of notes 1 there is the hint that Sherbert maybe isn't the best older sibling, with the '-lled me stupid because I got her name wrong'

do I Uh. Have to go through notes 2? Do I. Do i.. cause. Cause that was pretty fuckin shitty. There's nothing I can say that will excuse that Or what they said to him. I get stress and everything going on, but I'm not sure there is an expectation for that. Sherbert shouldn't have done that, and was obviously not being a good older bother in this moment.

first entry of notes number three that we can see (post notes 2, and presumably post sherb ripping it up) talks about sherb saying that they shouldn't go into Isla room anymore. With the addition of the fact the both of them won't have sleepovers in there anymore. Sherbert couldn't have cared that little about him, if they had sleepovers presumably fairly regularly in their mothers room.

Just. Sherb calling Rae weird. (Entry 9 that we can see) which. Might just be a sibling thing, but ┐(ﾟ～ﾟ)┌

Entry 11 that we can see, Sherb caught Rae sneaking out, Rae says they're going to tattle. That they always do. Gives the impression that sherb just wants rae in trouble for one reason or another. (However, my dad likes to tell us that tatting is okay if someone at risk at getting hurt. Sneaking out isn't exactly harmless. On the other hand, we don't know what the other events they've tattled about, so I cannot say if this was a concerned older sibling tattle or a needing and wanting a younger sibling to get in trouble tattle.)

Entry 12 of notes 3, and '-eld notes' both reference rae questioning something that someone (presumably sherbert, as said person is referred to with they/them) else presumably doesn't believe, saying that it was made up. Which. Maybe listen to your sibling when they say they've seen/heard/experienced someone?? I don't know, it doesn't seem like Sherbert believed mush that Rae said. (It is important to note entry 12 was labeled a day after entry 11.)

Also in '-eld notes' "we can't get it to stop" in reference to their eye implies they were both trying to get it to stop. What Rae said today on stream pushes doubt on the idea that Sherbert wanted that help.

(I. Going on a side tangent about the eye and the eye patch and sherb throwing it away and laughing at Rae trying to help and Rae being upset. Um. Okay. So um. As the older sibling you are. Expected to be the one younger siblings lean on when your parents are busy or when your parents cant or they're unavailable or or or. And with that, you're expected to really only need help from either, a, your parents, or b, another older sibling (who is older than you). now sherbert didn't have any of those. they're without fable. Without Isla. (Without anyone above you, these are just 'expectations' you set for yourself.) They are the older sibling, they're not supposed to need help from their younger sibling. Sometimes you don't want help from your younger sibling. The eye thing must've hurt and they must have been very stressed about it on top of everything else, and and and. The laugh could've been something bitter. It also could have not. Them throwing the eyepatch away could've been them hold themself to "expectations" they dont have to, not thinking theyvneed their younger siblings help. (not wanting it.) We don't know, we weren't there, but also just. I don't know if that moment was sherbert being a shity older sibling or sherbert being a worn out done with the world (still kinda shitty because they didn't explain why) older sibling. Dont know. Just. Side tanget.)

(Rae being upset about it is perfectly valid. He has his right. I'd be upset to if my older sibling was hurting and I tried to help and they wouldn't let me and they laughed at me because how dare I try to fix something and how dare i try to care about them. I'd very very upset.)

Side tangent over. Alone together. Alone together. This book haunts my dreams /vvpos. Do I take it at face value? Do I look further into it? I don't know. So. This is mostly just. Quotes I'm pointing out because how do I take them after that lore today? I don't know-

So, first, "masking their disappointment as they put on a forced smile for the boy beside them."

This too, "In spite of every disagreement and struggle, their bond was unlike any other." Implying that despite everything priorly mentioned, they were still close.

And. And this. ""Rae, I'm glad I have you""

Also all the memories fable showed sherb and Rae the two of them seem. Really close. Rae clinging to sherbert and sherbert talking very gently to Rae.

Also. Also that one message in spoilers about sherb and the corruption and how its probably very similar to how a younger sherbert acted and heyhays response. that too. Actually-

And. That's. All I'm looking for right now. I'm sure there's more and yall are very free to add on and correct me (please please do correct me if I made a mistake) I'm being very incoherent and just having older sibling vs. younger sibling thoughts right now, so I'm not sure if any of this makes sense-

[mrswalkers-blog]

Falling in love with you

Chapter 14 - The Storm

Book: The Royal Romance AU ( Drake x MC & Liam x Olivia)

What it’s about: This is an AU that happens two years after Riley weds  Drake. Drake has lost his memory of last 2 years due to an accident. He  doesn’t remember meeting Riley who is pregnant with their first child.  Unaware of this fact and not able to cope with the strange new life he  has woken up to , he flees Cordonia.

Liam marries Olivia for  purely political purposes. Olivia on the other hand marries him because  she is madly in love with him. But after two years on marriage and  unable to produce an heir and unable to get Liam to love her, she asks  for a divorce.

A/N: I recent watched two amazing web-series that left me hanging for next season. “People got to start finishing their story” I thought. And I should be the one to start. I have left you waiting and I am sorry for that. Here is the latest Chapter. Story is no where near end.

Summary of last Chapter : One and a Half Years Back : Regina explains Liam that not producing an heir in due time can cause chaos in Monarchy. She also hints that Olivia must consult a doctor. Olivia overhears this conversation and decides to consult a doctor. The doctor informs her that her ovary was damaged - during the fight with Anton. She was also suffering from a condition that was making it nearly impossible for her to conceive.

Now: Liam meets Drake at a ranch in USA. They talk and Liam clears that whatever happened was in past. and Riley was just a friend to him now. Liam also confirms that Riley was pregnant with Drake’s child. Drake decides to return with Liam.

Warnings: 13 + PLEASE NOTE: Past chapters links are available in my bio.Please Re-blog, Comment or at least hit like if you like this series.

One Year Back: Olivia stood in the balcony facing the private royal garden lush with thousands of flowers in all possible colors. Chirping of birds had filled the morning sky. A soft breeze were playing gently with her red locks. 

It was a beautiful and peaceful morning, but her thoughts could not have been further away from it. Her thoughts were like a tornado causing complete havoc inside her. Standing in silence, with a stoic face, alone in the beautiful balcony of the grand palace, was the queen of Cordonia. The women envied by every other woman in Cordonia herself was feeling frustrated, tormented, empty, unworthy. Her entire life was flashing in front of her eyes - her parents who neglected her when she was a child, who were killed, who turned out to be traitors. She was left alone, rejected and frowned upon by everyone except Liam. She was just a child when she was made duchess of Lythikos. But she was a fighter. She had proven herself to be worthy of the title. It was not her fault that her parents were traitor. But everyone treated her differently. A child inherits not only the legacy of their parents but also their reputation - good or bad. She had learned at a very young age that one can gain respect in only two ways - love or fear. If they cannot love her, they need to fear her.

And she didn't care if no one loved her. She only needed love from one man, her husband - the King - Liam Rhys. He cared for her, he trusted her, liked her. But didn't love her.

A sad smile spread on her lips as she thought about the love of her life. It had been a year of their married life. And it seemed that the initial charm of their marriage was already dying down. The sex was becoming less frequent, and Liam seemed constantly busy in his work. She knew Liam had made it very clear that their marriage was a political one. Their first anniversary was a political affair too. They had a grand ball organized on their first marriage anniversary. Royal families of all neighboring countries had attended. The legendary party had been in news for days. But for Liam it was only a reason to meet the dignitaries of neighboring countries. A chance to make allies and strengthen the existing ties. 

Her hands tightened on the railing. Was it too much to expect a small gift from him on the anniversary? Or just a loving kiss or a hug? maybe a few words saying what she meant to him?

She had hoped he would eventually fall in love with her. She was doing everything she could - taking care of his every need like a good lover, guiding and helping him in all state matters like a good queen, pleasing him in bed.... she was draining herself out - but all her efforts were going to a barren land. Not yielding any fruit. same way as her barren womb.

Would producing an heir change his feelings towards her? Or she would again be left aching for him? And would she even be able to produce an heir? Questions violently gyrated inside her like a tornado. It had been six months since the doctors appointment and even after taking the medicines regularly, there was no result. Maybe she was barren, empty, unworthy. She looked down the balcony. Will this agony end if she just take a leap? Her eyes were fixed at the land 20 feet below her.

“Liv” - Liam called out to her. Olivia felt as if she woke up from a trance. She turned and saw Liam standing at the door. She ran to him and wrapped him in a tight hug, burring her head in his neck.

Liam gently wrapped her in a hug,”Are you okay?” he asked. She just nodded without lifting her head. “You seemed lost there” he asked again.

She didn’t reply. But gently pulled away. She started to walk away from him, but Liam grabbed her by her wrist. “Something is bothering you, Liv” he asked, “dont want to share it with me?”  

“There is nothing, really.” Olivia said looking in his eyes. Her gaze as fierce as ever. But Liam could see the pain covered behind the strong exterior. He however decided it is best to let go of topic. 

“Liv, I was thinking that we should visit Lythikos for this weekend.” He was glad that he came up with the idea, because he saw a spark in her eyes as soon as she heard Lythikos. Her entire body relaxed and a smile spread on her face.

“Lythikos?” she asked.

“Yes, you haven't been to Lythikos since our wedding, and we can spend some time together. “ he suggested.

The two thing she loved - Lythikos and Liam - together for a weekend, what more could she ask for. “That’s brilliant idea” the scarlet duchess beamed - for a fraction of a second Liam saw the innocence of the young Olivia on the duchesses’ face.

“ I am going to make the arrangements” she kissed Liam on his cheek and rushed out, Liam chuckled looking at her. He was really glad he could make her forget about whatever was bothering her, even if for just some time.

---

Now

“They will be here any minute” Hana told Riley.

“He should have been here an hour ago.” Riley said firmly. “Press is waiting. We need to make a statement.” she walked out of the parlor of the hotel where the press conference was organized. Hana had already received a call from Liam informing that they have landed in Valtoria about two hours ago. He should have reached the press conference an hour ago, but there was no sign of him. Riley had continued with her schedule as if not caring about his arrival. But Hana knew that every news of Drake had effected her deeply. The last month had not been easy for Riley and Hana was not sure if Drake’s presence would mean for Riley.    

Hana looked at her pleadingly. “Please wait for five minutes?”

“Even if he reaches here in five minutes, do you think he will be able to solve all problems?” Riley asked, “He is not Drake anymore, accept that.” She said and strode towards the press conference room.

She opened the room and took her place on the dais on the stage. She felt her heart beating fast in her chest. You can do it - She reassured herself. It was not new for her to face press for some controversy. But this was the first time Drake was not by her side. A simple lip curl on Drake’s face when she would look at him for support used to increase her confidence ten fold.  

As she had sensed, the press had noted Duke’s absence. A murmur was going around the room that was hard to miss. Cameras started flashing. Riley raised a hand to silence the reporters. “Thank you for coming” She smiled at them confidently.

“I am here to let the land owners know that we have heard their concerns ” She knew she needs to be on point, and not let media control the narrative.” I want them to know that we are with them. We value them. We will not do any injustice with them. We have made sure that all land owners  gets same area of land that they are donating or ...”

“Would you say they are donating? land owners feel like you are snatching the lands from them” a reporter interrupted her.

Riley stammered for a moment, but took a deep breath and continued,”The Dam is being built for the betterment of entire duchy. In fact, it will also benefit neighboring duchy. We need some land to create reservoir. We have planned the location so that it benefits the most...”

“But it was Sir Drake’s plan. Where is he? Shouldn’t he be answering us?” Another reporter interrupted her. This was the first time reporters were interrupting her. She hadn't expected such hostile behavior.

Riley felt her throat choke up. She took a sip from the water from the glass placed in front of her, and said,” He is away for an important work...”

“Is it true that he is away since a month?”  another reporter asked. “Are you pregnant?” a voice asked from another corner. “Are you two separated?” another question was fired at her from somewhere else.

Soon all the reporters started firing questions from all directions to her. She found her voice choked up in her throat. She raised her hand to ask them to stop , but the situation was already out of hand.  Hana ran to front and took a mic to ask the reporters to calm down. Their questions had now been replaced by a strange murmur discussing the rumors they had heard.A wave of panic rushed over Riley. The media hadn't been her friend last month and she had realized it long before today. But today the reality was staring her in her face. And she was proving to be weak.  Suddenly the room fell silent. Riley looked up to see all eyes fixed to the door behind her.

She turned to see Drake entering the room. He had dressed up in a suit. His long hair gelled and combed neatly. He walked confidently to the stage  Her heart started beating hard in her chest. She felt an urge to run to him and wrap him in a hug, to kiss him, feel his warmth. But she sat froze looking at him, gripping the chair to prevent herself from acting on the urge. Their eyes met for a brief moment. As soon as their eyes meet, Drake looked down, hesitant to meet her gaze. Within a fraction of second, he caught himself and fixed his eyes on the swarm of reporters and photographers who all had stood up by now.

Cameras were flashing all around. Capturing each movement of Drake. He was prepared for this. He strode to the desk with confidence. He adjusted his suit before taking a seat next to Riley. He gestured to the reporters to settle down.

“I understand that there are many questions that you need answers for.” He began calmly. He was trying his best to stay stoic and confident, but Riley saw his feet shaking below the table. She knew how hard this could be for him. Instinctively she placed a hand on his knee. Drake turned to look at her. This small gesture was enough for him to boost his confidence. He smiled thankfully at her. She gave a reassuring smile in return before gently moving her hand back.

“However, today we dont want to answer any questions. There are few things that needs to be said.” Drake returned his focus back to the crowd in front of them. He made sure his voice is firm and calm. Liam had made him practice this a hundred times in the flight back. “First, Riley will complete what she has to say” He looked at his beautiful wife sitting next to him. Riley nodded to him and started addressing the crowd before her. She explained the reporters how they are going to address the issues before them. No one interrupted her now. They seemed least interested in the land owners protest. They were here to know about Drake. And now when he was here, they didn't had many questions left.

Riley completed her speech with confidence. Drake looked at her through the entire speech mesmerized by her. They way she spoke with confidence and compassion, addressing all concerns of land owners one by one, made Drake look at her with new found respect. 

“I assure you that we are going to discuss the concerns with each individual landowner to make sure that none of them face any kind of injustice. “ She  said concluding her speech.”We have always stood by our people and will continue to do so. Thank you. I believe that you will continue to put your trust in us.” Riley had decided that as soon as she delivered the speech, she would leave. As she didn't want to answer any further questions. Her eyes met with Drake’s before she stood up to leave. But Drake immediately stood up to stop her, wrapping an arm around her waist.”Just a min,” he smiled looking at the reporters. “We have an important announcement to make”. 

This sudden gesture of Drake again caused a turmoil inside of Riley.

“We are so happy to announce this....” Drake smiled proudly,” we are expecting a baby.” He gently placed his hand on her belly. Riley felt her body tearing apart. Half of her body wanted to run away from him, but half of her wanted him to envelop in his arms. She realized her shocked face is being photographed from all angles. She forced a smile and posed for the cameras. She knew this was going on the covers of all news papers and magazines tomorrow and in an hour on all social media. By now, she had mastered the art of disguising all her emotions in front of media. 

“Thank you everyone” Drake waved to everyone. And gently escorted Riley away. Riley walked beside him wordlessly to the car. As soon as they sat in car, Riley shifted to side , keeping a distance between her and Drake. Drake too couldn't muster the courage to talk to her in front of the driver or the security.

---

After a very silent drive, Drake and Riley reached their estate with Hana. As soon as the car stopped, Riley stepped out of the car and stormed inside. Drake and Hana ran after her.

“Riley, please wait” Hana called out to Riley. But she didn't stop.

“Riley, please listen to me.” Drake called out to her. Riley stopped and turned to look at him. Tears running down her face.

“Don’t you think it is a little too late to talk?” she said clenching her teeth.

“Riley , please calm down” Hana ran to her to place a hand on her shoulder.

“I understand your anger. I am sorry Riley. I really..” Drake took a tentative step towards her.

“Oh! so now you are sorry?” Riley’s could not control her anger any longer,”And what? You expect me to forgive you?.”  She took two steps towards Drake as if challenging him.

“Drake, please. Lets talk later.” Hana pleaded. Drake read the fear in Hana’s eyes.

“Yes, I guess we should talk later.” he said.

“No,” Riley said, her body shaking in anger,”You said you wanted to talk. so talk. I am listening.” Tears kept streaming down her red eyes, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. “Tell me why did you left? Without a word.”

“Riley, I am really sorry, please calm down.” he tentatively took steps towards her. Riley raised her hand to stop him. “Don’t come near me.”  Riley took a step away from him stumbling a little. “How dare you come back as if nothing happened? Announce my pregnancy? Without even consenting with me...”

Riley paused, as if to compose herself.

“Riley....” Drake started to say something, but realized that Riley was loosing her balance. “Riley!” he shouted before rushing to catch her just in time before she fell. 

A panic washed over as he saw her lying unconscious in his arms. “Riley!”,

Hana rushed to kneel down beside Drake. “Hana, bring some water.” Hana nodded and rushed to get some water.

“Riley”, Drake patted her cheek repeatedly to wake her up. “Please wake up!” he pleaded.

---

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Pixelberry.

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[arpitsrivstva]

A late night talk with my father

Tonight, as there is a construction work happening at my house, I got to have a chat with the person whom I dont really like much. It’s such a thing that when you have no choice but to pass the time together, you talk and then you feel good about each other. Well, maybe he felt good about me, coz I was not very much responsive. Though, as I do, I asked him questions and sparked him with a topic on which we could start a talk together. Coz, I know, if the person is elder to you, he would be having a lot of experience that will take years for you to build, so keep on understanding, observing and questioning. That’s why parents are parents, I mean, the ultimate guide of life. Mostly they guide us in the starting phase of our lives and then we think that we then know everything and could take our life further alone and chase our dreams or whatever (which only few people do). But the truth is the truth. You will always be behind them in life experience coz they have seen things more than you. I think there is no generation gap, there is always a conversation gap! I know I know I previously dissed about him in my previous blog but it was not like I hate him or something, I was telling ya the flaws of this old guy and why he can be a pain in the ass sometimes in my life, haha. We have had these types of conversations before, anyways, many a times, okay, at least a few times but, this one made me think about something which I wanted to blog about.

So we were talking about the construction, our neighbours, social stuff. But then we came onto a better and more thoughtful topic, seeing two to three electricity meters in every houses nearby as we were having a walk. We started talking about how nowadays every family was just splitting up, getting nuclear, including my family (It is a disaster). Personally, I love when I imagine being in a joint family but I can only imagine. What there’s not to imagine, is the hatred and jealousy and arguments which takes place often in my home - and again, I can’t do anything about it - messed up minds. The splitting and everything, in my concern and thoughts, causes the children to get very conserved and become introverts and lacking social skills. If you think about it deeply, as I did, I think you would agree with me, and maybe even you come up with more things related to this or the causes of it and the consequences as I am talking about. First of all, you think many times before talking to your own family members and if there’s a child - the biggest loss is of his. He is losing half or more of his family, for god’s sake. And all the fighting and arguments and all are ofcourse complementary. I read a thing, today itself, about why there are age restrictions to many things, it is, because a child’s mind is at developing phase till the age of around 20. And whatever he/she sees, experiences and observes and is taught, they absorb it real quick and apply in their life and become like that in the future, and all of these things take up a big part of his/her thoughts and affects the future life. For me, I see people getting weirder and weirder day by day, especially the younger ones(Or am I getting only those types of... It is a matter of concern then, dont laugh!). But I, as an optimist, think that we will improve, and like me, other people are also realizing things and will implement in their life in such a way that everything will get better and better. I have a big hope for the next and future generation youngsters. I think it will be great:)

I think if I talk about the causes of family splitting - I mean, ofcourse as we all know, splitting means splitting of the kids. The off-springs of the elderly (head of the family). And mostly, they are more than one. The general reason as we all know, is that they dont get to like each other as they grow up (conversation gap). But why? - The thing is, they dont have that mutual understanding nor they want to tolerate each other’s flaws, anymore. They just want no one to interfere and face no issues in the future and live with the ones whom they like. Well, everybody wants that. Some compromise and some don’t. Compromising is pretty rare though. So these things are what my father told me about what he saw in his life and the splitting. He ended up this convo with a question, saying - Why people want solitude over family! I said to myself - parents’ mistake? And I think yes, it is - bad parenting!. It is the duty of the particular parent who is of those children to grow them up in such a manner that they understand the value of UNITY and never lack RESPECT towards each other. They should take action from the first day of them arguing except debating on a particular subject when they are adults. Coz before that, they are just kids. But dont wait for the time to make them understand in such a way, that their age for making them explain something goes away with their attitude. Keepin’ them under control would be becoming strict, but the thing I think they should do is always being the only head of the house taking any decisions with the kids’ agreement too. They should make the children feeling involved TOGETHER in stuff they should be and trigger their thought process together making them realize in which particular field or area the other sibling is lacking or is compatible to be through. I hope I am making sense. They should keep an attitude towards their children and be in a way that they should feel the importance of a parent and why you are one! Arise true love between the children and make them understand to work together and make strong long lasting memories together. The only thing important I am emphasizing which lacks, is respect. The younger sibling never realizes what things the older one has done for them when they were kids (rude and ill-mannered) and on the other hand, the older one can’t find the reason why he/she should do anything for the younger one as he is never credited and respected (ego). And many other things. I am telling it my way whatever I think, but I am also just a 21 year old kid. Sometimes just an incident is enough to break everything apart. But everyone should have that courage and realization to say sorry for their mistake instead of feeling sorry or that big ego on their chest for the rest of their lives living alone. I will be a little biased for the elder siblings coz I am one of them and I think it’s always the younger ones who are the crooked ones. Not payed much attention, you know, because they are always young for our parents as compared to us.

Of all the things, I think even living under the same roof, we should everyone their own space and respect it. Just eating quietly together (without any fucking TV) can make everything enjoyable and let forget the illness of a relationship. Living together has more benefits obviously. And anyway, the kids will have a way better childhood with more people to love them plus the many company he will have which will keep him busy. All my life, until now, I have seen just happiness and joy with a lot of fun when I see the families in which all of them adjust and live together and celebrate everything conjunctively, with fighting every coming problems and situations in their lives among themselves. After all, life is short and there are not many good people we meet outside who will know about us as good as our family members in our entire life. And money and anything, can’t give us that feeling and that pure careless and childish joy which a single family member can, because our past is connected with each other and there are not many things to hide and be ashamed of, coz its our family - they have to be with us anyways, accepting us forever, with our mistakes, coz its our family, and they have no choice:)

It could be so much fun!

And ya there’s one more thing I would like to say - every member is mostly different from other in a family and that uniqueness makes it better. We might not understand the value of family in the present, but there would be a day in our life, later, when we will, but then it might be too late (like we say about the importance of education and studying). So, keep a little patience and chill. The ones who have matured enough to understand life in the prime time, always have a benefit but ones who are not, will always lack something and so, they should always look out and reach out!

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Family (Alec Volturi x Reader x Jane Volturi)

Facing those who would kill you was terrifying. Death was just as frightening, if not more since yours would always be prolonged. If you were lucky, it would never come. Looking back on all of you centuries, you still weren’t ready. However it was fitting. Carlisle Cullen saved your life once. Dying for him seemed to be a good repayment. 

The Volturi dispersed, spreading into a long line, making all of their assets known. You felt the slight breeze through your hair, eyeing every last one of them. Two of them, the witch twins- they seemed shocked, eyes wide and stiff...eyes on you. The two took a few steps forward, breaking the formation. Aro, Caius and eventually Marcus turning to look at the two of them.  “Jane? Alec?”  “It can’t be.” Jane said under her breath, the only way she can muster out words. Alec swallowed. You shifted slightly, looking to Carlisle for a moment, uncertain of what to do. ‘What are they thinking?’ You thought to yourself. You exchanged a look with Edward and the other covens around you before back at the twins. ‘What are they thinking?’  “(Y/N)?” Jane finally called out. You were surprised she knew your name.  “Yes?”  “(Y/N), did you have any family?” Edward asked quickly. “I don’t remember.” You shook your head. “I don’t remember anything about my human life.” The twins looked at one another. "What?" You asked yet we're scared to know the answer. "They forgot us." Jane turned to her twin who's jaw was stiff. "What do you mean?" You looked around questioningly. "(Y/N)...they're your blood relatives. Your brother and sister." Edward said carefully, as though it would cushion the blow. "Come." Jane demanded. "No!" You said just as quickly. Jane repeated her request stepping forward and you stepped back, no amount of distance being enough. "(Y/N), i ask that you do not stand against the Volturi. Trust me when I say we don't want to fight you." Alec said suddenly much closer, taking a huge risk by being out of Volturi bounds. "How could I ever trust you?" You asked shakily, aware of every move Alec made and for that matter the lack of movement that screamed inhuman. "Because i’m your brother." He stared into your eyes as he said so. "(Y/N), leave." Carlisle said quietly. You turned to him in protest which he spoke over immediately, not caring to hear it. "Go. Trust me." You hated the prospect of leaving but you did as Carlisle asked, heading back to the Cullen house and waited for something to happen. 

You waited for what felt like an eternity before you were relieved to see the Cullen's and the covens return. No amount of mental preparation could help you with this. The two most deadliest vampires in existence claimed to be your blood relatives. Them remembering you, even Edward confirming it but you not remembering a thing. "Carlisle, what do I do?" You said immediately. "Nothing for now. Not until you're ready." 

A few days passed and the Cullen's went hunting after their friends left. Benjamin was the one to take your hand and give you words of reassurance before bidding his fair well. It made you wish he'd come back. You however, weren't hungry and so you stayed behind. You didn't stay inside though, you went out into the trees outside the house, needing the fresh air. That was when a scent hit you, an unfamiliar one. You opened your eyes and nearly gasped. Jane stood alone, hands by her sides with a stoic look, eyes boring into you. "Jane..." "Hello, (Y/N)." "I thought you left." She shook her head. "Not until we speak with you." "About what?" You felt fear, relentless waves of fear though not wanting to show it. Jane, however, seemed to notice. "You're afraid of us." She said simply. "As I should be." You responded. "No. You shouldn't be." "You've given me no reason not to." "Nor have i given you a reason to fear me. I haven't hurt you." She had you there but you couldn't pretend you'd be an exception. That's like putting your leg in a bear trap whilst hoping it wouldn't bite down.  “Is this some sort of trick?” You suddenly asked. “Are you really related to me?”  “Of course, it’s not. My brother and I remember you very well. It’s sad that you cannot say the same.”  “Tell me, tell me everything.”  “Let’s talk inside.” Jane suggested.  “I’ll tell you everything you want to know there.” 

You sat at opposite sides of the table. You waited for Jane to talk. She stared back at you for a moment before speaking. She looked slightly uncomfortable, clearly she didn’t talk about this.  “You were younger than us by a few years. None of the children back then even laid a finger on you. My brother and I made sure of that. We kept our distance publicly, trying to save you from some of the trouble but we always made sure to make it up to you at home.” Jane could remember one particular memory well. 

The same group of children who tormented the twins, were now bothering you for being related to them. You were much smaller, too young to understand fully just why these children were being so cruel. Before they could rough you around, a stone collided with one of the children’s heads, the ring leader of the group. He yelped, rubbing the side of his head and looking to see where it came from. Alec stood on the hill, armed with another stone, ready to throw it.  “Leave them alone!” Jane stormed up to the group, leaving her brothers side. The group took off running, leaving you in a heap on the forest floor. Jane took both of your hands, pulling you up and dusting you off. “Are you okay?”  “mmhmm.” You nodded, holding back tears. Jane looked you over before looking up at Alec in the distance and you followed suit. 

Alec was clearly bothered by the scene. He was your older brother after all, he had to protect you more than anyone else did. He felt like he had failed you in that moment. 

She even remembered how you’d walk in between them, each of your smaller hands in theirs. Seeing you had grown since the last time she’s seen you. You weren’t the younger sibling she remembered but that was better than losing you all together as she thought she had before. “You never let what the village said about us sway your judgement of us. It really was unconditional love at its finest. Losing that after our change...that was difficult.” You had never seen Jane so emotional. “I don’t know where you were that night..the night of the...” Jane trailed off. She must have meant the stake.  “We thought you were dead.” Jane’s expression suddenly hardened. “Though when we saw you, Aro had no other choice than to tell the truth.”  “The truth?” You repeated. “You survived, that night. Our father came for you, mother died and he believed we did so too. That was it for a year or two, but Aro returned for you.”  “For me? Why?” Jane continued. “He wanted to know if you’d have a gift like we did. So he changed you when our father left. He came home to find his remaining child gone. You didn’t so he left you behind.” You looked horrified. “And you’re okay with that?” Jane thought for a moment. “I know Aro and he isn’t known for his generosity. I feel no need to challenge him for it. You ended up fine in the end.” You were about to snap at her when you suddenly remembered Chelsea. She had the ability to manipulate relationships, she clearly had her hooks on the twins just as much as everybody else.  “So what made you come here then? If it really doesn’t change much of your stance, why bother coming to speak to me?”  “Because my brother and I dont want you to be afraid of us, anyone but you.” She paused, almost hesitant to finish. “Also because I missed you.” You looked up at her sharply. “My brother and I, we missed you.” You couldn’t respond, and you couldn’t help but believe her. 

You were both torn out of the moment to hear footsteps approaching. Surely they hadn’t come back so early?Then it hit you. Edward. Sure enough, Edwards scent hit. You looked to Jane alarmed before gesturing for her to follow you. Edward was going to go through the front, Jane would be going out the back. Seeing this Jane looked at you in surprise. “If you’re really my sister then why would i let you be caught?” You caught the glimmer in her eyes. An honest glimmer of hope.

Once she had gone, you returned into the room just as Edward entered. Jane’s scent hit his nostrils and he growled. “Who was here?” “No one.” “Dont lie! You’re actively not thinking about it so that I don’t find out. Who was here!?” “No one, Edward.” You said through a stiff jaw. “drop it.” “I can’t. I have a family now-” “enough!” You interrupted loudly. “If you insist, take it up with Carlisle.” You walked away not thinking about what transpired until Edward was well and truly gone and back at his cottage. You and Edward never really saw eye to eye. Whilst you both liked one another, you had different opinions on a lot of things. Ever since Bella had come into the picture and more recently, Renesmee, you barely seemed to agree on anything anymore. You didn’t want to talk to him about this. He’d have nothing really of value to say. Of course Edward did exactly that. Not only did he take it up with Carlisle, he let him not he was not happy. You leaned against the door frame to Carlisle’s office with the whole right side of your body, including your head. “You know what im about to talk to you about don’t you?” You slowly nodded. “Was Jane here?” “Yup.” You nodded. Edward wasn’t here so he didn’t hear it. You’d never admit it to him. “Why wouldn’t you tell Edward?” “Because he doesn’t get to know.” You said flatly. “Its none of his business. It’s yours.” “He’s family.” Carlisle said with ease. “You’re the leader of the coven. It’s your house. He knew the situation wasn’t about him. He was just whining for the sake of whining.” “He’s family.” Carlisle repeated. “Not mine.” You shot back. “Yes, you both like to play that card but he’s my son, just as much as you’re my family. Whether you’re in my coven or not.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. You had a lot of respect for Carlisle and for him to consider you family was uplifting. “She doesn’t want me to be afraid of her.” You said finally after a moment of silence. “Jane?” Carlisle asked and you nodded. “And Alec. She came to tell me that they don’t want me to fear them. She told me bits and pieces of my childhood.” “That’s good. It’s nice to hear they remember some of their human life.” “Haven’t they always?” Carlisle leaned back in his chair. “Yes, but they were very private. Aro told me most of their memories were foggy or just non-existent. Though there were ones they could focus enough on and remember like they had just happened. It takes them some time but some of their human life stays with them.” “Aro changed his mind about me. He saw that I didn’t have a gift like them and left me behind.” You mumbled. “It could be possible Eleazar was around at that time? I can’t say for sure I’m afraid. Though I wouldn’t let it upset you too much.” “It’s not that.” You shook your head. “Its that my own brother and sister, if that’s what they are, are still loyal to him knowing that I might have been alive. Even after all this time. They never even seemed to check if I survived the change.” “They can’t change that and neither can you. Now it’s all about what you want to do.” You shrunk into yourself slightly at the question. “I…I don’t know what I should do.” Carlisle tilted his head slightly. “That’s a very particular sentence.” “Well, what I want to do may be very different as to what I should do. The only problem is I don’t know what I should do.” “But you know what you want to do.” Carlisle nodded to you. You leaned off the frame to sit on the opposite seat from his desk. “This time last week, I was the only one in my biological family. Now I have a brother and a sister who want to know me but are the deadliest beings to ever walk the earth. "Would you like to see them again? I can contact the Volturi for you (Y/N). You can meet them.” “You… you’d do that?” “Of course. I’m sure we can all put our issues aside.” They did. It took a while but they gave you a date and time. 

It was month later and now that the time had come, you felt nerves bubble inside you. What were you going to say? Only the orange-pink haze in the distance was left of the sunset. The meeting place was an old campsite area that was used back in the fifties. You’d have to pass it to get to the cliff at La Push, though that was wolf territory and you all stayed well clear of that. Somehow it didn’t seem real until you saw the twins with their backs turned to you, listening to Aro. Aro looked over them and nodded at you. 

The twins turned and shock hit you again. This was really happening. Jane was the first to step forward, seeming surprised to see you too. “You wanted to see us?” Alec asked lightly. You had never heard Alec be so kind in his tone. Though he wasn’t speaking to anyone. He was speaking to his younger sibling. The one he thought he had lost. You remembered Jane’s story, which had seemingly been one of many. You acted before you thought. You walked up to Alec and immediately pulled him into a hug. He seemed surprised by the action. Both twins did. You didn’t know what to say to them. Instead you only held him tighter. 

You barely felt it first but you grew to notice Alec’s hand press against your back, moving slightly to return your hug. All of the memories gone, more years than you could count had passed. You wanted to make up for it. Even if it took eternity. You reached out in Jane’s direction. “Jane, I swear if you don’t get into this hug-” Jane smirked slightly as you grabbed her, wrapping your arms around both Alec and Jane as much as you could. “This feels terrible.” You mumbled. “You’re fault. You dragged me into this side.” Jane forced you to break her hold on you to walk over to your back and hug you from behind. “Don’t tell anyone we ever gave you a hug, or we’ll kill you.” Jane mumbled into your back, squeezing you slightly. “Don’t get used to it either.” Alec added. “Yeah, yeah, you’re still scary.” You rolled your eyes.

[normal-thoughts-official]

*breakdances softly* Thoughts on florist Magnus and tattoo artist Alec?

*waltzes aggressively* well i definitely do now

okay so like i am vaguely aware that you probably wanted me to actually create a story like i did for the other asks;

because listen, florist Magnus???????? i had never thought about it before, but that shit is THE BOMB

in indonesia, particularly Bali, flowers hold special significance both in the social and religious sense; they have meaning, they have history, and they have everyday uses and are a part of everyday life; people grow flowers at home, give them as gifts, have entire markets entirely dedicated to the trade of flowers. and yes, i know magnus is javanese, but this applies to pretty much all of Indonesia, including Java, and Jakarta has its own traditional flower market with flowers from all over the world and some of the sellers being in the business since the 60s, not to mention that many balinese ppl immigrated to Java and the two islands' histories are deeply connected. so nothing is even stopping me from believing that magnus' mom was a balinese migrant living in Java. which is exactly what im gonna do in this specific AU at least

So Magnus was actually born in Indonesia, where he lived for most of his childhood; until his mom suddenly died of a terrible disease and he was kind of thrown into living with his father, who, despite having him registered and being his legal guardian, had never so much as bothered to meet Magnus before this point

His father was also Indonesian but had long since moved to the US, so magnus' life was completely turned upside down. And despite providing financially for everything Magnus needed, asmodeus never really bothered with him beyond the basics; Magnus was pretty much self-raised

So for the whole time he lived with him, he ached with memories of his mom and his country. And what he remembered best about her was the flowers. The jasmines she used to grow at home, the unique smell they left on the water she used to wash his hair; the offerings of frangipani she would leave by their doorstep everyday, intricately sewn together and leaving the smell of both the flowers and the incense with them as they left to the ports; the flower boards she would give him on his birthday, different patterns every year, and somehow she would always find plywood and tahi cotok to make them the traditional way instead of the modern with styrofoam

Magnus refuses to let any of these traditions die; once he finally graduates and leaves his father's home (forever disappointing him in his refusal to take over his business) he dedicates almost all of the space in his home to a greenhouse where he can grow all of the indigenous indonesian flower species without worrying that they will die in the distinctly not-tropical climate of New York; he leaves offerings in his doorstep everyday, facing North for Vishnu, so as to bring harmony not only in his life but in his whole community as well. And he's a florist.

He knows both traditional indonesian flower meanings, and western flower language, and often mixes the two since the flowers in these cultures are so different. He makes bouquets, arrangements, and flower boards, keeping the tradition alive even when he's far away from home. This way he feels like he belongs, like he carries a piece of his mother with him everyday, and reminds himself that, even if he's been taken away from his home, it won't be taken away from him

It's pretty much only him in his shop, but his friend Dot also makes deliveries and helps him keep the shop running. He has a few regulars and all in all he lives a stable, happy life.

He meets Alec when he decides to make his first tattoo - a string of jasmines around his elbow, the national flowers of indonesia and also his mom's favorite. He chooses Alec both because of his mesmerising drawing style and his history of working and good recommendations from other dark-skinned people; his friend Catarina also tattooed at his shop, although with his sister, Izzy, who was the one who actually ran the shop

Alec is impressed by how well Magnus handles the pain; it's his very first tattoo and elbows are a bitch. Magnus doesn't tell him that after living with his father for so long he's used to the pain, but he does tell him about the meaning of the tattoo, the flowers, and his mom. He's surprised by how much he's saying to this guy he barely knows, but there's something about wanting to be distracted from the sting and having to be alone with this guy for who knows how many hours that keeps him talking. Alec listens to it quietly, focused on his work, and Magnus isn't even sure if he's actually listening, which kind of also works if he's being honest. Of course, Alec is; listening to Magnus talk is very nice, his voice is soothing and the way he talks about his mom and his passion for flowers is really touching, not to mention Magnus is just interesting; alluring, if you will. But he doesn't have much to add, so he listens

A few days later, Alec shows up at Magnus' shop, all private smiles and wandering eyes, and asks him for help with a birthday present for Izzy. He wants to make her something special, to thank her for her support when he came out and just support in general. It surprises Magnus, but Alec says that Izzy has always liked flowers and from the way Magnus was talking about it the other day, well, he seemed like a good person to help him with this present. He really wanted something to convey his gratitude

Magnus is pleasantly surprised that Alec remembers so much of what he said; even more so when he's careful not to step on Magnus' canang sari at the doorstep, with the incense still burning; and he's absolutely delighted when Alec says he wants Magnus to help him make an arrangement, not just make himself, and that he's willing to pay extra for his consulting (Magnus has never charged extra for consulting, because he really downplays his talent and work and loves sharing his knowledge; but it does feel nice to be valued and have his work acknowledged). So Magnus runs all of his ideas by him, shows him the flowers, and Alec carefully handles and smells them and listens to Magnus' suggestions and slowly makes his own based on what Magnus has been saying. Alec shows respect to the flowers and it's cute to see this big, buffy guy covered in weird tattoos and wearing a leather jacket going around and carefully handling the flowers Magnus grows.

Alec, on the other hand, is just fascinated by everything Magnus says and shows him, and his burning passion for what he does, and how clearly he likes to help people even if it means downplaying his own work

Wow this is actually starting to resemble a plot??? I'm shook

Anyway it takes them a long while to figure out what they want to do, and Alec actually ends up deciding on making izzy a flower board once Magnus mentions them offhandedly. Once Magnus assures him it's not offensive if he makes them with the proper care and respect for its meaning, they settle on working on that.

Listen I need excuses for them to interact okay. Also the idea of Magnus teaching Alec how to sew flowers???? Beautiful

Cue some gay shit, at least once Alec puts a flower behind Magnus' ear and tells him that it suits him, more often than not they find themselves having a lot of fun - Magnus teases him mercilessly over how bad at sewing he is, and Alec is deeply offended (except not really)

Once he even tries to challenge Magnus at doing something from Alec's element and see how well he does, only to be sent into the deepest despair when it turns out magnus is excellent at drawing

Magnus thinks he hears a muttered "of course" but he cant be too sure

Anyway they fall in love

Alec asks him out by making him a bouquet of magnus' favorite flowers, plus flowers that symbolize everything he loves the most about him (his uniqueness, his kindness, his fierceness, his determination in doing what he thinks is right, the joy he brings for everyone around him, his dedication to others, etc). Magnus all but swoons he is very charmed

They get married idk it always ends with them getting married when i have a say in it. Bonus points they get to be showered in flowers like in traditional indonesian weddings, which sends a very happy, very giggly magnus with petals still on his hair into absolute delight. Alec carries him bridal style to the bed and carefully takes the flowers off his hair and kisses him tenderly on their honeymoon and gggggggggggggggg.

Im gay and cant do this anymore im gonna get into a coma

Also, I will take this opportunity to just let it be known that y'all should feel absolutely free to take any and all of my posts as writing prompts; you dont need to ask for my permission to use the ideas, theres no way ill actually do them all and even if i do i dont mind that there are different versions of it going around; hell, i think that's amazing and exactly what fandom is for. Just link the post and if possible send me the fic because i'd be delighted to read it! What I'm trying to say here is, someone should write this

Also, I'm not hindu, so if any terms I've used are offensive or incorrect please let me know and I'll change it accordingly

[gwoongi]

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 ✰ taehyung (7)

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 kim taehyung / reader genre: zombie apocalypse au words: 4228

It felt shit to feel thankful of someone’s screaming. Mostly, Taehyung was happy it was them and not him.

a/n: funny story, i submitted this chapter as part of my creative writing portfolio and the prestige uni i sent it off to loved it and accepted me :D hopefully thats a nice indication on whether or not this is good :S

warnings: extremely graphic content, sexual pain, graphic torture, gore, violence, death, Humans Suck

01. denver ↝ 02. holiday with me ↝ 03. sad forever ↝ 04. surely ↝ 05.scorpion ↝ 06. shakespeare ↝ 07. thrones ↝ 08. moon motel

The group leave the trailer park three days later.

Bundling everything of use into the back of the truck, which seemed darker in colour since the last time it was used, you had found you enjoyed leaving more than you did settling in. Packing everything into correct places had always been such a bore, even at a young age. You remembered when you were eight, and moving in to your grandparents’ home in the outskirts of Denver. Was this really Denver? It was a small town, barely noticeable amongst the cluster of trees and ferns, but nonetheless peaceful, ‘perfect for a new place to start fresh’. Yeah, it only took around an hour and a half to get to school every-day, but don’t worry, it’s a fucking perfect place to live, aged eight, as an orphan. It took you around eleven months to finish emptying each box.

But four years ago, throwing everything into a backpack and into the boot of a car you nicked from down the road, it had been so easy. It was so easy to throw everything out and keep what you really needed. Easy to forget to pack a jacket you had been given for Christmas off an aunt you barely knew, easy to remember to pack all the knives out of the kitchen and the forbidden gun your grandfather used to hunt deer in the winter. It was rather symbolic- pretending people were deers as you shot them between the eyes.

“That everything?”

Namjoon stood, risen off the ground, his hand on the bar of the roof of the truck. Taehyung stepped down the plastic steps from the trailer, not bothering to lock the door, knowing nothing in there was of any value. At one point, the rainbow-glassed fruit bowl might have been of value, sentimental value or something. Now, it was worthless, with a lightning bolt crack down the middle.

“Yeah, good to go,” Taehyung replied, hovering when you climbed into the back to join Kyungmin. He waited, not knowing what for, only mildly embarrassed when you turned to see him staring. “You okay?”

You nodded once with a smile. “Mm. Are you?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I-”

Somehow, he hadn’t realised you shuffle to the open back doors to pull him in for a simple kiss. It was that quick and simple that he almost missed it. His eyes opened to the sight of you in front of him, your hands holding his face, rubbing the stubble around his jaw.

“You’re holding us all up, you know.”

“You’re holding me up,” he muttered, peeling your hands off his face and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, somehow finding the strength to let go and at the same time, make his way to the front of the truck. The whole vehicle shook as you pulled the back doors closed, submerging Kyungmin and yourself in familiar darkness.

“You got a map anywhere?” Taehyung fuddled in the glove compartment as Namjoon started the truck up. He pulled out a worn map, the same one you had used to direct the both of you out of Denver. Namjoon didn’t care for the quality, muttering a hasty thanks and peeling it open, staring at the lines and faded colours. “Keep heading East, as if we’re going to Georgia. Hopefully, we’ll catch Seokjin and his crew of fans on the way there.”

“And if we don’t?” Taehyung asked. When Namjoon fell silent, Taehyung’s lips pulled into a tight frown, “I’m just asking for the future. You’re not coming to Georgia. We’re going. I wanna know what our plan is before we put ourselves in danger in the middle of nowhere.”

Very aware of the compartment slider down, Namjoon found it was difficult to pick a solution that would best suit everybody. Kyungmin wanted to stay with Taehyung and yourself, forgetting Korea entirely and heading straight for the islands off the coast. Namjoon knew you wanted to go to Georgia with everybody, hoping to stick together as a four, but if there was no other option, you’d go to find a plane. Taehyung wanted to get to Georgia with you, but wouldn’t be opposed to finding Seokjin. As for himself, Namjoon wanted to take the jeep to Virginia, leaving Taehyung and yourself on the road.

Everybody made tough calls. Those words echoed in his head. Above all else, Kyungmin was his priority.

“I wanna take the jeep,” Namjoon said slowly, aware of the frowns, “but I can help find a vehicle for you and Y/N to use to get to Georgia. When that happens...we’ll go our separate ways. Half to Virginia. Half to Georgia. Fair, and square.”

Kyungmin fell with a thud and a sigh in the back of the jeep, and Namjoon did his best to ignore it.

“Alright,” Taehyung agreed, believing there was no other way around it. As long as you and him were safe, he didn’t care how it happened. “Whatever you say goes.”

14TH MARCH, 5 YEARS AGO.

Jiyong: i’ll be round at like 7:30ish. lost my weed bag and i’m a junkie and cant leave without it

Y/N: i hope it kills you

Jiyong: watch me actually die

Jiyong: don’t cry at my funeral you fake friend

Y/N: KIDDING!!!!

Y/N: is...seunghyun coming

Jiyong: fuck off

Jiyong: hes banned from seeing you

Jiyong: i cant believe my best friend is fucking my other best friend

Y/N: i like to call it woohooing and we’re being safe

Jiyong: i cant believe this is happening

Jiyong: why seunghyun?????? why not youngbae he treats women nice

Y/N: idk!!! we just hit it off a lot

Jiyong: you’ve known him for like 5 minutes

Y/N: it’s literally been like 5 years but whatever

Y/N: can’t you just be happy for me? i’m living life getting laid being happy n shit

Jiyong: i respect it but i’m not coming to urs expecting to have fun watching goblet of fire for the millionth time only for you to give seunghyun a sweaty bj right in front of me

Y/N: that was one time Let It Go

Jiyong: one day i’m gonna fucking die and you’ll realise how badly you treated me

Y/N: stop you’re my best friend :-(

Y/N: what are you like jealous that im banging him and not you???? wanna join

Jiyong: yeah i’d literally rather fuck the girl from the ring

Y/N: kinky

[03:45am]

Jiyong: woah did you hear about the north korea shit

Y/N: im literally being pounded into Cant this wait

Jiyong: we’re gonna die because kim jongun wants to nuke us and all you care about is seunghyun’s 3 inches

Y/N: it’s just fake news dont worry about it

Y/N: how many times has he threatened nuclear war

Y/N: he should hurry up and do it before exams

Jiyong: just wanted to check up on you because ur nan is fucking mental and she’ll probably collapse tomorrow morning and panic buy loaves of bread

Y/N: stop omg

Jiyong: anyways stay safe love U please bring me my weed tomorrow morning me and Jennie are gonna get high and try anal

Y/N: sweet thanks

SOMETIME LATER.

Leaving the world behind through the back windows of the jeep, you were oddly reminded of the time you left everybody behind during a Summer many years ago. It had been a spur of the moment decision, something you never expected to do, but found yourself doing anyway.

It felt like a lifetime ago; you had almost forgotten about it, until now, until seeing a sign graffitied with a smiley face, reminding you of the “GRIME SIGN” back in your hometown, renowned for being the most graffitied sign in the city. Whether or not that's true, you never really found out. Seunghyun and Jiyong had come along too, for the moral support of being alone on the road. With Jiyong in shotgun and Seunghyun in the backseat, it had felt like something slap-bang out of a teenage coming-of-age movie, titled “3 delinquents on the road to God knows where”, directed by Quentin Tarantino. You didn’t even know how to drive. It was pure bliss.

“Any luck with the radio?”

Kyungmin rattling the small radio that had been picked up from the trailer park startled you, the memory of driving nowhere and everywhere at the same time suddenly gone like the wind. As your vision readjusted to the dark, you noticed that Kyungmin was pressing all the buttons and turning all the dials, a frown on her lips jutted outwards.

“Not yet,” she replied. “Just give me a few more minutes, I can probably get this thing working.”

Namjoon let out a soft curse, swerving the truck slightly to move around a left behind Volvo, the cars open like wings with a dried trail of dragged blood leading into the thick forest. Things like that were common accessories, famed like tourist attractions. Namjoon now thought of what the world was really like- could Paris be any worse than America? What was Iceland like these days?

“Nearly there, now,” Namjoon said vaguely, and Taehyung debated whether or not to reply, if there was even anything to reply with at all. That’s how things went now, short replies or simply none at all. When the world died, so did words. Namjoon thought that was funny, how the collapse of society could mean the collapse of communication and language.

“We’ll need to stop for gas,” Taehyung said, his voice barely above a third volume. From the back of the van, you sat with your face looking out towards the left behind road, your eyelids growing heavy at the sound of Kyungmin pressing buttons, and the hum of the van beneath your thighs. “We’re running on fumes.”

Namjoon grumbled a reply, mentioning something about a gas station a couple miles ahead, near the clearing in the woods, just off the road. It didn’t take long to approach, only around ten minutes if Taehyung were to count. At least three songs had played since then. Taehyung couldn’t believe he was now counting using songs.

The station was large, decaying and it looked unsafe. Taehyung didn’t exactly care about the safety of the building itself, just caring about how safe it would be in the long-run. Safe enough to hide inside? Safe enough to step inside? Safety in architectural design didn’t matter anymore. If it looked rusted, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Namjoon pulled the truck into the station, immediately noticing a few canisters of fuel that was left for the purpose of using, a sign reading “STAY SAFE” stood up, stuck with black masking tape. The letters were dripping onto the concrete, a small pool of chalky white near the drain where a plant was starting to sprout.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Kyungmin’s voice made you look over from the canisters, a wrinkle between your brows. She smiled, generously, and waited for your reply. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She was talking about the Great Escape the other day. You already knew that.

“Just curious,” she replied, the smile never wavering. “There’s not many people left in the world, you know. Next to Namjoon, you and Taehyung are all I have.”

A silence fell on the two of you, and all you could hear was the sound of Taehyung dragging a barrel across the gas station, dipping his head underneath a broken window and scanning the interior of the gas station.

“I’m here for you,” Kyungmin continued, her voice significantly quieter. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, and your hand came up to stroke her forearm, a smile on your lips. For a moment, it didn’t feel like the apocalypse. In that moment, it felt like two best friends, reunited after a Summer break, the pine trees isolating them from the world, a Studio Ghibli film, released 2019.

And yet Kyungmin moved away, her gaze lowered as she passed across the gas station to meet Namjoon, already lifting canisters of gas towards the car to refill. Taehyung had emerged once again, his bag refilled with cans and cigarette packets, surprisingly a bottle of liquor in his hands as he stepped back into the bitter wind. Inhaling a breath, Taehyung crossed the width of the station and opened the passenger door to the vehicle, setting down his bag and the bottle, as if they were small children.

“There’s no way we’re making it to Georgia on time.”

Taehyung paused, throwing you a look over his shoulder. “What?”

“Let’s think realistically,” you reasoned, tugging at the cloth over his elbow. Above all, you didn’t want Kyungmin to be upset if she overheard. “It’s been...how long? Since we left the warehouse? I haven’t exactly been keeping up with the dates, but it’s been too long, Tae. Normally, it takes less than 24 hours to get from where we are- wherever we are- to Georgia. And yet, we’re still not near. I’m just-” you sighed, raking your hands through your hair. In the dim light, the grease was visible. “I think we’re out of time.”

“Y/N, they’ll be there,” Taehyung said. He didn’t know what else to say, frowning, “I thought you wanted to remain optimistic?”

“I do, but I can’t afford to hope to get to Georgia and find them there. And what?” you continued. Your voice had raised slightly, not enough to make Kyungmin or Namjoon ask questions, but enough to make Taehyung’s nose cringe at the increase. “We get there, and find them. Is anything gonna be the same? What if we get there and they’re gone and there’s no boats? What if we get there and something happens to any one of us? Tae, I can’t have that on me. I can’t have that on my conscience. Not again.”

Not again. “Yena wasn’t your fault, Y/N, you have to know that-”

“I don’t fancy being out on the road all night.” Namjoon stepped into view from around the front of the van, his hands shoved into the pockets of his distressed jeans. “Thinking we keep driving, turn in when it gets dark to the first place we see.”

“Isn’t that a little risky?” Taehyung asked, mentally making a note to continue your conversation later. “I mean, we have to really check the place before we head in.”

Namjoon frowned. “I know that. But, Kyungmin’s feeling kinda travel sick, and I don’t wanna overdo it, you know? Nights like back at the trailer park...I want more of them.”

Already moving to the back of the van, you pulled open the double doors and slipped inside, keeping them open in time for Kyungmin to crawl in after you. Her skin was a shade of ivory, whiter than earlier, as if the sickness had come suddenly like a simulation glitch. Wasn’t that what you were now? A glitch? An error in coding.

Namjoon shut the drivers door, groaning at the loud sound.

“Hey, man, you okay to drive?” Taehyung asked quietly, looking over from shotgun. “Look, if you’re tired, we can switch the orders around.”

Namjoon looked over weakly- “You’re sure?”

Taehyung unbuckled his seatbelt, dumping his jacket in the footwell with a sniff of stuffy air. “I’d prefer if you slept if you’re tired. ‘Specially when they’re in the back. Don’t wanna hurt them.”

He made a sort of grunt as a reply, switching seats with the younger. When he was sat in the passenger seat instead of the drivers, he let his head lull back onto the windowpane, feeling the chilly glass cool the back of his head. It was as if resting his head had added extra weight to his eyes.

“‘m gonna drive straight-ish,” Taehyung said with his tongue between his lips, backing up the van slowly and carefully. Namjoon opened his eyes slightly, squinting.

“Can you drive?”

Taehyung changed gears. “Yes.” 

If Namjoon noticed that Taehyung paused, he didn’t mention it. In-fact, he closed his eyes again with a shrug, a half wriggle, resting his forehead against the glass, pushing towards the cool touch.

Taehyung had been driving for hours, for sure.

The time in the van was unlikely to be reliable, reading 5:19pm when the sky was as black as squid ink, the dim street-lights that somehow worked- probably solar - beckoning the group forward. In honesty, Taehyung had no idea how long it had been since the gas station, just long enough to give him a crick in his neck, the back of his thighs numbed. All things considering, Taehyung thought he was getting better at driving.

He flinched slightly as the divider to the back came sliding down, and your face popped out slightly, peering out the front window with sleepy eyes. If he had a free hand, Taehyung would have wiped the sleep from the corner of your eye, and he turned back to the road, oddly afraid of crashing the car with all four of you inside. Like yourself, he didn’t want that on his conscience. Like yourself, he couldn’t have it on his conscience, not again.

“Are we stopping soon?” you asked quietly. Namjoon shifted, making it known he wasn’t sleeping. He groaned, grinding the heel of his palm into his eyes, unbothered when dust and dirt smudged on his skin when he pulled away. He could look worse, he thinks.

“Nearly,” Taehyung replied. “I don’t know where to go from here. Last road was blocked, so, I’m trying to get out of here.”

Namjoon shifted, cracking his shoulder loudly. “You tried any back-streets?”

Instantly, Taehyung thought of the woman earlier in his trip. The way she screamed at the car, scratching at the rusty paint job, her eyes bloodshot and her skin a lime colour. He gulped the hot lump in his throat, “I’d rather avoid them.”

“It’s safer,” Namjoon continued. “Out of the way-”

Somewhere outside of the van, there was a loud crash, similar to the way you sound when you drop something at midnight when your parents are sleeping. The volume was loud, louder than anticipated, and Taehyung unintentionally stalled the van. Kyungmin jeered forward, hitting the underneath of her chin on the seats opposite, sending out a string of foreign curses to Taehyung in the driver's seat. He avoided the stare of Namjoon, deciding he didn’t want to see the deathly glare.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, cradling a throbbing pain on the side of your face after catching it on the separation between front and back. “Is someone here?”

Namjoon stayed silent for a moment, staring darkly into the outside. Taehyung didn’t know what to do except wait, ready to jump into action when Namjoon made a noise of surprise- or was it shock?- and slapped Taehyung’s hand with great panic, “Fucking pull up somewhere. Turn off those fucking lights. Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Jesus,” Taehyung cursed, doing exactly that as you leaned back to switch off the lights, submerging Kyungmin into darkness as the blood pooled in her mouth from earlier. She groaned something between her lips, holding her chin with her left hand as she picked herself up to lean over into the front, staring out at what Namjoon was watching across the small street. With the van now in darkness, away from the streetlight, you were invisible.

It wasn’t hard, locating the source of Namjoon’s panic.

Across the street, a flood of artificial white engulfed the street, barely missing the pull-in that Taehyung had moved into moments earlier. Namjoon slouched out of instinct, keeping his eyes on the road as he noticed three people dashing out into the darkness, the explosive lights following them as if they were automatic. They probably were, turning on as they stepped further and further away from the door they ran from. As they hurried past the hidden van, another noise pulled away your attention.

A large garage door screamed as it opened, in desperate need of oil, chains clattering against the metal interior. The light suddenly changed to an eerie green, something you saw in documentaries about weed farms. As it slid further up into the building, Namjoon hitched a breath as the sight of three sets of human legs came into view, dressed in stunning ebony, large guns by their hips. One of them smoked a cigarette, the smoke rising up like old Native smoke-signals. The middle guy pulled up his mask, covering his nose and lower face, and loaded the large Heckler Koch HK MG4 MG 43, aiming it swiftly at the little piggies running away from the slaughterhouse.

Taehyung knew that gun- the Heckler Koch never missed a target. He barely flinched when the gunman hit the kneepits of the runners, sending them to the ground instantly, their bodies buckling under the loss of legs. The screams were loud. Mama has the bacon, now.

The other two gunmen laughed loudly, approaching the pigs and picking them up to drag them back into the garage, a trail of blood marking the concrete like paint. He said something, the main gunner, and the two spares were taken away, possibly to die, maybe to a waiting room where they would await their death, as casually as they would waiting for a doctor’s appointment. The last runner, a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties, with already greying hair at the top, was pulled to the side of the room where three more men emerged, a woman amongst the pack with her hair sprawled out to her elbows, in mermaid curls. She was gorgeous, nobody could argue against that, with her body in a glamorous dress, something too glamorous for the apocalypse. On her feet, heels that presented her perfectly painted toes, a peachy shade.

“What’s happening?” Kyungmin asked. It was rhetoric. Everybody knew the answer.

The woman dressed in glam approached the slumped body of the runner, crouching to cup his face and stroke a thumb across the bags under his eyes, bleeding out with veins a bright red, the red of a freshly picked apple, the red line under a spelling error. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, putting her thumb over his lips and kissing her nail, before retreating and nodding curtly at the men around her. It was a signal, for they picked up the runner and began to tear off his clothes, leaving him stark naked, covered in purple bruises, tiny flowers on his skin.

Taehyung had seen things like this before- he was no stranger to the way the men beat the man with clubs and their boots, laughing at the way he retreated into his own skin, recoiling at every kick and screaming with every sickening club, until he accepted the fact that his body was their plaything. He watched, in morbid wonder, as they dragged him by his swollen balls to the center of the room, where a sharpened hook hanging from a chain off the ceiling swung threateningly, a bone being wagged in the face of a dog. The man whimpered, his eyes hurting, only barely making out his destination before his body shook violently.

The man picked him up as if he was a sack of sugar, with one hand around his neck, promptly planting him on the hook as if it were a throne. Now Taehyung had to close his eyes.

It was curling upwards, sharply, scraping every wall and nerve and good spot that ached. Yet, the men watched with wonder and satisfaction, clapping when he thrashed like a fish out of water. His legs were immobile, moving inches and with every movement came a grunt of pain, flashed with panic and agony from his rather pointy throne, and then the passing pain of his arm being cracked upwards.

The crack was loud.

From behind him, Taehyung heard Kyungmin make a small wheeze, hurrying into the back of the van, where Taehyung watched you pick her head up off the seats, your thumbs in a pool of vomit around her mouth. You didn’t even care about the sick on her knees, or the smell in your nose. Namjoon looked through the slot, dragging the divider up before the sound of retching made him sick, too.

You stopped listening to the retching, quietly shushing each whimper as Taehyung slowly started the van back up, grateful that he was covered by the sound of someone screaming in fucking agony. It felt so wrong, to be thankful of a tortured man. Cock and all, Taehyung was thankful he was screaming. The tyres of the van slowly rolled along the road, in the shadows, at a sluggish pace. Namjoon wiped away a line of sweat on his forehead, unable to look away from the man, thrashing like a pig, hanging like a sack of meat in a slaughterhouse, blood pooling now at the corner of his mouth, his eyes, his nose, dried blood at his ears.

It felt shit to feel thankful of someone’s screaming. Mostly, Taehyung was happy it was them and not him.

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (17)

A/N: WELCOME TO SHIP Y’ALL !!!!

WARNINGS: disassociation/descriptions of zoning out — i think that's it, but! as always, let me know!

Words: 4203

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing! i dont think i’m gonna be adding remus to the masterpost tags though because like. in full honesty? hes not actually a character. he’ll just be alluded to from time to time :^)

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil​​​ @forrestwyrm​​​ @daflangstlairde​​​ @marshmallow-the-panda​​​ @askthesnake​​​ @k9cat​​​ @patromlogil​​​ @theobsessor1​​​ @ninja-wizard101​​ @fandomsofrandom

general tag: @jemthebookworm​​​

enjoy !!! ilu !

“So it’s clearly a trap.”

They were all sitting in the other room, the Thief’s head resting on the Bard’s leg as he laid across the couch, Patton lounging in the Artist’s lap on the ground, Deceit on the coffee table. Logan was the only one sitting in a chair, reading over the invitation with his legs crossed on the seat.

It was finally time to broach the topic of a rescue mission and everyone was fairly apprehensive. Patton was starring at the ceiling, glasses sitting on the Artist’s head, who in turn was gently running his hand through Patton’s hair.

Deceit was flipping a coin around in his hand absentmindedly, watching Patton. He had been quieter as of late. If Logan had a headache, he hazarded a guess that Patton was similarly affected, even if he wasn’t disclosing those afflictions. 

“Definitely. Dragon knows we, uh, well,” the Thief’s eyes flicked over to the Artist, who shook his head. 

“We can’t let the Child get hurt,” the Bard said, “He was….well, not to be rude, the kiddo’s an idiot, but he’s the Prince’s favorite.”

There was a pause as Logan crunched the numbers. Child, Damsel, Dragon, Artist, Thief, Bard, Playwright — they were originally told that there were only seven Romans, right? 

It didn’t add up. He wasn’t going to voice THAT pun in front of Patton, though.

“The Prince? Is there another Roman? Or are you talking about the previous rendering of Roman as Prince Roman,” Logan handed the invitation to Deceit, who nodded and looked it over again. 

“I think he’s another figment, right?” the Bard looked down at the Thief with a raised eyebrow, “He was there on the first day?”

The Thief nodded. “He brought Child to me. Said he couldn’t take care of him, then he disappeared. Probably died, if we’re being honest.”

“Sounds like him. Flaking on responsibilities,” the Artist rolled his eyes.

Patton shifted, turning over so he could look at the Artist’s face. His hand reached up and patted his cheek.

Roman was so pretty. A pretty pretty prince. 

Wasn’t that the whole point, that he wasn’t a prince? Wait, why he wearing Patton’s glasses? Ah, goodness. He needed a Pat-nap, he couldn’t believe he forgot the Artist. 

He didn’t notice the Artist’s slight blush as he ran his hand through Patton’s hair again. “You’re okay, Patt,” he mumbled. 

Deceit raised an eyebrow at them, then looked back at Logan.

“I….don’t think that the Roman we are most familiar with would be so careless, though he has been heedless in the past,” Logan said, “We can hold discussions about the Prince for a different time, though. As for a plan, do any of you know what the castles interior looks like?”

“Why should we? We can figure it out once we’re there!” the Bard said. 

“No, we cannot,” Deceit shook his head in agreement with Logan. “If we are to create an infallible plan, we cannot be lackadaisical.”

The Bard laughed, wagging his finger at Logan. “I can assure you that I lack no daisies, thank you very much.” 

He snapped his fingers and a flower crown appeared on his head. The Thief made a face and Deceit sighed, both already exasperated. Logan, however, ignored his shenanigans and leaned forward to explain.

“Lackadaisical. We cannot be too,” he thought for a suitable synonym, “Laid back.”

The Bard blinked, then grinned in understanding. “Okay, Captain Cogitation, whatever you say.”

“I agree with Logan,” Deceit nodded to Logan, “If we want to pull this off, we’ve got to know everything.”

“Isn’t that your specialty, mister pants on fire,” the Artist asked, still running his hand through Patton’s hair. “You always seem to know more about everything than anyone else.”

Deceit turned to him, eyes quickly flicking to Patton before he raised an eyebrow at the Artist. The Artist stiffened. 

Slowly, he retracted his hand from Patton’s hair. It didn’t feel very welcome anymore.

“Sneaking and knowing are two of my talents, yes, but this is your world. I’ve never been inside that castle. I have to admit ignorance,” Deceit tilted his head to the side, toward the window, ignoring the Artist’s hurt expression, “You’ve been inside though, right?”

“The Prince has,” the Thief corrected, “I’ve been in and out in a few places. Know where Dragon’s hoard room is. I don’t think any of us actually know how to navigate it.”

The Bard not nodded in agreement, lips pursed in disappointment. Truth be told, he really wanted to see the inside of the castle. Interesting to note, in Logan’s mind, that they didn’t share the Prince’s source of knowledge.

“Surely if Roman has been inside the castle, then all of you would qualify as having been inside?”

“Well, yeah. But as the Prince. We,” the Thief pointed around at himself, then the Bard, then the Artist, “Don’t all have his memories in that detail.”

So the Prince had a different connection to Roman, the concept. That was Logan’s understanding. 

Then again, did Logan understand ANY of what was going on in here?

Now, now, don’t be too hasty. He rubbed his forehead, trying to ignore the increased throbbing in the back of his skull. Maybe the optimal strategy would have been to assume that anything goes in the Imagination, but you couldn’t fault him for trying to apply logic to the nonsensical. Perhaps there was some logic to it, with a rationale he didn’t anticipate.

All of the Romans bore some similarities and abilities to the original Prince Roman, but because the Prince was missing in action, dissolved, what have you, then those characteristics were divided amongst the remaining seven Romans. 

He had to understand the range of abilities. “Deceit, can you take notes?” Logan asked, and Deceit wordlessly conjured his notepad as Logan turned back to the Thief. “So, if you do not have exact likenesses to Roman, then what do you all have in common? We must understand the skillset we are working with.”

The three Roman parts all shared a look — apprehension, perhaps? — and the Thief broke off first. “A few of Roman’s strongest feelings and convictions, and some of his mannerisms,” he said, looking back at Logan, “That’s all that carries over to all seven.”

“And who decided that?”

“Who decided what we would take from Roman?” the Thief rubbed the back of his head and looked at the Artist, who shrugged, then the Bard, who….also shrugged. He sighed and continued speaking, though he didn’t exactly want to be the sole voice. “Well, us, I think? Or him. It kinda just happened when we were one.”

“The him that doesn’t exist?” Deceit raised an eyebrow at the Thief, who rolled his eyes and looked pointedly away. 

Yeah, he was done speaking. 

The tensions were heating up again. Patton sighed, scooting closer to the Artist’s chest and snuggling his head into his hoodie. It was soft. And it smelt like Roman.

Smelt like home. Patton closed his eyes. Had it really only been one day? He missed the common room so much, missed sitting on the couch and gluing photos and stickers into the scrap book he was working on. Missed listening to Roman rehearse lines and the flipping of Logan’s pages and the faint music wafting from Virgil’s headphones.

He was excited to see what Deceit’s routine would be when they got back. Maybe he’d want to join breakfasts?

Focus, Patton. He rubbed his face with the butt of his palm. Focusing was difficult, like trying to stand steady on a boat. Earlier, he’d been easy sailing, but right now it felt like they’d hit the currents.

“This is all confusing,” Patton mumbled.

He had to pull himself together! 

The Artist hummed sympathetically, hand reaching up and patting his hair, stopping short of running through. He tutted, then shook his head. “Look, usually there isn’t a rhyme or reason to what we do, we just…” he gestured vaguely into the air, “Do!”

There was a beat of silence as Logan, Deceit, and the Thief all squinted at him, for slightly differing reasons.

The Bard, however, just leaned in and said “A-scoodly-boo! Oop, maybe there is a rhyme?”

Logan and Deceit were surprised, watching the Bard. The Bard missed it, however, and winked at the Thief. Who smiled a tiny bit back. Even the Artist was smiling, clearly pleased.

Were they….was Roman that unaware?

No matter. Logan cleared his throat and the Thief opened an eye. “Can you please elaborate on the differences between each of you, then. There is a clear thematic or, rather, trope distinction between you all, but what are the Roman-esque traits that each of you individually have?”

That was a pretty clear place to start, Logan thought. He, Patton, and Deceit had been forming their own opinions and had their own hypothesis, but it’d be worthwhile to confirm their theories before jumping to conclusions. 

The Thief shifted, pushing himself up and out of the Bard’s lap. He sat upright and pulled his legs up to sit criss-cross. “In terms of what abilities we have, it’s been determined mostly by what we value. I….can fight. I can think calmly for the most part. I’m a lot of what Roman is when he’s alone,” the Thief waved his hand, then drummed his fingers against his thumb in thought, “I guess that’s why I’m so, uh….not-Roman?”

“Same with me,” the Artist said, raising his hand and tapping Patton’s back, signalling to him to sit up himself, “Bard and I, we create. Playwright, too. But because we all have different work ethics, different ideas on what should and-uh, on what to create, because of that we’re split. And our attitudes.”

Logan nodded. “Understandable.” 

Patton sat up and leaned against Logan’s knee. So they were talking about the different Romans. Alright. He was caught up, yeah! They were all different, different in their own ways, but they also clearly came together to be….Roman.

What ever they discussed here, because in truth he knew very little about what they were talking about, he knew they’d have to talk to the Damsel and the Dragon. Were they considering that? 

Deceit shut his notebook and looked up, remembrance written across his face. “That reminds me. Regarding your ability to create,” he pointed his pen at the Artist, “Are you aware of how….dense your creations have gotten?”

They were absolutely not considering that, apparently. Patton winced, turning toward the Artist. The tension returned as his expression flatted, becoming more guarded. The concept of creation seemed to be a touchy subject indeed, if the incident with the palette knife and threats were anything to go off of.

Behind him, Patton was gesturing to Deceit to cut out whatever line of questioning he was entering, waving his hands frantically. He had an icky feeling. The kind that was usually accompanied with nervousness, when he and Virgil would both be worried about something or another, but Virgil wasn’t here right now and this was more of the ball dropping into his stomach than the hair standing on the back of his neck.

It was awkward. That’s what it was, that’s the word. An incredibly awkward situation. Did Deceit know how the Artist was sensitive about his art? Oh, golly, they should have told him.

On the other side, Logan was simply watching Deceit with a raised eyebrow. Surely Deceit could have deduced that the Roman figment named ‘The Artist’ would be, well, unreceptive to critiques?

“Dense?” the Artist asked.

The Bard winced, and the Thief whistled lowly. “Don’t tread on me,” he murmured, looking up at Deceit. 

Deceit looked at him for only the briefest second, lip quirking up into a sly smile. 

He knew what he was doing. Logan had realized earlier and they had to make sure at least SOME of the Romans understood the toll that the Imagination was taking. 

“Dense, yes. Layered. Very well crafted,” his eyes trailed back up to the Artist, whose hand slowly unclenched from his pants fabric.

Ah. Yes, well. He preened a little, straightening his shoulders.

Ah, but this was Deceit. Who knew how honest he was being? The Artist froze, and then leaned down  over on one of his hands, gesturing for him to continue. He should see it out.

Deceit inhaled slowly. Logan glanced at him again, noting how he tensed so much. He couldn’t have been the only one physically affected by their circumstances. 

He reached a hand out and rested it on Deceit’s clenched fist, giving him a soft squeeze. 

Deceit’s eyes flew open. For a second, it seemed like he was going to combust, eyes flicking between Logan’s hand and face. 

Then, he exhaled, features relaxing. It was okay. It was okay!

No tricks. 

“Have you considered,” Deceit turned back to the Artist, who was still watching expectantly, “That the Imagination is too intricate for us?”

The Artist leaned back just an inch. He reached his hands up and ran them through his hair. “Care to explain?” 

Deceit nodded. The most obvious way he could explain it was thusly. “You all mentioned earlier that the passage of time was illogical earlier.”

And that was all he had to say. The Thief swore, smacking himself in the head. The Bard groaned, burying his face in his hands as he leaned forward. The Artist blanched, expression dropping as his eyes widened at Deceit. 

See? Explaining that wasn’t so hard. 

Deceit bit his lip and took off his hat, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. At this point, his words were burning the back of his throat like bile. 

No more tricks. He didn’t need to hide.

Patton reached over and rubbed Deceit’s knee. “Good job,” he said, a smile playing on his lips

“Ah, fuck,” the Thief turned to Logan, “You.”

The Bard pointed at Logan.

Logan slowly put his hands up. “This seems more accusatory than was intended.”

“No, no, no,” the Thief slapped the Bard’s hand and then pointed his own finger at Logan, “Are you okay? You must be tired. Fuck.”

“Wait, wait, that’d apply to ALL of you,” the Bard snapped in front of the Thief’s face and gestured to Patton, who was watching everything with a confused expression (why were they all so snappish with this?) , “Wow. We knew this would happen! We knew!”

“I’m a fucking moron,” the Artist snapped, taking off his glasses.

“Why?” Patton asked, now turning to him. 

The Artist clicked his tongue and waved his hand in front of the Bard’s face, cutting him off with his mouth open. “By being in the Imagination, especially for so long, you’re subconsciously affecting the world. We built everything in here without your input, so it’s illogical, without morals, without honest emotion or depth. It’s a bunch of drafts that’ve never interacted with another Side. You all being in here means you’re fixing it without knowing.”

Deceit smiled. Sweet, sweet victory.

“But I’ve been in the Imagination before,” Patton asked, brow furrowing, was that what Deceit was talking about earlier, “There wasn’t a problem then.”

“Yes,” all of them looked up at Logan, who took up the helm of explanation, “But that was because there was a unified Roman who could control what we experienced in the Imagination, correct?”

“Mhm, right on the money,” the Thief said, “The city you saw yesterday, Deceit? That sort of stuff would usually be hidden. That’s also why you’ve never seen this town, Padre, nor the characters.”

“It’s like subconscious editing, and you’re all trying to edit everything that’s ever been created,” the Bard covered his mouth, brows pinching in mortification, “Oh, goodness, my darling stars, are you sure you are alright?”

Deceit loved being right. He looked at Logan, who nodded. “A mild headache,” he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, “But beyond that, nothing.”

“Are you sure?” the Artist asked. 

He looked at Patton, who was swaying slightly beside him, eyes fixated on the wall directly ahead. That couldn’t be good.

Carefully, the Artist picked up his glasses and slid them onto his face, turned him towards himself. Patton blinked, stare now focusing in on the Artist’s tired but relieved smile. “You’re stretching yourself thin, Patt,” he murmured. 

Patton smiled back, forcing the excited and positively positive expression back out. He was so tired; it was difficult to understand what was happening, as always, but the Romans had verbalized it so well. He was feeling everything. Intensifying every feeling, and then extrapolating the moral repercussions onto every action that every character was making.

No wonder he had been so exhausted. The Artist ran a hand through his hair and Patton’s smile immediately fell again. He let his head lean into the Artist’s hand, eyes closed. 

On the other hand, the Bard stood up and took one stride to stand directly in front of Logan. He gently cupped Logan’s cheek, feeling his head with the back of his hand. “You don’t have a fever. There’s a lot in here — we have a superhero world, that’s been expanded upon after the cartoon episode, but we have a lot of medieval worlds and quite a few fantasy rules that simply don’t abide by laws. Not to mention—”

He continued talking about the worlds they’d made and checking on Logan’s well being, seemingly unaware of how the logical side was frozen stiff in his hands. 

Deceit thought it was hilarious. Logan seemed so flustered with the Bard rushing around him, smoothing out his tense shoulder muscles without any real understanding of why they were tense. 

At least, he thought it was hilarious until the Bard hurried over to him. He immediately took off Deceit’s hat and ran his hands through his hair, tilting his head up. “You, too, Loki, you’ve got to be tired from helping with our storylines. Here,” he moved to go around Deceit, also not noticing how bright red he was, but the Thief finally stopped him.

“Look, let’s….let’s be up front,” the Thief clapped, drawing attention wearily back to himself, “We told Deceit this, but we need to tell the two of you as well.”

“....Wait, what did you say?” the Artist asked.

The Bard grinned at him, then looked down at Patton. Of course! They had to tell everyone. They wanted to share this!

“I love you.”

Patton blinked, then grinned. 

Warmth.

Butterflies. 

The Artist opened his mouth, but only a choked “oh” escaped. The Bard didn’t wait for his approval, though, turning to Logan as well and saying, “And I love you, too! And I love Deceit! And I love Virgil! I love all of you! So, so much!”

Logan nodded slowly. 

That was

Quite a bit to process. He only just accepted that he loved Patton last night, please give Logan up to 5 business days to acknowledge his emotions. He nodded curtly, though his bright red visage betrayed how flustered he was. 

It was Deceit’s turn to hold his hand. Not too much, but just enough of a firm grip to let Logan know that they were okay. That it was okay.

The Bard didn’t seem to mind the lack of immediate validation, as he continued to bounce in place, positively buzzing with happiness. With LOVE! With ROMANCE! 

He was so GOSH DARN ENDEARING. Patton looked back at the Artist, who was still a blushed statue. 

Patton loved them, too. He loved them!

“I love you, too,” he said, turning to look at the Bard, a honest smile splitting his face.

The Bard’s hands shot up as he patted his own face. “Patton! I love you, too, too!”

“I love you, too, too, too!” Patton laughed, reaching up a hand.

The Bard took his hand and pulled him up in one fluid spin, and they hugged, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. 

This made sense, to the other two Romans. Leave it to the Bard to be able to channel Roman’s romance; he housed most of it, after all. 

They watched the Bard and Patton laugh and sway, chirping about love together. 

And then Patton leaned forward and kissed him. 

Roman froze. 

Slowly, he reached a hand up and ran it through Patton’s hair, cupping his head and pulling him closer. 

I love you, my dearheart.

The Thief and the Artist were frozen, from what Logan and Deceit could see, and it even looked like the Bard was frozen. Their forms shimmered of the deepest red and the brightest gold, for a moment.

DONTTOUCHMEDONT

The Bard pulled back. 

The Artist fell backwards, then scrambled up to his feet. He looked around at the Thief, who was sitting on the couch, eyes wide at the ceiling, then at Logan and Deceit, who were watching him with expressions of intrigue and horror. 

“I’m — I — Kitchen,” the Artist bolted out immediately.

Logan watched the Bard untangle himself from Patton, only to immediately lean forward and hug him again. That was certainly a surprise to witness. It served as more evidence that the figments of Roman were less tangible as Sides than any of them were, made from the Imagination rather than as new Sides. 

His thought process couldn’t ignore the tight fear that he’d felt when all of them disappeared, however. It was….that was terror. This was what terror felt like.

“I guess his theory was right.”

Deceit was watching the Thief, still frozen, with a frown. Logan wasn’t sure what he was referring to, as they hadn’t theorized that thus far. “Whose?” 

Deceit nodded to the Bard, whose hands were tenderly wrapped around Patton’s waist, kiss broken and face buried into his chest. “True love’s kiss. The Bard thought that that may be the answer to bringing Roman back.”

Ah, of course. Logan let out a suffering sigh. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but they had all been going so fast. It was already a large realization that he loved the others, compounded with their surprising and enthusiastic reciprocation. Plus, the notion of expecting such a romantic and fantastical gesture was certainly far enough up Roman’s figurative alley that he would include that as a failsafe.

Then, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Patton called, hands still gently drumming against the Bard’s back. He still felt giddy. Roman loved him, Logan loved him, Deceit loved him — he just needed to tell Virgil! 

The Playwright opened the door, a thick stack of papers in one hand, hair mussed and tousled, glasses slightly askew. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he fixed them carefully and let out one quick laugh. “That felt amazing,” he was breathlessly pleased.

“What did?”

“The kiss,” the Playwright said, a soft smile landing on his lips as he set the papers down beside Deceit on the table.

Deceit nodded and looked at the top one. It was a sketch, from multiple angles, of a suit and mask. Octopus?

The Artist peeked his head in through the open door and slowly shuffled in again. He looked at the Playwright, who slung an arm around his shoulders and hugged him tight quickly before letting go fast. 

“You felt it?” Logan asked, rubbing his chin in thought.

More fodder to the figurative Roman figment fire.

The Playwright grinned, but the Artist just let out a humored breath. Even he was feeling warm and fuzzy, despite the shock of being….touched. It felt weird still, and it felt weird for it to feel weird. “We’re all Roman, dearest, we all felt it,” the Artist exhaled, letting the nickname simmer. 

They slowly looked up at the Bard, nestled into Patton’s chest, who had the most serene expression. His hands were intertwined behind Patton’s back, swaying on his feet slowly as though dancing to music none of them could hear. Ecstatic.

The Thief finally relaxed, blinking up at the Playwright and the Artist. Best to….not acknowledge what had just happened. “Playwright? You brought some outfits?” he asked.

The Bard did not leave Patton’s hold, but for some reason, the hold was stabilizing Patton’s mentality enough that he turned to the Playwright with everyone else. 

The Playwright nodded, professional tension returning to his demeanor. He gestured to the stack of papers. “I’ve got some outfits,” some was an understatement, as the stack was almost as large as Logan’s 300 page Christmas gift. “If you aren’t opposed, I’ll conjure them up.”

A small bead of silence. 

They were going to reassemble Roman. It was going to work. And they were going to do it with love and determination. 

“....Thank you, Playwright,” said figment turned to the Artist, who was giving him a kind smile. “Thank you for your work. Always appreciated.

The Playwright blinked in confusion. “I…Thank you, Artist,” he slowly smiled back, feeling self-respect well in his chest. “That’s good to hear.”

He looked around to everyone else and pushed up his glasses. He could do this. He was Roman! He was. They were all Roman, and they were going to reassemble themselves. 

They could do this. The Playwright motioned for the first design. “Let’s get down to business.”

[dreamin-of-somewhere-else]

The Secret [2]

Part 1

I got numerous requests to write a part 2 for this (which made me really happy), specifically for some Dean angst, and who am I to turn that down?

Characters: Winchester Brothers x sister!reader

Words: 2900 (I may have gotten a bit carried away, oops.)

[Angst, A bit of blood, Guilt] - But nothing too bad, I wouldn’t say.

Tags: @daughters-and-winsisters, @evyiione

A/N: Also, I just finished this, which might be a bit rushed, so sorry about any misspellings that I failed to notice. I just really wanted to get this up right now!

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Dean always knew Sam had a more complex way of seeing the world of monsters and supernatural creatures. Himself, Dean had adopted John’s more black and white way of thinking. It was just easier that way, because although he admired Sam for that sometimes, he could get annoyed too. It was just harder doing what they do if you chose to let the shades of grey in.

But, this situation was different. Because now it was personal. It was family. And that was the reason for Dean not doing anything about it. He was angry at himself for it, but he didn’t know what to do.

The door to the bunker opened with a creak, and then a heavy slam echoed through the building as it closed. The noise brought Dean out of his thoughts, and he instantly got off his bed to greet Sam, who was the only person it could be.

Even though Dean really liked the bunker, it had some disadvantages. One of them was that he couldn’t keep track of Sam as well as he used to. He had noticed that Sam was gone, but never when he left. Let’s just say it was a big change from the motel rooms.

Dean and Sam had moved into the bunker only days after they parted with you. And even though they moved, traces of you were everywhere. Your old pair of worn and dirty converse stood parked by the door, still, even though you never took them off there. Other stuff of yours — like books, sketch blocks, clothes, your old mp3 player — it was all left in a room you’d never been in. You never left it there. Sam and Dean brought them. Even though it had been over a month — they couldn’t cut you out of their lives. Not permanently. Not yet.

”Hey,” Dean acknowledged Sam as the younger walked down the stairs to the main, living room.

”Hi.”

That was a little stiff, maybe.

”So, what were you doing?” The blond Winchester then questioned, wondering what his little brother had been up to.

”Just… Just in town, checking it out.” Sam shrugged, walking past Dean through the large hall.

Dean did not believe that.

”Oh, come on, Sam. Where were you, really?”

”Why do you need to know?” Sam called out in response, while Dean started following him through the building.

”Why do you need to keep things from me?” Dean retorted, not giving in. He could sense when Sam wasn’t telling the whole truth after over two decades, closer to three, with the kid.

Sam didn’t answer.

”Is this about—” Dean had a hunch, and he decided to venture asking. ”—her? It is about (Y/N), isn’t it?”

Sam groaned as he came to a stop. Dean watched his shoulders rise and then lower down again, until Sam spun around to face his older brother.

”Might be.”

Dean groaned too now. ”Sam, she lied to us.” He still felt unbelievably betrayed, the single thought about it physically pained him.

”Yeah, and I understand her.” Sam spat, rocking an expression that screamed ’I’m freakin’ tired with your shit.’ The tired, disbelieving little smile shared similarities with the ’bitch face’, but this look was far more serious. ”You need to cut her some slack. It’s not her fault she isn’t like us.”

”But she pretended like nothing was wrong for years. She could’ve just told us from the beginning!” Dean defended himself, eyes round and accusingly staring at Sam.

”Sure, but what’s done is done. She’s the one who’s out there, alone!” Sam argued, his arms spreading out wide as he spoke, frustration with the situation showing through his body language.

”Sam, she’s a kitsune. We’re supposed to hunt those.” Dean tried to justify his actions, even though he wasn’t entirely happy with the way he had handled the situation.

”How long will it take for you to realize? Yes, she’s not human. Yes, she’s a supernatural creature. But Dean, for god’s sake, get over it!”

Dean blinked.

”Dean, we are hunters. Hunters are taught to hunt supernatural things, right?” He didn’t give his brother time to answer, because Dean already knew. ”Well, that means others are going to hunt her down sooner or later.”

Dean was taken back. He surely hadn’t thought of that. He had considered you being a danger, but not in danger.

”I’ve been out trying to find her, okay?” Sam continued. ”And I suggest you make up your mind if you want to see her again, before someone finds her and kills her. Because you know very well that it can happen.”

The oldest struggled to process the new piece of knowledge as guilt started to wash over him, even more than before. He shook his head to himself, running his hands through his hair. For you to get slaughtered by hunters was not what he wanted.

”Dean, it’s still her.” Sam now spoke in a softer voice. Dean already understood. ”The girl we know, the girl who lived with us, the girl in your memories. Since she didn’t tell us for years and she’s been a kitsune all that time — it proves that it doesn’t matter. She’s still herself, the same as she’s always been — we just know more about her. And you know how bad it’s out there. If we can hunt kitsunes without a problem, so can others.”

A moment of silence passed.

”I’ve screwed things up haven’t I?” Dean then muttered, both to Sam and to himself. ”I’ve just made it much worse that it has to be.”

”I understand, I felt betrayed too. Who would have thought (Y/N) was a supernatural creature. (Y/N), of all people.” Sam let out a humorless laugh. ”But, the world is complicated. There’s shades of grey everywhere. I know you see things the way Dad taught you, I do too at times, but we need to believe in what we see, not what he said. Supernatural doesn’t equal bad.”

Dean nodded. ”We need to fix this, Sam. I mean, I don’t know if we ever can fix things between us… B-but, we should keep her safe, at least. You’re right, and I’m with you.”

Dean hurried after the silhouette in front of him. It was one month later, and Dean could have sworn it was you. He and Sam had searched, what it felt like, every inch, and then you just appear out of nowhere. Well, if it was you, Dean wasn’t completely sure. But, he wasn’t letting go until he was.

The young woman in front of him shot a look over her shoulder, and Dean quickly hid himself against the closest wall, invisible in the darkness of the alley.

Then, she looked forward again and hurried on, and Dean followed. He knew now. It was you, he could tell by the hair, the clothes, the silhouette and the facial structure all together. It was just scraps and pieces, he couldn’t see well through the darkness of the alley. But, it was enough.

So, he picked up the tempo, to catch you before you exited the alley, disappearing around the corner, possibly gone forever. This might be Dean’s only shot and he wasn’t going to mess it up. Not like he messed it up the last time you saw each other.

Dean’s steps got louder, heavier, and you noticed it. You walked faster. Dean was running. You weren’t — you were too tired. Dean caught up with you, and placed his hand on your shoulder and spun you around.

He was in for a rollercoaster of emotions.

First he was felt indescribable relief. It was actually you, his hand was on your shoulder. At last, after days where Dean didn’t even think of anything else than that he might never see you again.

The next emotion was uneasiness, once he saw your eyes that stared back at him, open wide. They were still the same, beautiful color, but the pupils were different. They were outstretched, like a cat’s — or a fox’s. A lump formed in Dean’s stomach and it took everything he had not to flinch.

The uneasiness intensified and transformed into worry once he saw your hands. They were covered in dark crimson. Drying blood — everywhere. Dean found himself wishing badly that you hadn’t hurt anyone. Although it didn’t seem like you, Dean didn’t know for sure, this was new territory for him.

But the worry transformed into fear, after he intuitionally lifted your jacket — to reveal a huge bloodstain on your shirt. He immediately grabbed your upper arms with both hands, as if he was scared you would collapse any moment.

”(Y/N)?” He asked, voice trembling and his eyes pooling with concern. His eyes wandered off the bloodied shirt, and came to a stop by the gaping whole in the fabric over your chest. Underneath a nasty wound showed itself, digging deep into your ribcage.  

”Dean?” Your voice was filled with disbelief. You were more focused on Dean being back than your own state.

”You bet.” Dean smiled just a little but it reached nowhere near his eyes. ”(Y/N), you’re hurt, I—”

”I-I know. It was a… close call.” You interrupted, panting. ”If it wasn’t for the fighting skills you taught me… I p-probably wouldn’t be standing here. So thanks for that.” Your voice wasn’t angry but it wasn’t happy either. It was lacking most traces of emotion.

”Can I do something—”

”No, it’ll heal… Just hurts right now.” You interrupted once again.

”Was… Was it hunters?” Dean was scared to ask. He hoped with all his heart that it wasn’t. That Sam wasn’t right about you being in constant, serious, danger.

”Three of them.” You spoke, looking at Dean with a blank expression.

Dean shook his head to himself, anger and guilt welling up inside. He felt a burning desire to find those sons of bitches and make them pay for this.

An awkward silence fell over you two, and you raised your eyebrows at how Dean still seemed unsure and uneasy. His glance was wobbly and hands slightly trembling.

”What?”

”Your eyes…” Dean murmured.

You instantly took your gaze away from him and stared down at the asphalt. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes, probably because the pain in your chest overtook everything.

”Why are you here?” You then asked. By the way he had acted the last time you saw each other, that night on the hunt, you had expected to never see him again.

He had told you that he killed those like you, and now, here he was wondering about the bloodstains on your shirt that those like him had caused.

”I’m so sorry.” He blurted out, his voice cracking. You lifted your gaze to look at him, and saw the pain radiating from his eyes. ”I’m so, so, sorry.”

Too surprised to speak, you remained quiet.

”I messed everything up.” Dean drew an unsteady breath. ”You’re our family. And it shouldn’t have taken me 2 months and Sam yelling at me to realize that.”

You nodded, lost for words, still.

”W-what you are… We can work around it. You’re still you. A-and I don’t want you out on your own, where hunters can get to you.”

You let out a weak, humorless laugh. ”Me neither.”

”I’m so sorry. I-I wish I could take it back, what I said.”

You nodded. It was quiet for a moment before you spoke up.

”You and Sam— You kinda… are my only family.” You fumbled with your words. ”Well — I don’t have any real family, but…”

”No, (Y/N), Sam and I are your real family. If you still want us to be.” Dean offered tentatively, although his eyes pleadingly screamed for you to please let them be your family.

You nodded. ”Yeah… I-I would like that.” The corners of your lips curled into a small smile.

”Thank you.”

”You don’t have to thank me.” You objected, slightly frowning.

”I do.” Dean assured you. ”This is all my fault, and I don’t deserve—”

”Hey, Dean!” You stopped him. ”Don’t guilt yourself to death, okay?”

Dean closed his mouth and nodded.

”I forgive you.”

”You do?” He asked in disbelief.

”I do. Now, where’s Sam?” You then questioned, changing the topic.

As on queue, Dean’s cellphone rang.

”Speaking of the devil.” He declared, with the trace of a smirk on his face. You felt a some of the weight on your shoulders lift when you saw it — it made Dean looked more like his usual self — something you didn’t even know you wanted to see. ”Hiya, Sammy.” Dean answered the phone.

You were quiet while Dean talked to Sam. You had good hearing, better than both of them knew, but you didn’t bother listening in on the conversation. Instead you just took in the moment.

It had gotten considerably darker since Dean found you, the last of the sunlight had settled below the horizon. It was pretty quiet, although you could hear a car somewhere in the distance. A couple talking as they walked down the street the alley you stood in eventually opened up to. You kept your eyes on the opening between the tall buildings as you waited for the two to walk into your view as you heard their voices growing louder. But instead — someone else stepped into the opening of the alley. Someone far better.

”Sam,” you whispered as your eyes met with his hazel ones. Meanwhile, he lowered the phone and hung up.

”(Y/N)!” He exclaimed as relief filled his eyes, although concern soon fought it off.

He started running towards you.

”Are you hurt?” Sam’s voice was stressed, trembling, as he stared at the blood.

”I’m going to be fine.” You smiled. You were so happy to see him — to see them both. The resentment you felt towards Dean when he showed up had melted off you. You were tired of being angry. Instead, you let the euphoria overtake you.

The relief returned to Sam’s eyes, and he became the representation of how you were feeling. He let out a laugh as he threw his arms around you, and clutched you tightly against his chest. You held in a groan as your wounds still hurt a bit, but you didn’t want him to let you go — not for the world.

Dean watched with admiration in his eyes. His brother and his sister, reunited. Two of the people Dean kept closest to his heart.

”I’m so sorry.” Sam spoke, and you felt his voice rumble through his chest. ”Oh god, I thought for sure someone had gotten to you…”

”Sam, it’s okay.” You reassured him. ”I forgive you, and even if someone tried — I can assure you that I’m not easy to kill. Promise.”

”Okay,” Sam nodded, and let out a deep breath. You felt his heartbeat slow down to a more normal, calm, rate. ”I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

Then he let you go, and you looked over at Dean, who was watching over you with round, soulful green eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself, before you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his upper body.

After hugging him for a moment, you stepped back. ”I’m sorry I lied for years.”

”We’re sorry for what we said and leaving you.” Sam countered.

”What about we just forget it?” Dean offered, and both you and Sam nodded. ”Let’s go home, instead.”

You rose your eyebrows, the way Dean said home got you curious, as if there was something you had missed.

”We have something to show you.” Dean explained, anticipation in his eyes, and you smiled.

What could it be?

Arriving at the bunker, you felt the excitement grow inside of you. An actual home. Dean and Sam watched your reaction with smiles on their faces.

Now, you would have walked around and explored the building — if you weren’t exhausted. It had been a long day — heck, months — and the run in with the hunters that came after you had taken a toll on you. Sure, you were a kitsune, more powerful than any human, but your body had used up most of its energy healing itself. And now, you were ready to turn in for the night.

Sam and Dean saw this, and understood. So, Dean looped his arm through yours and began leading you towards his room. You would soon get your own room, of course, the bunker had a lot of space, but for now his and Sam’s were the only ones with made beds, so for the night, it would have to do.

Entering the room, you immediately crashed down onto the bed, and Dean gently pulled the covers  over you. You flipped over to your stomach and instinctively pulled the blankets over you head, snuggling into the bedding, just like you always did.

Just as Dean thought you were out, you spoke up. ”I love you, Dean.”

Dean felt how your words tugged at his heartstrings. ”I love you too, (Y/N).”

He smiled and ran a hand over your hair.

You shifted a bit, and snuggled in further under the covers. ”Tell Sammy I love him too.” You added, mumbling. Then, you nodded off into sleep.

Of course Dean would tell Sam that, because just like Dean, Sam probably needed to hear it again.

And even though Dean still kind of felt like he didn’t deserve it, he was beyond happy to hear you say it; that you loved him. Because, he loved you too.

[thinking2050bytricia-blog]

Interview with Surgeon Notes

These are my raw notes with Beatriz Leong, a resident surgeon.

Beatriz Leong (33)

General Surgery Resident at USC Alina 18 months Dailin 12 years

What do you think about the concept of an Artificial Womb?

“ I don’t think it’s going to take off” Pregnancy is a very unique process It’s made that you build this bond with the child. -> There’s going to be bonding issues with that.” I don’t recommend it.

It’s not going to be accessible, it’s too expensive. Not going to be a future. Perhaps for a high-risk pregnancy.

I can imagine that people would still use it. Like in concierge medicine. Family doctors are expensive. They’ll do everything for the patient. The ethics are more blurred. Not accessible to everyone.

What do you think about universal healthcare?

The way things are going, I doubt it. Heathcare-> a lot of countries believe its a human right make it univerally available but in this country, capitalism makes it difficult. Implementing universal healthcare private insurance companies individidualism-> people want unique & special -> one of the things that will continue people are living longer and developing new diseases Like what?

“Everything will be patient centered” The pharmacies will be closer. Everything should communicate together, hard changing in many levels training, uncomfortable-> Electronic health records, having to work, electronic is harder?

Electronic documentation takes more time. Electronic healthcare some systems fo well. Most don’t implement changes Noew computers can access indefinitely, so there’s more litigation. Patients feel convenience at fingertips, physicians in the future will have more of this.

50 years more accountable for everything * patient its a simpler process, family physian, patients want more specialists. That makes the cycle worse

New Diseases -> Advanced types of cancers -> Incidental things, clinically involved -> Go to the ER, want CT Scan ->PAtients request imaging -> Find abnormalities small tumors for example

**People are now more worried about small things in their bodies that would not **Problem: too much scanning and exposure to radiation (how would we fix that?)

Do you think that robots will be able to diagnose and doctors will not have to do it? Web MD. For quick diagnosis “I don’t think there is a percentage of error. I don’t think a machine or robot will be able to diagnose with absolute certainty and take that judgement.”

** Doctors will still be needed to help discuss the options with the patient, as it is an emotional encounter.

What is the emotional connection? Is it much better if a doctor gives the message? The doctor can read them and empathize with them. What would you do if this was your mother?

I do think medicine will become more accessible, diagnosis, treatment options Patients will live longer “Certain element of comfort to have someone go through it with you”

What happens in a really good connection? Most of meds truly want to help people its really difficult to have the discussion with people

**The goal of a doctor is to help people (Intrinsic purpose) innate drive People would see someone that they are comfortable with, and will drive far to go to them. Seeing a doctor has value over typing symptoms.

What kinds of diseases will exist in an aging population? Atherosclerotic disease (From fats) Lifestyle diseases Dementia Parkinsons Toxins Air quality

Defibrillators connect to your phone and surgeon etc, we can talk and communicate easily.

What changes in healthcare for the elderly? Education does not equal training physicians for the future large deficit of physicians in the beginning more sub speciality services not enough experiences Ends up affecting the poor and uneducated Personal health care heart failure services pacemaker

Longevity healthcare Age is a pretty strong factor, hearts are older ** its important for patients to be dedicated to their health and be self-driven needs to start early *habits are difficult to break

Nanotechnology what do you know about it?

I worked on nanodelivery mechanisms. We are a long way from it We have magnetic beads with specific surface peptides. Certainly will happen

Pregnancy

Big Pharma “Med start ups are bough out by a bigger company.” Startups will be bought by doctores small companies dont have resources to run randomized clinical trials Clinical trials Realistically only the NIH Gov running slower development, not develop as quickly because only patients stand to gain for it. People dont have trials Big pharma is capitalism things being overprices, we developed technology to be advanced ** its what motivates people to create more solutions, like with investors. If it is government run it is too slow.

What do you think of my vision of a UBI? Its quite a big socialist idea This country attacks communist socialist I don’t foresee it State level may work, people will pay more taxes, will provide them with basic People will pay more taxes, I already have to pay 30% of my income because of my tax bracket Provide them with basic salary do strongly believe we don’t take care of our elders and sustain our jobs.

What do you think about the universal income People inherently compete, get more money, vicious cycles Certain percentage of population top 1% will get it Its not sustainable

What do you think about the universal income? A person at UPS and me will make the same amount of money in 40 years

Whats a better solution? What is more feasible? Making jobs and education that are invaluable to society more afforable know plenty of jobs that never go away.  There are so many people that can become amazing Doctors, teachers, surgeons, debt is impossible Cuts out so many people. We still have a huge teaching deficit Make jobs like this (teaching jobs) more attractive more money less debt Recruit more at high schools.

How to get there Theres no guidance, nobody cares you have to do it yourself. degree and cannot use it. Education is not efficient. **People feel the pressure to 4 years of university There should be more vocational schools You should not have to rack up so much debt and then go to vocational school.

What do you think about designer babies? No professional exposure to designer babies Genetically modified child, selecting beauty characteristics, the number of times things go wrong is inevitable, long term health pregnancy is rare enough Health and convenience and safety. Highly unethical

amniocentesis **People will be able to tell what disease their baby will have many children are aborted in the first trimester. There are so many problems that can go wrong in the pregnancy. Healthy pregnancy is so rare that starting to modify a fetus is highly unethical.

Epigenetics *Nearby coding material DNA helix contracted, when its all together You don’t know how this will affect everything What if it does not work? Possible with everyone Physicians will say no Concierge medicine-> Money eventually will allow it

New sports * Be smart -> Genetically modified children will face bullying and be profiled with discrimination, It will put a target on the child *Its like being adopted People will discriminate against them **GMC will struggle with identity problems Women will have fetuses with birth defects. Incompatible with life. Women will be able to choose to abort a child.

What do you think about Artificial Wombs and Abortion?

I don’t know if it’s medically possible to separate the placenta fetus from a womb. The blood floor stops, Who is going to raise those kids? Taxpayers money. Homes I don’t know that not aborting the child will allow a child to have a better life because we cannot assume a child will be wanted and cared for. and I don’t know which one is better.

It’s worse hearing about an abused child.

It is the utilitarian approach? I don’t think that would work.

Aging populations should be comfortable and beauty. It’s not the way it is. More fragiles, feasible to be other. *****People want to feel young and free Everyone will complain things will start to not feel right

Mother Foetal Attachment: As an outsider, and as a Mother Medically largely emotional event to give birth. There is hormonal imbalance Need hormonal injections to simulate it. Massive rush of endorphines Mutilate the body. You’re okay with pain to bring life. emotions trigger memories unlike anything you experience man and women. Love makes you silling, and goofy Going through the pregnanncy Emotions trigger memories, unlike anything you experience. Man and women sense of doom.

Concept artificial womb situation 1.  some upsides: **A. Women in a male dominated field will be able to work while pregnant B. Certain Value to not having to miss work

2. Medically cannot conceptualise how this would work **3. Problem: Cannot leave child alone at home 4. Could have a pod center. fetus is a parasite, womens hormones will be irregular **5. its like how a penguin brings their eggs around****

How will society react to it? 1. people will be nice, curious and interested 2. People will want babies, everyone loves them 3. Its like having a surrogate 4. everyone has a right to have a baby

Aging 1. should be beautiful 2. everyone aging is fragile, wrinkles, shrinks, feasible to be mobile longer.

In Urban homes * people have less kids, 2 doctors no kids. * population is aging because less epople have kids, elderly will work longer, people are developed and not have kids

More older people will have to work or less people? **Keep skilled people in the workforce. Hope this means more jobs for younger people. 15 year difference, level of expecation for work. great depression -> Glad to have any job not the case anymore **raising people entitled to convenience will find that they are not as hardworking and just WANT to be rich and free.

9 months -> Breast feeding, drink milk and toddler different taste

Babies drink regular milk? Every 3-4 hours she would have a bottle. She would eat a little bit then have a bottle.

What was it like to take care of her as a newborn?

Not too bad, it was like a whirlwind. It’s a huge difference in responsibility. Everything you do revolves around the newborn. They don’t sleep well, they don’t eat well, they poo all the time.

Figure out how to get them to eat

How do you get them to eat? I breast fed both of them. They had to learn how to latch on. It’s hard to get them to lat on and release, and they can give you sores. They need to breast feed and get milk (design product to help babies latch onto their mother’s breast)

She was getting jaundice and belerubin. She was getting dehydrated and yellow. She had to get a hospital thing, she had to feed her and pump to get enough milk.

Once she latches on, it’s not a problem. You just have to limit how long they feed. It’s soothing and it makes them fall asleep.  People would supplement them with a pacifier and they would fall asleep like that. Once you get them on a good eating schedule you need to get them on a good sleeping schedule. Hopefully they take an hour nap and then you gotta clean them. With her, we would put her down not in our room and give her three hours to sleep and relax. She was never fussy and would fall asleep. When she was a couple months, she started to sleep 6 hours at 2 months, then 8 hours then all throughout the night. She could start sleeping at 3 months.

The dad’s cant do a lot, they can’t nurse, they can’t nurse them at night. Her husband would be awake during the day a lot and then at night she would be up. Eventually she started sleeping through the night.

The key is to sleep when they sleep. I can sleep anywhere. A lot of people can’t sleep anywhere. A lot of new moms struggle with being able to sleep right. You need to feed them so that they don’t get dehydrated.

It takes them 45 minutes to drink 2 oz,

15 mins changing them

30 mins get them to sleep

30 mins and do it all over again.

You got to figure out your routine. I would give her a bath, change her, wrap her, swaddle, put her in the crib and she fell asleep. She was so happy it worked.  It was totally by accident but she was able to get the baby to go to sleep in the crib. ** you can teach baby sleeping habits.

Dailin was different. She would only sleep if you rocked her to bed, and she would sleep on her husband’s chest.

You seem to deal with that unending cycle pretty well huh? The baby is so good.

What about when you were pregnant with her? What was the first trimester like?

We had a hard time to get pregnant.

The first one was easy but it was hard to have more babies.

She started medical school, and she could not have a baby at that time, so she went on birth control.

The next moment, she was able to have a child.

She wanted to have it with good timing, so that with work it would all go well together.  

1st trimester “I was always nauseated. I was always throwing up.” In the OR she would go out, throw up then come back. “I was always tired” She only wants to sleep all the time. She just wants to go back to sleep. For like the longest time, I stopped six months before getting pregnant. I wanted to be healthy, I wasn’t drinking coffee or medications. Being a surgery resident and not drinking coffee its’s difficult.

* *its hard you cannot take medication when pregnant.

By the time that you’re nine months you are so big and 30 pounds overweight, most people gain a lot more

2nd trimester is a nice medium period You can’t lay on your back. IV & back pressure sore and heavy. Bodies hormones get used to hormone levels. Not so big that your physically limited

3rd trimester is anxiety provoking. Winding down? There’s all these anticipatory emotions. When you are over that midway point there’s all this counting down. Holy shit am I ready. It’s been 12 years since we did this what are we going to do. It is definitely exciting.

I was not dialating. When the babies get 41 weeks, they grow a pound a week

The placenta starts to peel away on its own, there’s a lot of risk to the baby,

Baby has blankets she carrys around. Baby has her own language, basic more all done say thank you. Eat and drink, eating a lot, picky dimsum, eat everything.

Car seats: They hate it. Some kids like it, some kids hate car seats and not being free 1. removeable car seats are easier 2. Toddler seat has to stay in the car. Struggles, difficult ot get out. Likes going in the cave and playing *3. Fancy carseats don’t work, they need to be baby proof because babies will pop in it, throw up, throw chocolate, everything. 4. one arm is in and the other is out 5. she likes going in the car to play with buttons but she doesnt like sitting in the carseat

Stroller: She will not get into a stroller.  a good stroller would be a jogging stroller.

What was it like to not be able to conceive? I try to stay fairly positive & See the good. Not let it affect my work Supportive

What’s it like to have kids as a surgeon and working? Residents usually don’t have kids because they are too busy. before that nobody had kids, most of the nurses didnt have kids. ** The hardest thing was not being able to be home when having a bad day, **Not being able to relax, hard to be away from them * miss out and gone a lot. a lot of guilt is associated with that. WOuldnt be happy without being a surgeon and having kids Nobody teaches you to be a parent. -> Definitely a lot of pressure and judgement **Children need a mom figure in their lives.  both parents work and still work

Premies twins premature, babies not ideal babies survive as early What do they need 1. Breathing tubes that are tiny (half size of pen) 2. IV Access. cannullas in the heart and the big vein. Draw the blood out of the vein and into the heart.

3. In the umbillical artery (Hebrin to prevent it 4. Put a catherer in their blood to take care of them 5. Their skin is not mature enough as a barrier 6. Warmer -> Incubators 7. Babies don’t go home until they are a stational age. 8.dialysis the blood. 9. Babies are fed formula or try to get the mothers to pump their milk 10. PFO - open corrin Require many surgeries esophagus to fix that feeding tube (Suckle on a niple for 3 weeks.

There are so many problems that can go wrong with birth defects. I don’t know how this machine would work. I have no idea how I would have had a normal pregnancy

“you don’t think of all the negative aspects.”

What is that? Freezing eggs Ovulate, 2 or a handful of eggs menopause chanves of reg is less ->U have all the eggs in your system ->Chances of having eggs are less Invitro doesnt always work

New industry**** * Service to have frozen eggs, service to harvest eggs, service for storing eggs, service for getting the eggs back. Very expensive *People desire to have children. ** Strong desire.

I dont get desensitized. patients affect her quite a bit