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dalek-ix-writes-stuff · 1 month ago

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Red Ruin - INTERVAL 02: FIRST ENCOUNTER (Part VI)

The Nevermore's scream brought joy to Ruby's heart.

The reaper ran towards the pillars, her soul singing as things began to click into place. She had to swallow the laugh that threatened to burst out of her throat, but no amount of self-control could hide the grin that cut across her face from ear to ear.

They deserve to die. They ALL deserve to die.

She pulled ahead, terribly aware that it was Yang who was literally riding the Nevermore for her. Some part of her wanted to scream at Blake and Weiss to be faster, but she clamped down on those impulses; the plan, she reminded herself, depended on timing, not speed.

"Come on!"

… That didn't mean a little encouragement wouldn't hurt.

----------

Ruby, Blake realized, was fast, even without her semblance, and even with the weight of her monstrously oversized weapon weighing her down.

How much does that thing weigh? How can she move this fast with it?

She didn't look as strong as her sister did, but-

… she can hear everything I'm thinking, can she?

Blake shook herself. Focus. Move.

She heard Weiss call out. "Casting haste!"

Blake almost asked what her partner had meant, but then the ground underneath her next step glowed, and time

slowed

down, and she understood what Weiss had meant.

Sounds became distorted. The world seemed strange and dreamlike, and Blake felt as if she were running through syrup and she found, to her surprise, that she was catching up to Ruby.

(The predatory, almost wolfish smile she glanced on Ruby Rose's face made her shudder.)

She scrambled up the stone pillar. The Haste Glyph wore off halfway up, but Blake's semblance brought her up the rest of the way with a single moment of discontinuity. Her fingers dug into cracks in the rock, and she hurled Gambol at the pillar on the opposite side of the stone bridge, propelling it forwards with a burst from the gun component.

----------

The wind screamed. Her heart was beating like a drum. Her body burned, aura flaring around her and tongues of flame licking at her wild mane.

Kr-shnk.

"Still hungry?! How about a knuckle sandwich!!"

Boom.

In other words: Yang was having the time of her life.

Kr-shnk.

Boom.

Yang was also possibly in the most danger she'd ever been in in her entire life, barring a couple prominent incidents she was not going to think about.

When people talk about "Riding the Nevermore", they're not usually being literal.

Despite never taking any lessons in Nevermore Wrangling –not that any existed, she suspected–, in Yang's humble opinion she was doing pretty well for herself. She'd managed to hold on to the bony mask in spite of the monster doing its best to shake her off, and she'd also discovered that she could kinda force it to go in one direction or another by punching and kicking it in its face.

Bumblebee this guy ain't.

pulse

in the back of her head told her Ruby was ready, and her grin turned feral.

Well, time to ditch this ride! Your turn, Ruby!

Grabbing hold of the Nevermore's mask's bony horn with both hands, she pushed off with her feet, and then kicked the monster's uppermost eyes, making it screech with pain and go into a dive.

----------

Weiss knew that, had she presented this plan to any of her tutors, Father would've called her to his office before the day was out. Even beyond that… it had far too many moving parts, too much risk; it relied on Yang not being thrown off and crashing the Nevermore into a cliff, on the ribbon that unspooled from Blake's weapon being long enough and not snapping under the stress, on Ruby –that strange, strange girl who had done

something

in the forest (why couldn't she remember?) timing everything right…

(Weiss refused to entertain the thought that she wouldn't play her part in this correctly. Failure on her part was not an option.)

And yet…

The gun-sickle spun through the air, black ribbon trailing behind. For one brief second, Weiss was afraid that it would fall short, but then the gun part fired a burst at just the right moment to send it across, and then around the pillar on the far side, wrapping the ribbon around it several times over before embedding itself into the stone. Blake pulled the ribbon taut, and then spun herself around the pillar she'd climbed, anchoring the slingshot on her end.

The Giant Nevermore which had given them so much grief crashed into the cliffs in front of them, Yang jumping away with only a moment to spare, carried by blazing buckshot from her gauntlets.

Not a moment later, Ruby swung her scythe behind herself, blade down, and leapt at the same time as the –to Weiss's eye– monstrously oversized not-a-rifle component fired, propelling the odd girl up into the air. She sailed under the ribbon and the scythe's hook caught on it. The slingshot stretched one way, and then came back, Ruby flipping herself and her scythe around it and then firing it to propel herself further back.

Myrtenaster's cylinder spun.

Left foot forwards, right back, swing up and squeeze…!

A gravity glyph burst into being right underneath Ruby's feet. Her cloaked dropped as if it were made of lead, and Ruby's knees briefly buckled under her own weight before her aura flared and she stood back up, scythe held tight in both hands.

Forwards, swing down, up and squeeze…!

Myrtenaster fired again, creating an array of haste glyphs in front of Ruby. Again, and ice pinned the Nevermore's tail as it tried to lift up again.

And then Weiss was standing at Ruby's side.

When she first met her, Weiss had gotten the impression of someone… excitable, but awkward and painfully shy. When they'd met again, she'd learned more. Ruby had a sister. Ruby had a hatred for the Creatures of Grimm so absolute it verged on the fanatical.

Ruby had a condition.

Now, Weiss got to learn more about Ruby Rose. The grin on red-cloaked girl's face was wolfish enough to give Weiss pause and send a trail of ice water down her spine, but her eyes… Ruby's eyes had a light to them that Weiss hadn't seen on the girl before.

Those silver eyes looked at her. "Think you can make the shot?" Ruby asked, almost playfully.

Weiss almost rolled her eyes on impulse. "Can I?" she scoffed, "Of course I can."

Foot forwards, breathe in…

----------

Crescent Rose's bolt cycled.

Myrtenaster's cylinder clicked into place.

Gambol Shroud's ribbon strained, it's owner's Aura holding it together.

Ember and Celica roared, buckshot making the Nevermore flinch as the pellets skid across its mask.

----------

Myrtenaster's blade weaved a pattern into the air.

The gravity glyph inverted, and Ruby flew. Crescent Rose sung in her hands as she passed through the haste glyphs, muzzle break shifting to direct her forwards even as she swung it back and rotated the blade to be almost in line with the barrel. Her semblance flickered, and Ruby flew even faster. Faster!

The Nevermore had broken free. It was trying to fly, trying to get away, trying to escape.

Red flickered around Ruby Rose.

It would not. There was no escape. There was only death.

Ruby flew. A comet of steel, fire, flesh and hate that tore across the air, curving up towards her prey.

OH, WHAT A BIG SCYTHE I HAVE!

Crescent Rose's blade sank into the Grimm's flesh

ALL THE BETTER TO CUT YOU WITH!

and this time, Ruby's pride and joy cut through.

It was generally accepted that the Creatures of Grimm were incapable of feeling fear. Ruby had discovered (or, maybe, she'd always known) otherwise; they could feel fear. You just had to force them to.

And as red-wreathed Ruby Rose propelled herself up the Nevermore's body, and as Crescent Rose kept cutting and cutting, splitting the beast in two from tail to head, she made sure that the Nevermore felt nothing else, right up until the moment Crescent Rose cut through the last if its flesh, and it finally, finally died, its bisected body falling down, trailing black smoke as it began to vanish.

Ruby fell, flipping onto the edge of the cliff, landing with a crouch with Crescent Rose laid across her shoulders.

She stood back up and turned to face everyone else with a little wobble to her knees, and for the first time in a long, long while, it was quiet inside her mind.

It hurt to smile this much. Ruby didn't mind; this pain, she'd be happy to take. She took the deepest breath her burning lungs could take and let out a cheer loud enough to echo.

----------

"Wow…"

Cree- er, Ruby Rose was screaming as if she'd scored the last goal in the tournament. Jaune couldn't blame her –she'd cut that giant monster in two!– but frankly he was too exhausted to celebrate his own victory, let alone someone else's.

(Naturally, Nora still had plenty of energy for that. Hence why she was spinning an almost-comatose Ren around and around.)

"That was pretty impressive," Pyrrha agreed, sitting next to where Jaune had chosen to lay down, left knee bent up so she could rest her arms on it. "Same goes for you, Jaune." The smile on her face was faint. "Thank you."

Jaune almost choked. "M-me!?" he spluttered, "I should be thanking you! And Ren! And Nora! I just-"

"-kept all four of us alive until the others came," Pyrrha gently corrected him, "by realizing we could take advantage of the ruins to keep the Grimm from working together."

"… It didn't work," Jaune mumbled, remembering the sheer panic at the end.

Pyrrha shrugged. "It worked long enough, and that's what matters," she told him. "And then you got the Deathstalker to sting itself."

"Nora had to hammer that stinger in for that to work," Jaune shot back, although without much heat.

"Which she couldn't've done without everyone else keeping it in place," Pyrrha added. "It might not have been as showy as… well." She gestured at the other four –Ruby had gotten down from the cliff and was in danger of being hugged to death by the blonde whose name Jaune hadn't learned yet–, "But a victory is a victory. Besides…"

She glanced away. "… this was hardly my best performance."

Jaune stared. What.

"… What?"

Pyrrha looked genuinely embarrassed. "Fighting Grimm isn't my… strongest point. I'm more used to fighting… well, humans." A blink. "And faunus, I guess…? Comes with being a tournament fighter."

Jaune stared some more. That was… er…

Green eyes looked at him in concern. "… Jaune?"

He raised one hand. "Sorry, I'm… trying to process that this isn't your best," he said. "Also there's parts of me that are sore that I didn't know could get sore."

"Ah…"

A slightly awkward silence fell upon them. Jaune began to wonder how they'd be getting back to Beacon. And when they'd be getting back to Beacon.

I mean, we beat the big bad monsters! Shouldn't they have sent… something? A Bullhead?

… wait.

He sat up.

"We forgot to get the relics."

----------

Another year.

Another initiation.

Another group of students. Another generation of heroes.

… and another set of teams to make. After doing this for as long as he had, Ozpin had found himself becoming… fond of this part of the process. Seeing where the pieces laid at the end of the day: which partnerships formed, and what nature they had. Who showed promise, who rose, who… didn't, and would require more work be done.

Ozpin believed that it was possible to teach someone to be a hero; to find and nurture the best parts of the human soul and create Huntsmen who would put themselves on the line and hold back the darkness that preyed upon mankind. It was, perhaps-

He sighed.

… It was, perhaps, one of a few things in which Stachys Vera and he could agree on.

"Something wrong?"

Trust Glynda to read his mood like a book. "No, my mind merely went to… unpleasant places," he told his closest friend. "Ones unfortunately close to home; the Vale Defence Forces."

He glanced up from the scroll laying flat on his desk. Glynda was sat across from him. The mention of the VDF made her raise an eyebrow.

"Really?" she asked, curious, "What made you think of them?"

Ozpin leaned back in his seat. "The Academies were founded under the principle that it was possible to teach people to be heroes; be they the ones who came to it naturally… or those who needed some tutoring to get there. In a way, the VDF works under the same principle; to turn ordinary people into a sword and shield against the darkness. And yet…"

He trailed off, but Glynda knew him well enough to know what he meant. And even if she didn't… the friction between both of Vale's most prestigious institutions was common knowledge.

"And yet," Glynda repeated, setting down her own tablet-sized scroll for a moment. She frowned. "It wouldn't be nearly so bad if not for the glory-hog they've put in charge."

"If only things were so simple…"

Ozpin paused. Above, the gears dutifully continued to turn.

"I fear General Stachys Vera's motivations are far less selfish, but all the worse for it," he spoke, "The VDF was as much her grandfather's child as her own father was; it was Zeleno Vera who fought for its creation and moulded it into what it is now. And the VDF has not –and might never– forget what he did for them, especially considering the way he passed away. Were we in Mistral, there would be a shrine dedicated to him in every barracks room."

He paused again. "No, Stachys Vera does not seek glory for the sake of glory. She seeks to prove to her grandfather's living legacy that she's worthy of it."

Glynda scoffed. "That woman is hardly a worthy successor to Zeleno," she pointed out, "a man you trusted enough to bring into to your inner circle. Twice."

Ozpin felt a smile creep in. "Zeleno was hardly the soldier he became when I first met him," he told Glynda, making the woman blink. His expression grew somber. "I can only hope his granddaughter follows his footsteps."

He shook his head. "Anyways… before we lose ourselves in the past, what do you think of the teams, Glynda?"

Glynda's eyes went back to the scroll she'd been working on. "Team Cardinal are perfect for one another," she noted dryly, "for all the worst reasons. Juniper has potential if they work on their… weakness and take advantage of their strengths. Ruby…"

Glynda sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "On one hand, the sisters get along fine and are clearly used to working together, even if Ruby Rose is… herself. On the other, Weiss Schnee and a disguised Blake Belladona."

"A most interesting partnership if there ever was one," Ozpin quipped. More seriously, he added, "And one with the potential to cross bridges that sorely need to be crossed."

"And with just as much potential to crash and burn," Glynda shot back, "How long can Blake keep her identity hidden? What will happen if Weiss discovers who and what she is before they can build trust?"

"We can hardly out Miss Belladona –or Beatica, as she's chosen to be known– to her own teammates," Ozpin pointed out, "we'll intervene if things get too out of hand, and help where we can, but… ultimately, this is a problem they'll have to resolve themselves."

Glynda huffed. "Which brings me to the other problem… your choice of leaders."

Ah. Yes, Ozpin imagined that Glynda would have… questions about that.

Best to push forwards. "Go on."

Glynda crossed her arms. "Cardin Winchester."

"Successfully led his team through the Emerald Forest and recovered their relics." At Glynda's raised eyebrow, Ozpin added, "More through luck and stubbornness than skill, I'll admit, and his leadership style can certainly use some work. Dove Bronzewing might've been a better choice, but…" A sigh. "Unfortunately, Mister Winchester's main weakness is that he'll never follow a plan not his own."

Ozpin sat back, looking up at the moving clockwork. "It was a choice between making a weak but functional team that we can hopefully teach to be better, or a dysfunctional team that might end up stronger."

"We'll have to focus on breaking them out of their bad habits, then," Glynda grumbled. She seemed to accept Ozpin's reasoning, however, as she then moved on to the next leader.

"Jaune Arc. He of the suspicious grades."

Ozpin suppressed a wince at Glynda's tone, his eyes still watching the clockwork move overhead. "Ah. Yes. Him."

Glynda's glare bored into Ozpin's skull. "I hope you don't expect me to believe that his papers are legitimate."

"…No." His lips quirked up into a smile. "That being said, Mister Arc's hardly the first student of dubious origin we have; Miss Baetica is here under a false identity, and Miss Valkyrie's and Mister Ren's skills are, as far as I can tell, entirely self-taught and their examination certificates come from a Huntsman in Mistral I've been unable to contact."

"And even disregarding our current class…" The smile widened minutely, and he shrugged. "The Branwens came to us from outside the Kingdoms, and for all his faults, even you can't call Qrow a bad Huntsman."

"Unlike his sister," Glynda pointed out.

Ozpin nodded, "Indeed. My point, however, remains: despite the laws, despite procedures, despite my own attempts at formalizing and organizing the process… we must accept the fact that the heroes we seek –that the people meant to become Huntsmen and Huntresses– can come from anywhere; from official schools, from the untamed wilds, from the Tournament arena, or from the meanest street in their Kingdom."

"The paperwork," he told Glynda, waving his hand over his desk as if to swipe something off, "is, and always has been, more for the sake of formality. Initiation is the true test, and Mister Arc kept his team intact and alive, despite being surrounded, and despite his own inexperience."

Glynda frowned; clearly unhappy at how Ozpin's reasoning clashed with her own idea of how the Academy should work. Thankfully, she kept her opinions quiet… for now, at least.

"Ruby Rose."

Quiet fell over the room.

Ozpin closed his eyes, and a familiar weight settled on his soul.

"Ruby Rose," he said, his voice almost a whisper, "the girl with silver eyes."

"'Silver eyes'," Glynda repeated, "You mentioned that before, when you convinced me that she could skip two years ahead to be here." Her tone lowered. "I tried looking it up on the CCTSNet. I tried looking for it in our own archives. Gods, I looked it up in Port's collection."

Ozpin's voice would've barely reached her ears. "And what did you find?"

"Nothing." Glynda's frustration was audible; Ozpin imagined a pout on her face. "Nothing at all. Not one record, not one story, not one myth… not even a rumour. Nothing." She paused. Uncertainty entered her voice. "Why?"

The weight that had settled over Ozpin's soul came crashing down upon him with a vengeance. Memory came with it; a host of people cloaked in every colour of the rainbow, unbound by the borders of kingdoms. Wielding powers not born from the soul, but from their blood and their minds.

A power which could heal the most damaged mind, bring the most disparate bands together, guide caravans across even the most inhospitable of wastelands, and spark hope within the bleakest, blackest pit of despair. A power which could even forge the darkness within mankind's heart into a weapon.

A power which was also a curse.

A people, secretive and insular, who were all too easy to blame when things went wrong.

Ozpin remembered more. Smoke towering into the sky. Flames that almost seemed to hunger for flesh. Mobs brought to hysterical fury.

He remembered the screams.

He remembered a host of people, cloaked in every colour of the rainbow, fleeing from those who had once been their friends and their neighbours, never to meet again.

"Because all that there once was, was destroyed," he told Glynda. "Some of it by others… and some by me."

Guilt came, and he greeted it like the old friend it was.

After a moment, he opened his eyes once more.

"Miss Rose took charge of her team during Initiation, despite her youth," he began, the change of subject so abrupt he saw Glynda blink. "She was able to capitalize on their abilities to save Juniper, and then devised a plan that killed a Giant Nevermore." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Furthermore… Putting either Miss Schnee or Miss Baetica in charge would only cause the friction between them to escalate at this point –their enmity might've been buried, but it's still there."

A sigh. "And while Miss Xiao-Long certainly has the maturity to lead, I suspect that most of her focus is on her sister's well-being, and I've seen that path play out before. She might neglect the other half of her team. She might coddle or dote on her sister enough to stifle her growth." Ozpin shook his head. "Miss Rose isn't without faults –I fully expect her to struggle the most with her responsibility, to make the most mistakes, and to bemoan the burden of leadership hardest of them all–… but Miss Schnee and Miss Baetica will listen to what she has to say without thinking it's some barb against them, and Miss Xiao-Long can support her without there being any fear of preventing her growth –and Ruby Rose might have the greatest potential for growth amongst our students."

Growth which, Ozpin feared, young Ruby Rose would need.

Glynda's silence was pointed. After a few moments, Ozpin accepted that his most loyal friend wasn't going to let him off that easily.

"A few words of advice, when teaching Miss Rose," Opzin began, now turning to look at Glynda. His words were almost mournful. "Against Grimm, she'll be unmatched. During combat practice against her peers, she'll excel, or flounder, or more likely both, from one moment to the next. Crowds of people will overwhelm her." Another sigh, and this time Ozpin let the regret enter his voice. "I'm sorry Glynda, but as much as I wish I could tell you more… I'm afraid I cannot. Some secrets only become more dangerous when you learn of them at the wrong time, and the story of the Silver Eyed is one of them."

Unsaid was that there were also some practical reasons against telling Glynda more… And another, less practical, but still important reason to do so. Ozpin's true curse was that, sometimes, the only thing he could do was keep a promise to people long, long dead.

Glynda Goodwitch held his gaze for a moment. Then another.

Her eyes closed. "This is not the first time you've had me work in the dark," she noted, not quite an accusation, "And it won't be the last."

"Unfortunately." Ozpin agreed, regretfully.

"Now, where were we…?"

----------

Ruby huddled underneath her cloak.

She hated crowds. Hate. Hate hate hate. So much hate. It wouldn't've been nearly as bad with medication, but the greasy, gummy tablets that deadened her sensitivity and made her feel like her brain had been stuffed with cotton took a little longer to take effect than all the rest of her medication and… and they'd been tired after a whole day in the Emerald Forest. That there'd be a ceremony after coming back to Beacon had entirely skipped Yang's mind and hers.

She tugged the hood around her ears to quiet the whispers and pretended not to notice the abstract nightmare bathed in crimson around her; deformed homunculi that spoke of insecurity, chained wrath looking to escape, grinning mouths with far too many teeth.

Blood-stained shadows that seethed at the mass of humanity around them with barely concealed disdain.

Icy blades that sprouted needles that threatened to skewer all around her.

A huddled, trembling knight, paper armour covered in hollow fantasies and dreams, bound by lies that were already frayed.

A towering idol of bronze. Invincible. Untouchable. Unreachable. Yearning. Yearning. Yearning.

A quiet. A silence. A calm. A stillness, waiting for the right moment. A vengeance long, long overdue.

A loud, sparking, thunderous storm, roaring and laughing as loud as she can to drown out the screams.

Ruby shuddered. She squeezed her eyes shut; breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…

Ruby opened her eyes again, and the nightmare receded… in all places but one.

The man behind the curtain spoke.

Don'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook.

"Jaune Arc, Lie Ren, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie… The four of you retrieved the white rook pieces. From this day forwards, you will work together as… Team Juniper."

Applause. Nora whooped and embraced Lie.

"Led by… Jaune Arc!"

Jaune gawked and stammered. Pyrrha tried to give her partner an encouraging punch on the shoulder… and knocked him over.

"Sorry!" Pyrrha hissed, the smile on her face painful as she shuffled over to pull Jaune back onto his feet.

The man behind the curtain cleared his throat. "And finally…"

Don'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook.

The screen changed, and Ruby's heart began beating like a drum in her chest as she walked onto the stage with Yang, Weiss and Blake, pulling her cloak around her. Crimson flickered in and out of her vision, but the roaring fire of her sister was right beside her, and Ruby leaned into that presence, letting the flames lick at her. She was safe with Yang, always.

Yang had promised, Ruby trusted her, and that made it true.

"Blake Belladona, Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee and Yang Xiao-Long… The four of you retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forwards, you'll work together as… Team Ruby."

Ruby kept her gaze fixed forwards. The man behind the curtain was right there.

Don'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook!

"Led by… Ruby Rose."

The world stopped. Ruby was dimly aware of Yang pulling her in against her side. In her head, a single thought emerged.

Fuck me.

----------

The clock ticked, and Velvet Scarlatina smoothed her skirt, fussed over her blouse, and tried her best not to fidget in her seat.

It's just an internship, she told herself, for the third time in an hour.

She made the mistake of glancing up. The lobby was large, but also intensely plain and generic in a way that could only be a deliberate statement. White, beige and silver dominated everything from the walls to the ceiling, to the minimalist decor, to the benches built around the four pillars that held up the floors above. The only splashes of colour were posters advertising military hardware; a Bullhead soaring over downtown vale, automated turrets standing sentinel on a fortified wall, and another –the biggest of them all– showing a Raptor fighter flying across beautiful blue sky.

The three linked diamonds of the Armacham Technology Corporation dominated the wall to Velvet's left, their slogan emblazed just below, Working for the future.

Velvet swallowed.

An internship with the biggest company in Vale. God's horns…

"Miss Scarlatina?"

Velvet straightened. The secretary at the desk –a young and pretty woman whose green hair had been tied into a bun– gestured at another human. Also young, wearing clothes that he must've thought made him look approachable –a creamy blue polo and slacks– but made him look like a civilian college student. The ID card he wore on a lanyard said he was from the HR department.

Velvet was suddenly very glad that she'd stopped Coco from accompanying her.

He smiled, but the expression lacked any real warmth. "If you could follow me, I'll get you to your interview."

----------

The clock ticked relentlessly, and Velvet Scarlatina tried her best not to squirm in the plush wing chair.

She'd been led by the polite and pleasant, but professionally distant man into the headquarters of the Armacham technology corporation. Past offices, down corridors, and through an atrium that had a replica of a big… device hanging from the ceiling. An octagonal prism with what looked like square glass wings extending from opposite sides, and a parabolic antenna on one end.

"Hannibal One," the HR man had told her when he caught her staring at it, and her eyes widened in recognition of the name, "Or, well, a model. The real one's probably still floating out there."

He didn't mention that the device –the artificial satellite– had also completely failed after leaving atmosphere. He'd led her to another waiting room deeper in the facility and just as bland as the first, assured her that her interviewer would arrive soon, and just… left her there.

It's just an internship, Velvet reminded herself, staring at the carpet, And ATC is the biggest company in Vale.

"Miss?"

Velvet looked up to see who had spoken. She'd expected the HR guy again, or maybe the person who would be the doing the actual interview.

Instead, she found herself gazing up at the mirrored surface of a pair of aviator sunglasses, and the security guard who wore them. He wore a flat-topped cap, a blue shirt with rolled up sleeves and the ATC logo on the shoulder, a heavy ballistics vest over that with some extra bits of armour, black pants tucked into shin-length boots, and knee pads.

For a brief moment, a pit opened up in Velvet's stomach, while the corner of her mind she tried the hardest to ignore began to protest at the unfairness of it all; wasn't ATC supposed to be the nice corporate giant? Had they also brought her all the way in her just so they could-?

"I'm here to escort you further inside."

The moment passed. Velvet tried her best not to sag with relief.

"S-sure," she said, standing up and hating how her voice stammered. Why couldn't she be as confident as she was around her team?

It was only after she'd begun following the security guard that she wondered why she'd need an escort.

----------

The clock ticked forwards mercilessly, and Velvet Scarlatina tried her best not to disappear into the sofa.

She'd been led deeper and deeper still into Armacham HQ. First, she'd gone through a security checkpoint –a metal detector and then something which looked disturbingly like an armoured box meant to contain an explosion. The guards manning it had made a brief show of inspecting Anesidora before the one escorting her had rolled his eyes and told them to give it back to her.

"There's enough automated turrets past here to hold a battalion off," he'd explained, when he'd given him a questioning look. More quietly, he'd added, "Plus, the doc might want to give it a look. Every little bit helps."

After that, an elevator that went down for a lot longer than Velvet was comfortable. Then there was a long, winding corridor through what Velvet suspected was where the real work of ATC was done; mostly closed offices hosting quiet conversations she dared not listen too hard to, but she also heard the distant sounds of machine shops and firing ranges. The decor was still aggressively bland, but there was a change in the atmosphere that sent ice down her spine.

I-it's an internship, she'd told herself, an internship with the biggest weapons manufacturer in Remnant. God's Horns where am I even going!?

Past the corridor, another checkpoint. This one had several armed and armoured guards protecting it on top of a metal detector and another of those armoured bomb-proof boxes (which was when the guards cheerfully told her that they were meant to detonate any explosives she might have hidden on her through inductive current) and beyond that, a thick, vault-like door made of dull matte steel. Hydraulics hissed as it opened, and Velvet was led through, and down another elevator, headed even deeper underground.

And now, here she was, Gods knew how many feet underground, sitting at a waiting area while someone was being verbally torn apart within the office she was presumably going to enter next.

The first voice spoke with such seething disdain Velvet wondered how Grimm didn't spontaneously manifest. "You fucking toad."

The second voice simpered. "N-now now, Harlan-."

"Quiet. I'm going to use small words so that you can understand. Terry found that our monitoring equipment was getting pretty chatty strange times. Kept trying to connect to places it couldn't reach. Wasn't even hard to catch and put a stop to it. Then we traced them back to one computer, and one login. Oh, you wiped the logs, but you didn't get rid of the greasy fingerprints you left all over the place when you did."

The other voice was trembling. "P-Please, Doctor Wade, you're mistaken. After all, you know that monitoring systems are required at all ATC-."

"Don't you dare come to me with that bullshit. I know the regs –I wrote them you dumb fucking bastard– and they say that nothing that happens here is to ever, ever, see daylight. If and when this building ever shuts down, we're to seal every room below ground level in fucking concrete. Do you understand that, Norton, or do I need to get the crayons and hand puppets?"

A defensive tone entered the second voice. "… You have no proof. Nothing about what you said points to me. Are you sure you don't have a leak in your department?"

"I am. I'm talking to that lard-brained whale right now. And if you want proof…"

The first voice lowered to a growl.

"Ruby's coming this weekend. Want me to ask her to get proof? You know she'd be happy to."

The silence was deafening. Then, a snort fill with more derision than Velvet had ever experienced, which was… something.

"Thought so. Get out of my sight."

The door flew open, and the single fattest man, human or faunus, that Velvet had ever seen came stumbling out; flabby and disgusting, with red hair and too much chin under his mouth, wearing jeans and an incredibly loud shirt. He paused when seeing Velvet and seemed almost about to say something when the owner of the over voice roared from inside the office.

"Maple, why can I still see your obese ass outside my door!? Out. Of. My. Sight!"

Norton Maple scurried away a lot faster than Velvet would've expected for someone so corpulent. For a moment, she just sat there, uncertainty gnawing at her chest. What had just happened? Was she supposed to hear all that?

Her ears twitched. She heard a chair being wheeled back inside the office. Footsteps on worn carpet. Grumbling. A human man stepped into the doorway; old enough that his hair was snow white. A faded blue sweater –worn over a long-sleeved white shirt– and a pair of black slacks hung from his thin frame. A moustache emphasized the downwards curl of his lips, and his eyes hid behind thick-framed, square glasses that glinted in the cold blue light.

Velvet recognized him, to her shock; the Harlan Wade who'd smiled in her parents wedding photos was almost unrecognizable.

He stared at Velvet, as if expecting her to bolt as well. Her pointed behind himself.

"In," he ground out.

Velvet hurried into his office, brushing past the man as she did. It was a big office, with enough room to have a pair of armchairs and coffee table to one side. A large, square scroll with a black, square frame was propped up on his desk, screen blanked out, and the walls were lined with bookshelves, filing cabinets and lockers. A long, tan trench coat and a gun belt with a massive handgun in its holster hung from a coat hanger, placed just close enough to be reached without moving from behind the desk

Velvet sat herself on one of the two chairs in front of the desk. Something about the room struck her as odd.

Harlan Wade shut the door, and slowly walked behind the desk to take the high-backed office chair there. He moved slowly and took a moment to get himself comfortable, leaning back in the office chair with his elbows on the armrests, fingers clasped together. All the while, he stared at her with an utterly blank expression.

Velvet swallowed. She did her best to smile.

"H-hello, my name is Velvet Scarlatina," she managed to force out, "I-It's…" Terrifying. "… Good to see you, Doctor Wade."

Harlan said nothing. The clock ticked forwards implacably. Velvet tried not to squirm.

She'd practiced interviews with the rest of CFVY all night yesterday, and even the most uncomfortable scenarios her team had thrown at her had nothing on this.

"Do you know why you're here, Velvet?"

The question came after what felt like an eternity. It almost seemed to come from nowhere; Harlan's blank expression didn't change a millimetre when he made it.

"I'm here for an interview," Velvet answered, "With… you." Apparently? "I'm a student at Beacon, so I've been looking for something part-time to-."

"Stop."

Velvet bit her lip. She felt a brief flash of anger at the interruption before she buried it.

Harlan took his time to speak again. His eyes left her for the first time since she'd arrived, focusing on the open scroll. Reaching out with his right hand, he pressed his thumb on the edge, and the screen lit up again. Velvet couldn't see what he was doing –the screen was opaque– but he seemed to be browsing something. He moved slowly and deliberately.

"Velvet Scarlatina," he began, "You sent an application for part-time work to ATC's CCTSNet address two weeks ago. The mail server caught it, scanned it, took it apart, ignored everything it was programmed to ignore, and then built a file for processing. A sorting algorithm picked up your file, read 'internship', 'part-time', and 'faunus', and kicked it over to the Company Inclusivity Program's server. That server looked at the file, stored it, set a timer to delete it in about a month, and went back to doing…" He shrugged. "Whatever else it was doing."

Harlan Wade paused. His fingers tapped a few keys in the holographic keyboard.

"At no point did anyone read your application," he noted, "It would've stayed buried until the timer ran out, or the CIP manager was told that we need to score some moral brownie points. Maybe someone on the board got drunk and called you lot a pack of animals."

The words were delivered with all the casualness of someone discussing the weather. "She'd dig around the files for a while and come up with yours. Photogenic, she'd think. Your file gets passed on to HR. They call you and offer you a part time job doing almost nothing in one of the offices." He leaned back. "Fetching documents and coffee for puffed-up pencil pushers, who may or may not try their luck with the faunus intern, unlocked aura or not. Just enough to say you're employed, but never enough for you to move up; heaven forbid you get a chance to do anything actually important here. At most… maybe they'd pick you out to put your face on a poster about how fucking inclusive this place is."

Harlan stopped. The flash of anger from before had come back, and Velvet had to work to push it down.

What was that!? Why are you telling me this you…!

Velvet stopped that line of thought. Why was Harlan Wade telling her this?

Is this some… some sort of test, to see if I'll blow up? But that doesn't make any sense; he wasn't explicitly racist, at worst he implied that others would've been in that scenario he laid out, but why…?

Velvet's ears twitched. She was going about this the wrong way.

If what he said is true…

"Then why am I here, Doctor Wade?" she asked.

A flicker of what might've been grudging approval crossed Harlan's face. "Because I stole your application from the server, and decided you might…" A pause. "Be useful, for something I have in mind. First reason: You're a Huntress," he said, bluntly, "in training, sure, but…"

His lips twitched. "Four Huntsmen in the world have any experience with what we're dealing with. One's a dusty bird-brained drunkard who's too fucking busy to pick up his scroll, the second is dead, the third's already had enough bullshit thrown at him for two lifetimes, and the fourth…" Harlan growled. "If she ever shows her face, she is only leaving this building as a corpse." He straightened out. "And none of them can go where you'll be headed."

Velvet swallowed. That had been… Um. Illuminating…?

"Aren't you a Huntsman?" she then blurted out; maybe she was pushing her luck, but… what if Harlan wanted her to ask questions?

"I'm old, my aura's shit, and after not discovering my Semblance over the past fifty years, I can say it's because I won't," Harlan shot back. "And, again, I can't go where I need someone to go. Which brings me to the second reason… that you're a Huntress in training."

Another twitch from Velvet's ears. Huh…?

Harlan stared into her eyes. "Beacon had their initiation today, and one of their new students is…"

A strange look came across the man.

"… Of interest." His hands flew across the keyboard, and he turned his scroll around, showing the very first frame of video. A steel room, with a metal table in the middle. A figure cloaked in red sat in front of it, a hood covering their face.

Sat opposite, was a woman in a lab coat.

"It's simpler to just show you."

The video played.

----------

Velvet would be getting no sleep that night.

In the morning, she'd be headed to ATC HQ once more.

#red ruin #rwby #rwby fanfiction #f.e.a.r.#crossover au #crossover #fanfiction #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #jaune arc #professor ozpin #velvet scarlatina

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epicspheal · 2 years ago

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I'm finishing up my character analysis post on Hugh and while typing it up I began to wonder... For Pokemon Masters, should Hugh have been the one to help talk Paulo down from his path of darkness? Because the two of them have similarities in having a traumatic loss of a Pokemon as a child which influenced their desires to become stronger so something like that wouldn't happen again. They both have a fair bit of vengeance within and them and struggle a bit with forgiveness. I think Hugh definitely has words of wisdom for Paulo that could be really helpful. Not saying Blue doesn't it's just I think he would've been a better guide for Lear. Both Lear and Blue come prominent families and are stuck under the shadow of patriarch (the King for Lear and Professor Oak for Blue). Both are insanely talented despite at one point not having true bonds with their Pokemon and other people. They also really want to beat Red. I think Blue could've had more of an impact on Lear than Cheren because while Cheren was very hyperfocused on strength, he wasn't to the point where he was turning down friendship with his Pokemon or others like Blue was in gen 1. And likewise Hugh knows more about the pain of losing a Pokemon to greedy people unlike Blue as far as we know (Tbf Pokemas seems to be intent on giving this dude depression so if they want to add some more trauma for him I won't be surprised). And Hugh learned about forgiveness and how to channel that anger in a way that wouldn't lead him down more dangerous paths.

#pokemas #rival hugh #rival blue #rival cheren #lear pokemon #paulo pokemon

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savior-of-humanity · 1 year ago

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Thinking about details for a Las Plagas infected verse for Leon/Ashley..

(putting this under the cut because This Is Going To Get Fucking Long)

So, the verse itself ('glorias las plagas; infected verse') wouldn't be just for the Las Plagas parasite, as it'd also cover AUs involving the other viruses in the RE verse like the Golgotha/G-Virus, but for the sake of this post we're gonna be focusing solely on Las Plagas itself. But first I'm going to ramble about the parasite.

In the events of Resident Evil 4, both Leon and Ashley become infected at the hands of Los Illuminados. And their symptoms actually get pretty severe into the later part of the game, signalling the significant progression of their parasites.

Right up to when they finally manage to remove the parasites, I think they (or at least Leon, considering that he was infected first before Ashley) were literally on the verge of losing their humanity and succumbing to the parasite - mainly due to the severe hallucinations Leon's getting at this point as he quite literally shambles into the lab with Ashley in his arms. Relevant scene for context/visual example.

I don't really know how the Las Plagas parasite mutates its hosts, but I would imagine the mutations it creates aren't just physical extensions of the parasite's body but actual mutations to the host's body, with prominent examples being El Gigante, Del Lago, Colmillos, Jack Krauser, and Osmund Saddler. There's also the fact that human-animal hybrid monsters like Novistadors and Verdugo exist, which interestingly enough are human-insect hybrids controlled by Las Plagas. I'm not exactly sure what sort of DNA went into the creation of these two in particular but I would imagine there would've been some tampering with the DNA of the parasite.

Something to also note is that there are actually different strains of Las Plagas canonically; the "submissive" strain, which is the original/natural strain that most enemies in the game (such as the Ganados/villagers) are infected with, and the "dominant" strain, which seems to be an altered version of the parasite that allows the host to control those infected with the submissive strain. To my knowledge, Krauser, Saddler, and Salazar were infected with the dominant strain.

So, anyways, back to the actual verse itself.

Since we know that the parasite induces mutations into its host, the "default" version of the verse would mainly consist of the idea that, while Ashley + Leon are free from the parasite's influence, it still left something behind in their bodies due to the infection having progressed so far. Specifically, DNA 'packages' - full of genetic material that the parasite would have used to twist their bodies as it deemed fit.

Whether from outside influence or on their own, these DNA payloads would activate, releasing a huge surge of genetic material that would, of course, result in significant mutations. There's actually a lot of takes on what a Las Plagas-infected Leon would look like (which you can find pretty easily if you search for it on tumblr) so I want to try and be unique-ish in my own take on him (and Ashley).

Since there's no parasite trying to control them, they'd actually have control over how their mutations present themselves - but they aren't going to get the hang of it from day one. I imagine it's a gradual thing; the first few times they mutate, they're basically going to be manifesting the full potential of their genetic potential. Obviously, since it's not only extremely painful but also turning them into walking killing machines, it'd only really occur in a high-stress life-or-death situation. After that though, they get the hang of it over a long but gradual process, until eventually they can reach a point where they can just spontaneously mutate whatever they want (granted that they are able to mutate it in the first place), whenever they want.

As for what these mutations would actually look like; I don't feel like drawing full-body references right now so I'll try and give a brief summary of the most significant features in a "full-manifestation" state of mutation. Maybe with some sketches thrown in too.

For Leon;

He'd have two sets of large insectoid mandibles within his mouth (normally folded against the actual jawbone/teeth), which are capable of protruding quite far out for serious chomping action. Think of it as a weird cross between the mandibles of Elites/Sangheili (Halo) and the mandibles of tarantulas. When they're folded up, the tips of the fangs stick out from his lips a little bit.

There's a lot of thick, chitinous plating on his body. While it doesn't cover his entire body, it's mainly present along his spine, the ribs, his outer thighs, and along his arms. Everything below the knees and elbows, however, become almost completely chitinous. He gets toe/finger beans however.

He gets a tail. It's basically a cross between the tail of a Verdugo and the tail of scorpions like the thick-tailed scorpion. In its 'default' state it's about 6 feet in length, but it can actually stretch to as far as 13 feet long - the chitin does not stretch along with it, though, so there's a lot of sections of exposed muscle that can leave it vulnerable to damage.

He gets an extra pair of mantis-like pincer-limbs that normally lie at rest folded up on his back, but can spring out into action for gripping onto surfaces or stabbing enemies.

The hands and feet remain human-like in structure but the digits become a lot stronger and somewhat elongated. Combined with him getting straight-up claws and he can climb walls with no issue most of the time.

For Ashley;

She'd basically get a lot of the same features as Leon; chitin plating, a tail (though hers is much smaller, can't elongate, and lacks a bladed stinger), extra limbs (which are, again, smaller and not so deadly), and claws. She lacks the mouth-mandibles however, and gets a pair of wings that resemble that of a moth's but are much more durable in comparison.

#ooc #musings #gloria las plagas; mutation verse #baby eagle; ashley graham #hi yeah wow this got fucking LONG.#ill draw them some day #wheres everybody going? bingo?; leon kennedy

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tynasandwich · 1 year ago

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Foreign

character: Bruno Bucciarati

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: All alone in a foreign country, with no knowledge of the language, you struggle to find your way around, until a handsome man with a charming smile offers to help.

Did the map say turn right, or turn left? Is that even the same park as on the map? Where is that goddamn lake then? Where is the- oh the maps upside down.

You've been walking for what felt like hours now. Taking unsure rights and hesitant lefts. You were probably further from your destination that you were at the beginning.

Italy seemed like a great holiday destination at first, but now you weren't too sure.

Take a left, then a right, then another two lefts. Hold on, isn't this the same place from half an hour ago?

You sigh in distress, feeling lost in the foreign country, probably looking absolutely helpless to everyone passing by.

The floor felt more welcoming than any directions the map tried tricking you into taking, so you sat down, the pain from walking for so long finally settling in your legs.

After a few minutes of rest, a shadow cast down on your figure. A shadow of a person to be specific.

You didn't bother looking up, knowing you'd look absolutely exhausted.

"You're a foreigner? " the man questioned, looking down at you. He'd never seen you around, he had to make sure you didn't have any malicious intent.

"How could you tell? I'm gonna guess it wasn't because of how I look, "

The man laughed slightly before reaching a hand out to help you up.

Stood up, you finally looked at the taller man. His hairstyle was odd, anyone would've thought that, but no one around you even glanced at him.

He had sharp, prominent features, his eyes ,the color of sapphires, sparkled with curiosity.

"It's rude to stare, " he smirked teasingly as you open your mouth to defend yourself.

"Bruno." He sticks his hand out for a handshake, not giving you the chance to speak. You introduce yourself, shaking his hand.

"Lost, are we?"

"Yeah... "

"Come with me, I'll show you around. "

You follow the man, worries about being kidnapped or killed surfaced, but at least there's a chance he'd help you, so you wouldn't have to walk in circles for another three hours.

"So whats the destination? " he turns around and looks at you expectantly.

"My hotel.. " you blush with embarrassment. Not being able to find a restaurant or park is one thing, but your own hotel?

"So straightforward, buy me dinner first," he smiles widely at you again.

Ignoring his remark, you explain to the best of you ability where you remember your hotel being.

"Ah!" he simply responded, walking off, leaving you to rush after him. Curse his long legs.

It wasn't long before you reached the hotel, thanking him profusely, before turning away.

However, he stops you, grabbing your arm.

"How about I buy you that dinner, hm?

#jjba #jjba bruno #bruno bucciarati #jjba part 5 #vento aureo #fluff #jjba fluff

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tannieschim · 3 years ago

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when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again.

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, minor character death, pain, unrequited love, swearing, talks of past sexual experience while intoxicated, pining, longing, really sad reader, and lots of angst.

word count: 7.2 k

"you would die for her, for him."

"You're dying."

The two words escape past his lips steadily and breathily as your widening eyes linger on the way his hands fiddle with one another out of habit. He sighs deeply and resists the urge to avoid screaming at you and maintain eye contact out of professionalism, pushing back his slipping glasses.

"At this rate, you won't have any more than a month. Had you told me this sooner, y/n, the results wouldn't have been as scarce. But because you waited after almost a year of this, I'm afraid there's not much to do." He pushes his desk lightly to pull away from it, creating a mere distance between himself and the papers which finalized your future's passing. Reaching his collar, he tugs on his tie to loosen it before unbuttoning the first stitch as he looks at you with seemingly stray and angered eyes mixed with sympathy.

Suddenly, his sight wanders the room as he shakes his head repeatedly, scoffing in disbelief. He then smiles, dimples prominent, lip tightened, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes broken, piercing straight at its target - that being you.

Standing up, he takes off his glasses and slams his fist onto the chair's arm rest before running a hand across his hair, softly hissing.

The professionalism is now out of the drain, "You're an idiot, y/n."

"Fucking stupid. How could you not- I mean- how could you not tell me? I'm your brother! We're family. Blood. We're supposed to- we're supposed to tell each other these things and you just fucking- you kept it to yourself all these months! Ten months! And now I'm sitting here being the one to tell you that you're dying? That you're leaving me? I would've done something. I would've helped you, I- I would've killed whoever this person you're in love with is. y/n, please- I just-"

You don't know why, but you felt exhausted.

The ringing in your ears is deafening. Truthfully, you hadn't heard a single thing the minute you received news that you'll be, well, passing away. Not to mention, within 30 days time.

It's not as if you didn't already know about your condition, of course you did. Coughing soft pink camellia flowers every time you see the man that's brought you here is not exactly something that just simply passes a blind eye. You sense it, you feel it, and it hurts.

It really, really hurts.

You also felt awful for your brother. You hadn't meant for it to go this far. You didn't mean to not tell him. You didn't want your assigned doctor to suddenly call in sick and have your brother temporarily take his place. You didn't mean for him to find out this way - such a twisted, horrible fucking way, but here you are.

"I'm sorry, Joon. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to go this far. I just-"

"Were you ever even going to tell me?" He cuts you off, voice low and steady, almost afraid of your coming response.

Your eyes locate his across the cramped room, and one could clearly tell that it's striving its hardest to fight against desperate tears.

"I- yes, Joon. I was. Of course I was. I was gonna do it after this check in actually, but I guess God wanted you to find out sooner than I intended, though He could've just waited a little while longer and it would've been fine." You joke whisperingly, the heavy weight of your heart lightening just a small bit when you notice the corners of his lips twitch and his eyes faintly soften.

Regrettably, that was a lie. You didn’t plan on telling him, not today at least. Maybe not even ever.

The softening air lasts for only a second as his following question makes you hold back the urge to cough up another camellia flower slowly blooming its way to your throat.

"Who is it?"

Genuine, concerned, curious. These were all that he was.

But noticing the way your body went entirely rigid at his words and the way your hand clutched your clothed chest in attempt to shut down what you know will happen next, Namjoon's brotherly instincts causes him to naturally make his way towards you softly, taking small and careful strides towards your fragile state.

And once he's finally reached you, he gets on his knees gently in order for him to be of nearing same height level as you're sitting down, his hands rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting manner.

He does this all before pulling the trigger.

"Who are you in love with, y/n?"

two years back

"Jimin!"

You call out your brother's best friend loudly, who is currently in the midst of doing a one-man stage play in front of the mirror, "Joon's saying you guys need to get going now. Says he has a patient in two hours and wants to go over all sorts of documents before treating her."

Turning around, you scan the living room and dining room for the keys of your friend's car as your brother also asked you to hand them to him since the two always end up on forgetting it until they've already reached the car parked across your apartment's block.

You hear Jimin shuffle behind you, "Really? He wants to go over documents at- 9 AM in the morning?"

Smiling at his attempts of complaint, you nod your head softly in order to play along and answer his rhetorical question, "He really needs to learn how to drive doesn't he? Since he's dragging you along everywhere he goes."

Jimin laughs at your statement, which being an opinion, your brother would argue, 'driving isn't a necessary aspect of life.' But who really thinks like that? Oh right, non-drivers.

“I guess he’s getting too caught up in learning medicine that he forgot to learn how to officially become an adult.” Reaching above the kitchen top, you finally found sight of Jimin's car keys.

How did it even get up there? You think to yourself. It's really high up, so Namjoon must've been the one to leave it as to where it is.

You groan slightly, "Joon, can you get over here! I found Chim's keys but it's too far up high so I can't reach it. Hell I don't even think he can reach this-"

You are cut off when you feel a hand sneak around your waist, making you flinch and suddenly spin cautiously.

Eyes widened. Lips parted. Breath hitched. You let out an inaudible gasp as you come to the realization that Jimin is now in front of you, head tilted with an amused smile on his face, "Excuse you? I can very much reach this." He says, all the while reaching up behind you, inchly leaning forward. At this point, your body is being pressed up against the kitchen counter and his oh-so-very toned front.

This small action is enough to instigate a flaming abyss inside of you as you very much attempt to calm your alarmed heart.

You can feel the cuts and lines of his abs against your chest as he is now standing on his tippy toes, desperately trying to reach the keys on the kitchen top. Anyone that could see his posture would call him adorable, but your body is currently being sandwiched and by all that is high and mighty your mind can't even really process a single thing. Wait, what were you thinking just now?

"See? Got it." Jimin falls back in place as he jiggles his car keys in front of your stone-cold face, smile wide as he giggles softly, "Piece of cake, y/n."

He then proceeds to move on with his life like he didn't just do what the fuck he just did.

Clearing your throat, you blink about a million times in order to gather your thoughts. Your heartbeat is racing faster than the speed of light and your lips have become as dry as a desert. If you had gone standing on your tippy toes just as he did, you would've been a baby hair away from lips touching. The thought is enough to make you grow weak.

Yet as if something inside of you is suddenly turned on, no pun intended, you remind yourself that these thoughts are wrong. You can't be having these apprehensions, they aren't right. Because not only is he your brother's best friend, he also has a-

"y/n?" Jimin's soft voice calls out your name.

Breaking out of your trance, you turn to see him sitting down on the dining table, head tilted downwards with a small smile on his face. The sun escapes your pastel curtains as it slips past the window sill, reasoning with the current ray of golden yellow that has found its home on Jimin’s plump cheek, shining on the left side of his luminous face.

It's absolutely senseless how he can look as beautiful as he does simply by existing, and it makes perfect sense that your finding yourself to liking him more and more.

Just look at him.

You are broken out of your enchanted daze once more as dreaded words leave his smiling lips, "I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Only then were you brought back to your inadequate reality.

“W- what?” You attempt to speak, but you notice the way your voice has suddenly become noticeably hoarse.

Jimin looks up at you with a smile, the kind that has his eyes almost disappearing.

“Sung. I’m gonna ask her to marry me tonight.”

silence.

and more silence.

Like a coward, that was all what you could muster to respond with.

And only then did you notice the velvet box on his hands, upon which he is tenderly caressing. Only then did you recognize the questionable romantic script of his one-man stage just moments earlier. Only then did you realize that the reason behind his growing smile are because of her, not you. Not because of what had just taken place.

Only then did you remember that no, you can't be having these apprehensions - they aren't right.

Because not only is he your brother's best friend,

he also has a, now upcoming, fiancé.

present time

"I already loved him then, Joon."

By this time, your brother has stood up and begun pacing back and forth the modest office, murmurs of curses towards his friend escaping past his lips, "-that small son of a bitch."

Smiling softly, you look down in reminiscence of the moments you have spent falling for Jimin. "I guess I've always been infatuated with him ever since our first meeting, but my God Joonie," you pause, inhaling a short breath in attempt to stop tears threatening to spill. "-ever since that day, when he told me that he was going to propose to her, I finally realized that like was the wrong term to use. I realized that I loved him and I just- I lost sight of everything." You cry, small sobs coming from you as you blinkingly look up to try to contain the waters forming in your eyes.

It was true. That day, when he told you about his plans to ask her to marry him, you've never felt more indignant.

Of course you faked it at first, congratulated him and consoled him into truthfully believing that she will undoubtedly say yes. But the minute he and Namjoon left your apartment, you collapsed on your carpeted floors, sobbing loudly and hitting your chest repetitively all the while cursing yourself in your head for ever even considering the tiniest of possibilities that you and Jimin could ever happen.

You also went out that night, got drunk, found a guy, slept with him, and never looked back.

Sure, this may seem like a regular night out for many, but not being the type to kiss and sleep, sex meant a lot to you.

Nothing wrong with one night stands, that just wasn't your particular chosen lifestyle. But you were wasted. You were intoxicated. You didn't know what you were doing. Had you been sober, you wouldn't have done what you did, especially with the person you did it with. So when you woke up in the middle of the night naked in bed next to a familiar face and realized what you've done, you rushingly stood up, got dressed, and left, ignoring the calls of the man you had just been with.

You went straight home and washed yourself for hours, feeling dirty and sloppy and disgusting. You can easily recollect sitting down in the showers, head tucked underneath and in between your legs, sobbing and crying loudly as the steam surrounding you from the warm water kept on worsening.

You hated what you did, and you most definitely despised the reason for what you did, - to simply get over someone else. You felt guilty. You felt ashamed. What would Jimin think? You thought to yourself. And though that truly didn't really matter, the ache in your heart kept on making you believe otherwise.

You didn't notice how your tears have fallen and stained your newly-bought jeans until Namjoon's hands holding a napkin comes within your perception.

Mumbling a small 'sorry Joonie,' you accept his offer and wipe the tears still continuously streaming down your now reddened, warm, and puffy face. As you do this, you furthermore catch sight of your brother's shadow rubbing his face in frustration, matching the groans that you also hear release from him in the background. And without meaning so, you deflate in insecurity.

Hearing the sound of air being released from a pulling force, you look up to see that Namjoon has sat back down, his elbows resting on the desk while his chin rest on his hands. "Does he know about this, y/n?"

You sigh, "No."

"Are you going to tell him?" You hear him ask once more.

Closing your eyes and sniffing lightly, you inhale a steady breath as you answer him for the second time, "I don't know, Joon."

Namjoon looks at you, eyes full of worry and concern. You don't know?

You're his sister, and he loves you. He would do anything for you. If he could shower you with all the love that you lack from Jimin, he would. And he would do it in a heartbeat. But you're dying. You're leaving him. And he doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know what to do. So how could you not know? How could you sit here, in front of him, after keeping this shit for ten months to yourself, tell him that you just don't know?

He feels frustrated. Frustrated over the clearing fact that if you don't know the answer to that simple yes or no question, then how more could you know the answer to when he asks you to make the choice?

The choice - to love or to die.

A very careful, unprecedented surgery that has been performed by professionals only a few times, yet each one has been successful. This seems easy, yeah. A surgery to save your life? Of course you'll do it! But there's a reason as to why this has been done only by a certain small count.

To perform the surgery and live, the price is not the expense, but rather the loneliness that shall come as you spend the rest of your life void of emotions. The surgery doesn't get rid of love on its own, it gets rid of everything that comes with it - happiness, sadness, trust, pain, pretty much everything that one can possibly feel. The only emotion left is indifference, yet even indifference lacks its self-sustainability.

Who would want to live like that?

Who would want to live a life where you just simply exist and nothing more?

He knows that the day will come eventually - when he offers you the choice, the chance to save your life, and he knows it will come soon. But right now, he has chosen to prioritize being a brother over a doctor. Right now, the only thing in his mind is comforting you.

"Okay." Your brother nods, making your eyes widen slightly in shock.

Okay? No scolding? No 'how could you not know?!' older brother reprimands? But then you remember, oh yeah. You're dying. And who could possibly scold their dying little sister?

"I'm sorry Joonie-" You try to apologize once more before he cuts you off again.

"No, don't apologize, y/n. It's not like you could've possibly wanted for any of this to happen, yeah?" He offers you a smile, but you could easily see past its fabricated purpose, "But instead let me ask you this. And I need you, in our deceased parent's name, to be completely honest with me."

You only nod, completely submissive and understanding of his seriousness the moment that he mentioned your passed parents.

"What you just told me, when you first fell in love with him, that was two years ago." He starts, making you nod again in agreement.

"But you were diagnosed only ten months ago."

Your heart drops, and you don't nod again.

"The Hanahaki Disease is not something that gradually begins and comes to existence over the course of time. It is an illness that is triggered. It could be by a sudden forthcoming realization or proclamation of love, or by an event that triggers the heart to completely shut down in overwhelmth. Either way, basing on the timing of what you've said, you should've been diagnosed with the Hanahaki two years ago. But you weren't."

Namjoon eyes you questioningly, but not too much to the extent that you feel uncomfortable, only just enough to remind you of the importance of this conversation, "You were only diagnosed ten months ago, y/n. Why?"

You sit still, not wanting to move, as if your stone figure would somehow make him think that you're not real or that you're a simple figment of his messed up imagination.

"y/n, what happened ten months ago?"

He finishes his question and you swallow harshly only to realize that you're parched, your throat completely dry. You then tilt your head to steal a gaze at your brother, making you catch the way his eyes suddenly widened as if he just realized something of high importance. As if he had just realized the answer to his own question. And that didn't work with you.

Clearing your throat, you are about to answer him in order to cut off his thoughts until the door swings open and you feel your throat compact, - the coughs of a camellia flower slipping its way to visibility -because there he is,

the man of the hour.

"y/n." He noticeably breathes a sigh of relief before making his way to you, engulfing you in a giant embrace. "I was so worried about you. Why didn't you tell me you had the Hanahaki? How could you not let me know? How long have you had it? Who is it? I swear I'm going to murder whoever this piece of shit is that he dared ever making yo-"

"Jimin this is a professional space between a doctor and his patient." The two of you pull away almost exactly the same time as soon as Namjoon speaks up, Jimin's eyebrows furrowing, "Get out."

"What?" Jimin barely gather the voice to ask him as he is completely caught off guard of his friend's erupting vulgar attitude.

"I said-" Namjoon speaks before getting caught off again.

"No trust me, I heard what you said. But what?" Jimin repeats himself, "So you're telling me you're not prioritizing being y/n's brother right now? You're still caught up in this Doctor Kim bullshit? Like you're a real one?"

"Jimin-" You attempt to budge in, sensing that a certain trouble may suddenly come knocking.

"No, y/n. Listen hyung-"

"No, YOU listen. You small piece of shit." Your brother raises his voice, "-don't come barging in here like you own the place or like you have any authority over her. She is MY sister and this is a family matter. So it's best you stay out of it and keep in your lane."

At this point, Namjoon is in front of Jimin, a short distance separating the two of them, "And don't you ever dare speak to me in that tone again. I know you're my friend, but remember to treat me with respect. Not only am I your superior, but I'm also your hyung." He finishes with a serious voice, tone low, and message deep. His earnest eyes piercing through his friend's pained ones.

Jimin, mouth slightly agape being at loss for words and clearly confused at his close friend's unreasonable anger, storms out of the room.

But not before he drags you along with him.

Namjoon is quick to act as he tries to reach for you, but you turn back and look at him pleadingly, signaling him that it's okay and to not worry. And him being the understanding brother that he is, pulls back and holds himself steady.

You can handle him. You’re a Kim. You’re strong.

Strong enough to survive through this.

You’ll be okay.

And as he watches the two of you leave, the door closing shut right in front of him, only then does reality hit Namjoon as his legs tremble abruptly, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

Falling down the floor, he reaches onto the desk for assistance as he slides his back down the wooden wall, hands painfully fisted and finding its way to cover his mouth in order to muffle the choked-in sobs perilously escaping him. He proceeds to blink away the tears and bite harshly on his lips, trying to diminish the flourishing grievance in his heart.

His sister is dying, and he doesn't know what to do.

“Doctor Kim? The next patient is ready to see you.” A knocking nurse distracts him and calls out from behind the door, “-shall I send them in?”

Namjoon sniffs heavily and sighs deeply, rushingly grabbing his glasses and adjusting his emotionally wrecked state, “One moment!”

He lets out a soft, shaky breath and reminds himself once more that you’re a Kim.

You’re strong.

You can beat this.

It'll be alright.

You'll be okay.

"IM NOT OKAY JIMIN-SHI!" You voicely whine out to your friend who is currently dragging you along the halls of the hospital and out the technologically advanced glass doors, "What is wrong with you?!" You pull your arm aggressively from his grasp as you bend down, hands resting on your knees while you hastily try to catch your breath. The camellia flower stuck just along the chords of your throat making it very difficult.

Jimin stares at you worryingly, having forgotten of your illness, "O- oh no. y/n, I'm sorry I forgot I- are you okay? Should we go back?" He stutters in concern before you hold up one finger, signaling him to shut the hell up. "-sorry."

Looking at you like this, tired and exhausted from having to put up with all his bullshit, Jimin feels a sudden urge to reach out and embrace you tightly, almost forgetting of his previous encounter with your brother.

And so that's exactly what he does.

You are caught off guard the moment you feel a hand grab your shoulder by means of pulling you closer all the while another rests just at your crook of spine, and although this first makes you stumble in a not-so-very prettily way, your destination is found to be in your friend's embrace, his fragile yet protective arms wrapped around you securely.

Not letting this moment simply pass by, you let yourself melt in his arms as you find the comfort meant to be found in his comforting hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slightly stand on your tippy toes. Somehow, your simple action makes him pull you even closer, one hand creeping behind your neck all the while his other is completely wrapped around your waist although this time is tighter than before.

As the two of you stay like this in the middle of the sliding glass doors of the hospital, crowds of unfamiliar voices passing by you and ambulances ringing endlessly against your ear, you let yourself submerge within the passion of your heart.

Amidst the chaos and cries of your nearingly counted days, you find consolation in the arms of the same man that has put you in front of death's door, and quite frankly, you wouldn't really want it any other way. You'll take what is given by the heavens above when it comes to Jimin, because well- you love him.

Unfortunately, that quick and simple thought is enough to make you lose control of your reminded disease.

"y-y/n what's- are you okay?" Jimin pulls away from you abruptly as you break into coughing fits, pastel pink camellia blossoms escaping your trembling lips.

The sight has caught the attention of many civilians, but both you and Jimin remain to be indifferent about them as you or more or less are occupied with your illness all the while Jimin specifically aims his attention on you alone.

"Alright that's it, screw your brother alright?" Jimin exclaims a bit louder than what you're comfortable with as this obviously did not benefit with the proceedingly growing public focus on the two of you, "-we're going back, y/n, it's my fault for bringing you outside so suddenly-"

"No chim, please-" You roughly attempt to speak out, your throat painfully extracting the feeling of abrasiveness, "Please just- let's just go."

"y/n.."

“Please chim,” you cut him off for what seemed to be the fiftieth time, coughing, “-please. I don’t want to be here any longer.”

Hesistant yet concerned, Jimin nods slowly as he assists your side, his hands finding its home around your waist and lower back while you both take short and careful strides. You destination is still unknown, but you didn’t mind. A journey a day with someone you love has never turned out for the worse.

At least that's what you think.

"Really?" You roll your eyes as you notice the familiar lane that Jimin's car just entered, "I asked you to get me out of the hospital area, I didn't ask for a sleepover, Jimin." You jokingly accuse him, but you can't help the smile that makes its way on your puffed-up face as you notice him smoothly take a side-glance at you with a knowing smirk.

"Well I thought that with all that bad hospital air, you might've wanted to breathe in a familiar scent," Jimin responds as the car comes to a stop.

You turn slightly to open the door and step out before you here a meek, "Jankkanman!" and perceive a 5'9 in height blondie come running around the bonnet in order to open the car door for you as a gentleman would. It is such a sweet and casual pantomime, yet an ill-patient diagnosed with an illness of the heart can never bring you any wins. Consequently, his actions only causes your throat to feel strained and compacted for the endless time.

God, how much did you love this man that such a simple gesture makes you want to cough out countless of fully bloomed flowers?

You thank the heavens above for your past endless experiences that allowed you to now be better in terms of hiding your pain as you attempt to smile genuinely, mumbling a small "thank you" in the process before making your way inside his home.

"So," Jimin starts as the two of you plop down his couch, his eyes seeking for yours as he tilts his head ever so lightly, "what should we do today... now that you're out of that hell hole?"

"Chim!" You scold him lightly, "my brother and your best friend just happens to be working in that hell hole, just in case you forgot, and- hey! You work there too, you ass." You accusingly point at him all the while hitting his arm playfully.

Jimin is was a nurse in that hospital. Your brother is a doctor.

He laughs and smiles widely, "Nope. I don't work there anymore, remember? But I did for a while, which is why I can most definitely testify that that place is indeed, a hell hole. And by the way, I'm kind of offended that you pretty much forgot my lost profession just then, y/n, like what the fuck?" He jokes endingly.

Your eyes soften slightly as he mentions his lack of job, yet you still stubbornly choose to ignore his last remark. "Well I sure hope that's not the case since I'll be most likely spending my last days there."

Oops.

The silence that ensues goes inevitably noticed by the two of you the moment those words escaped past your lips, but you paid no mind. That was the reason that you asked him to take you away anyways. You weren't hoping for some cliche romantic bullshit where the two of you simply elope and forget your real worries in your life, no. Instead you were here with the main purpose of facing it.

Besides, even if you did want to leave with him, you couldn't. Remember?

Jimin is the first to break the excessive blockade, "Don't say that y/n."

You sigh, "But it's true, chim."

"I don't give a shit if it's true or not."

"Chim.." You are slightly startled with his sudden outburst, caught off guard in the way his voice slightly raised as his attention and body language are now completely directed at you, "Wha- why are you getting mad?"

Jimin scoffs, almost irritated at your oblivious question, "Why? Because you're talking of dying like it's not a big deal, y/n!" His voice getting louder and louder by every word he spits out, "God, you know you can be so fucking insensitive sometimes. What, did you already forget the shit I suffered when I lost someone? Did you already forget all the fucking shit I suffered when death took her from me?"

At the mention of her, you pause. Speechless. Guilty. Hurt.

Of course you remember. How could you not? You remember the darkest of days as like it was just yesterday.

You remember getting that call in the middle of the night from the contact name of your brother as you slightly answered it in an irritated voice, "Joon I swear to God if you're asking me to drive you to work in the middle of the fucking night I will personally drag your ass right now to get a driver's liscenc-"

"y/n?"

You remember immediately stopping as you recognize the voice that most certainly did not belong to your brother, "Chim?"

"y- y/n."

You remember the outbreak of his sobs as you call out to him, his sniffles and cries becoming more and more prominent as you stumble on your feet, struggling with keeping your phone against and in between your ear and your shoulder as you hurryingly take off to grab a jacket and your keys, "Chim what's wrong, where the hell are you? W- where's Joon?"

You remember the way your heart dropped as your worst fear came to mind, the thought of losing your brother itself being enough to make you wobble in your feet, your heart clenching. He had your brother's phone, and he was crying.

"N-no, he- he's fine, y/n. It's not him, hyung's... hyung's fine."

You remember the way he struggled to find the right words; the way he sniffled and stuttered through forming such a simple sentence all the while you on the other side of the line breathe out a sigh of relief at the information of your brother's wellness, yet feeling slightly guilty that your emotions are in contrast with your friend's.

"It's Sung."

You remember Jimin's worst.

"It's Sung, y/n. Sh- she got in an accident on the way here to visit me during my off hours and- fuck! Some fucking demon pulled a hit and run on her. She was walking, y/n. She walked an hour here and got ran over by someone and.. they're doing an operation on her- hyung's assisting and he just- it's bad. It was really bad and she was bleeding all fucking over and- hyung, he- he left his phone and I didn't know what to do so I just called you- I didn't, they pushed me out of the room, y/n. I need you here. Please, please. Please come here because I'm losing my fucking mind and I need you here."

You remember driving to the hospital as careful as you can with the fear of the possibility of an accident occurring still in the midst of the back of your mind.

You remember reaching the doors of the emergency room and being greeted with a pair of reddened and exhausted eyes that looked up the moment you walked in, "Jin."

He stands up to greet you politely but you stop him, obviously seeing that his reaction upon seeing you is no more than a forced delight, "Let's not do this under these circumstances, okay? You're allowed to feel unwelcoming. It's okay, Jin."

He does no more than mumble a small 'thank you' before going back to his previous spot with you trudging along beside him.

You remember feeling the sorrow of the man beside you as you watch him lean his head back against the wall, fragile streaks of tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. You couldn't imagine his pain, the pain of such a situation where your sister's life is at stake. You wanted to comfort him, to softly rub his back and whisper sweet encouragements against his ear, little white lies that his sister is guaranteed to make it without a doubt. But you couldn't. You weren't here for him, regardless of your history. Regardless of the way you left him the morning after your supposed mistake.

"Uhm, have you seen Jimin?"

You remember the way his void eyes find yours and the way his lips lightly upturn as he gives you a forced smirk, trying to keep up with his image of being Kim Seokjin, Kim Sungkyung's handsome and cocky older brother, "And here I was thinking fate brought you here to me, y/n." He trails off, "-considering how you fucked me then dipped."

You gasp slightly and playfully hit his arm at the blunt mention of your regretted one night stand as you give him a small yet genuine smile, partly glad yet at the same time worried that he can make such remarks during a situation like this.

It was strange really, how everything in your life seemed to be connected. How on the day you felt your heart tore apart the time Jimin first mentioned his planned proposal, you went out and accidentally slept with the soon-to-be-bride's older brother.

Letting out a small sigh, Jin nods his head in the direction of a different waiting room, "He left when I came. Guess he was embarrassed of how fucked up he was but hey- I'm not doing any fucking better am I?" He tells you, subtly pointing at the very visible streaks of tears still falling down his now puffy face.

You get on your feet and turn to leave but not before giving one last glance at the man next to you, a hand softly reaching to rub his shoulder, "I'm so sorry, Jin. I wish I could stay, but-"

"It's okay, y/n. Go." Jin encourages you with a small yet noticeably forced smile, "He needs you."

And so you do, bidding him a soft goodbye before taking off, your eyes beginning to water out of the guilt of leaving a friend in that state.

You then remember being suffocated. Suffocated from the embrace that greeted you the moment Jimin entered your peripheral vision. You remember landing on your behind with a harsh thud from the struggle of Jimin's weight as he continues to seek your embrace for means of comfort, the two of you falling down the floor. You remember getting drenched from Jimin's tears as you cradle him as would a wailing child, rocking him back and forth all the while softly rubbing his back, whispering every bit of amenity that could make him feel better.

You remember feeling your heart physically ache as you fail to notice the tears that have fallen down your own eyes, blurring your sight.

To see Jimin in this state, so broken and hurt and scared, it tore you apart. You wanted him happy. You wanted him smiling. You wanted him. You loved him. And God forbid that you're admitting this in your own mind while his fiance is battling for her own life, but fuck.

You wanted nothing more than to lay down your own life for Sung so that she could continue in existence for him.

If you could, you would take here place.

You would die for her, for him.

You remember pushing back your thoughts as you put focusing on Jimin your first priority. You remember keeping him in a neverending tight embrace as he neverendingly sobs against your chest, his lips leaving prayers you could barely yet still tried to understand;

please don't let her die

don't take her away from me

i love her too much

i still have to marry her.

You then remember hearing a wail of anguish, putting a pause to both Jimin's silent pleas and your eavesdropping as the both of your heads turn to pinpoint from whom the noise came from.

You remember the way Jimin stilled.

"No."

You remember his whisper of such a small, two-lettered word, yet somehow it caused your heart to crumble.

"No no no no-"

You remember having to tackle Jimin slightly as he causes a mess of himself, punching the seats and harshly tugging on his hair all the while screaming wails of pain and suffering, "Jimin please-"

"No- get the fuck off of me! Sung?!"

You remember how Jimin lost sight of reality as he pushes you off of him, your body making in contact with the cold tiled ground.

"SUNG? SUNG! LET ME INSIDE-"

You remember seeing nurses and other staff pull the man you love back as he causes a scene, starting to become physical and violent with the people surrounding him, "PLEASE! Please- I just- I NEED TO SEE HER! SHES MY FIANCE-"

You remember seeing a man dressed in blue make his way near Jimin, a needle in his hand.

"H-hey, no!" You remember trying to catch up to the nurse, attempting to prevent them from giving whatever the shot was to Jimin, "Stop! Please-"

"y/n. D-don't."

You remember feeling a hand on your shoulder which makes you turn around instantly, only to find the culprit behind the anguished scream just moments prior Jimin's outburst.

"Jin." You start, "-they're going to sedate him. That- that's not okay."

"They have to, y/n." Another voice calls out from behind Jin, "I know how it seems and I don't like it either, b-but he's becoming violent. They have to sedate him."

"Joon." You whisper softly.

What a sick and twisted game that life is playing on you, that your brother, Jimin's best friend, Jimin's best man at the wedding being planned, is the one to give news of the bride's passing.

"Sung, is she really.." You trail off, not having the heart to finish your sentence.

It seems neither does he, as he responds with nothing but a simple avoidance of eye contact.

"HYUNG!"

You remember Jimin's faint and tired yet still firm voice as he calls out your brother, "Hyung, you saved her didn't you? You- you were part of the surgery. You saved her didn't you? Didn't you!?" Jimin is weak as he trails off his words as the effect of the syringe takes its course, but that doesn't stop him from reaching out to the three of you, "H-hyung. Tell me you saved her. P-please tell me you saved h-her."

Namjoon doesn't stop the tear that rolls down his hardened face as he only shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Jimin. We did our best. We really, really did. I'm so sorry-"

You remember the way Namjoon's voice trails off your hearing as your throat suddenly feels contracted. You remember the itching pain just within your chest as you find the struggle to breath, your hand clutching it harshly. You remember stumbling back just a little bit as you feel lightheaded, thinking that these were only from the overwhelming happenings in that moment.

But then you cough.

And you cough

and you cough

and you cough.

But no one notices you.

Not even yourself.

Your attention remains still at Jimin, who has now dropped completely to the floor, tears still continuously spilling out of his drowsy eyes. Short breaths are released from his trembling lips as he mumbles words that none of you can understand. He then begins to seemingly reach out for something, someone.

"P-please," He whispers.

And as you bend down almost immediately to attend to his calls, you cough.

And you cough

and you cough.

And still no one notices.

No one except him.

You cough as your eyes find his, barely open yet staring right at you from the lows of the floor.

You remember having to excuse yourself and run to the nearest restroom you can find, legs trembling and stumbling on your way there as you push against the winds of the almost empty halls, still coughing with every step you take. And just as you reach the doors of the restroom, you turn back slightly, just enough to catch Jimin's last sight while his body is being carried away to where you guess is a vacant patient's room, all this before his eyes ultimately close.

Eyes you found lastly staring at you.

You remember finally shutting the door and locking it, thanking God silently that you're in a family restroom hence there is no one else inside. You cough desperately, your throat beginning to feel exclusively sore and your lungs beginning to tighten from all the air being released as you cough and cough and cough again.

You reach out to the sink, gripping tightly onto the white metals as you cough and cough and cough again.

You then brushingly turn to the toilet, your eyes watering and lips numbing as you cough and you cough and you cough once more.

You practically clean the whole restroom, as disgusting as that sounds, from all the moving you made as you coughed anywhere and everywhere. You felt awful for the next person to come inside, now that your bacterium were practically in its every corner, side, and space. You cough again, this time harder, the worst one out of the previous.

You remember sensing a certain feeling rise up, something soft yet itchy, something light yet heavy.

And so you cough, and you cough, and you cough, and you cough,

and you bleed.

And amongst the red is a pink.

A single, individual pink petal from what you would soon find out is a camellia flower - the flower that is soon to be the latter symbolization of death chasing you, growing closer, inching nearer, just about to knock on your door.

So of course you remember Jimin's distraught. Of course you remember Sung's - his fiance's death.

Because her death was too, the ultimate beginning of yours.

taglist for part 2?

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anarmorofwords · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! You're probably not going to like this ask, but before getting into it I'd just like to say that this isn't meant as Kamala hate or anything, and I don't really want to offend.

Having said that, wouldn't it make sense that we get to see how Kamala treated Anna after she came out? It's in all likelihood one of the things that's weighing on Anna the most.

Obviously Kamala had her valid reasons: her parents aren't as liberal as the Lightwoods, she believes (knows?) their love is conditional as she's adopted, she's not white and not being heterosexual could further any treatment she's suffered from being different... Her reasons have already been listed multiple times by multiple people. Kamala has the right to stay in the closet and fear coming out. And while that shouldn't be villianised, we can't forget that closeted people can harm those around them.

If Kamala had kept treating Anna like a good friend, rumour would've sparked, and even if it was denied, she'd have been harmed by merely associating with Anna. Especially with the life Anna began leading; she could have been labelled as one of Anna's 'conquests' by the Clave. That, as we've established, is detrimental for her safety.

But at the same time, it would create a breach between Anna and Kamala. And Anna had the right to be hurt by it and weary of it when Kamala said she wanted a relationship.

If we look at it from that perspective, Anna's actions (though inexcusable in how they treated Kamala --who was also at fault for not accepting a negative for four months) make sense. Kamala wasn't only a fling of a week*, but also the girl she lost her virginity with, who asked her to be her secret (until she married Charles, after which Anna's affections would be discarded), who hid her sexuality for two years and sat back while Anna suffered from homophobic commentary, and who now wants a relationship hidden from most of the people that know her.

Kamala shouldn't be forced to come out; but the harm that can do to the women she may engage with is reflective of what happens nowadays. I can mostly think of examples with gay men, so my apologies in advance. But how many women have seen their marriages ruined by their husband having affairs with men?

Creating characters that reflect a toxic part of the 'hidden' LGBT community shouldn't be seen as hating or villinifying. Thomas isn't out and he isn't labelled a villain by the narrative --because his actions don't harm anyone. The hate Alastair gets in-universe is because of his past as a bully, not because he's gay. Matthew's not fully out and he isn't villianised --like Thomas, because the decisions he makes to keep his sexuality hidden don't impact anyone negatively.

I'll even go as far as saying that not even the narrative villianises characters like Kamala and Charles. If it were, they'd be seen more like Grace in Chain of Gold. We'd see how Kamala's actions are affecting Anna's in more ways than anger (that in itself put the fandom against Anna), and the characters would note so. We wouldn't see scenes were Cordelia empathised with Charles, nor Matthew said he loved him.

Be it as it may, Kamala and Charles represent ugly parts of being closeted that can naturally occur when someone is in their position. LGBT people are human. Humans, when put into very difficult situations (and Charles risks his career; Kamala her safety), can make decisions that harm those around them. Consequently, the people they're harming have a right to feel, well, harmed in whatever range of ways --this goes mostly for Alastair, and very partly for Anna, whose treatment of Kamala was horrible.

Readers need to understand what is pushing these 'villianised' characters to harm (again, mostly for Alastair) the more prominent characters and go beyond how they are instantly depicted. Because these are complex characters based on complex real people influenced by very ugly realities we will move on from someday, but sadly not yet.

By the way, Charles and Kamala's situations aren't that similar beyond the closeted thing, but I crammed them together because of a post I saw you reblog.

Please understand I'm not justifying Charles's actions; that I understand the pain he's put Alastair through, and know that he shouldn't ever be near Alastair. Nor am I trying to justify Anna's actions nor hate on Kamala.

I'll just finish my pointless rant by adding that I do think cc has sensitivity readers. I think she asked a gay man to go through tec (I don't know if he still revised her other books, though), and know she asked POC's input when writing someone for their culture. I don't know much beyond that, but I doubt who revises her stuff is up to her. Wouldn't that be something the publisher is responsible for (honest question)?

*I've also noticed people using the argument that they didn't know each other long enough for Anna to harbour such ugly emotions towards Kamala, but Kamala also remembered Anna pretty deeply and is 'in love' with her. I just wanted to say that considering cc writes (fantastical) romance where someone can ask a woman they met two months ago marriage, stressing over time spaces doesn't make much sense. Just my take.

hi!!

alright, where do I start? probably would be best with stating that while I can analyse Kamala's situation with what I know/see/read about racism and discrimination and reasonably apply things I've read/heard from PoC to the discussion, as well as try to be as sensitive about it as possible, I'm still a white woman, so not a person that's best qualified to talk about this.

that being said - if someone wants to add something to this conversation, you're obviously more than welcome to, and if there's something in my answer that you don't agree with or find in some way insensitive or offensive - please don't hesitate to call me out on that.

back to your points though: (this turned into a whole ass essay, so under the cut)

I don't think Anna shouldn't be able to reminiscent on Kamala's behaviour/reaction to her coming out, or be hurt by it. what bothers me is the way CC talks about it - I can't remember the exact phrasing, but the post where she mentioned this suggested something along the lines of "you'll see how Kamala sided with the Clave and didn't defend Anna after her coming out", therefore putting the blame on Kamala and completely disregarding the fact that Kamala wasn't in position to do much at all. It suggest that their situation was "poor Anna being mistreated by Kamala". therefore I'm afraid Kamanna's main problem/conflict will remain to be portrayed as "Anna having to allow themselves to love again and forgive Kamala", while Anna's shortcomings - and Kamala's vulnerable position - are never discussed. I think it would be possible to acknowledge both Kamala's difficult situation and the possible hurt her behaviour caused Anna without being insensitive towards Kamala's character, but it would take a really skilled - and caring - author to do both of the perspectives justice. CC would have to find a balance between being aware of the racism/prejudice Kamala faced/ writing her with lots of awareness and empathy, and still allowing her to make mistakes and acknowledging them. As it is however, I'm under impression that she's just treating it as a plot device, a relationship drama.

I'd say no one expects characters of color to be written as flawless or never making mistakes, it's mostly the way these mistakes are written and what things these characters are judged/shamed/

And that's - at least in my understanding and opinion - where the problem is. it's that the narrative never even addresses Anna's faults, and portrays Kamala as the one that caused all - or most of - the pain, without ever even acknowledging her problems and background.

White characters in TLH make mistakes and fuck up - because they're human and they're absolutely allowed to - but the thing is, non-white characters aren't afforded that privilege. Anna's behaviour is never questioned - none of it, shaming Kamala for not being able to come out, dismissing her desire to be a mother, or any of the questionable things she did in ChoI. Same with Matthew, James, Thomas. Alastair and Kamala however? they're constantly viewed through their past mistakes, and forced to apologize for them over and over, forced to almost beg for forgiveness. Moreover, those past mistakes are used as a justification of all and any shitty behaviour the other characters exhibit towards them now, which is simply unfair and cruel. They're held to a much higher standard.

So I'd like to say that yes, Kamala was in the wrong to keep nagging Anna after numerous rejections, and she was in the wrong to not inform Anna about Charles prior to them having sex - but that doesn't give Anna a free pass to constantly mistreat Kamala. And let's be real, Anna isn't stupid - while at 17 she could be naive and uninformed, I can't imagine how after years of hanging out with the Downworlders and numerous affairs and being out and judged by the Clave she's still so ignorant about Kamala's situation. I definitely think she's allowed to be hurt, but to still not understand why Kamala did what she did? Anna isn't blaming her for not telling her about Charles earlier - which would be fair - but instead for refusing to engage in an outright romance with her. She's being ignorant - and consciously so, I think.

Overall, I think you're definitely right about how coming out - or staying closeted - can be messy and hurt people in the process, especially in unaccepting environments/time periods, and I've seen enough discourse online to know there will never be a verdict/stance on this that will satisfy everyone. I, for one, would really like to refrain from putting all the blame on a single person - but, at least the way I see it, CC is pointing fingers. maybe not directly, but she is. Kamala, Alastair and Charles have no friends or support systems, and the only people in the narrative that defend them are themselves (ok, Cordelia does defend Alastair from Charles, but not from shitty takes about him and his "sins"). Also, sorry, but I don't like how you say "hid her sexuality for two years and sat back while Anna experienced homophobic comments" - it sounds very much judgemental. Kamala had every right to do that? The fact that she slept with Anna doesn't means she owed her something, and certainly not coming out and most probably destroying her life, or even defending her at the - again - expense of her own reputation, or more possibly safety.

As for Charles - it's a different issue here, at least imo - I fear that it'll be implied that his refusing to come out will is his main "sin", and therefore not something he can be judged for, which ironically, will be villainizing, but mostly will mean his actual sins are dismissed. This is where the scene with Cordelia feeling a pang of sympathy for him comes into play, and it worries me. I've never hated Charles for not wanting to come out, but rather for, let's see - grooming Alastair, disregarding Alastair's needs and feelings, disrespecting his mother, being a sexist prick, being low-key far-right coded "make Shadowhunters great again" etc.

As for sensitivity readers - I'm no expert, so I don't think my input is worth much. From what I've gathered from multiple threads/discussions on twitter, tho it is probably consulted/approved by the publisher, many authors push for that - and authors less famous and "powerful" than her. I'm not a hater, but seeing fandoms' opinions on much of her rep, I think she could do better. Because if she does have sensitivity readers, then they don't seem to be doing a great job - maybe they're friends who don't wanna hurt her feelings? Or maybe she thinks a gay guy's feedback will be enough for any queer content - which, judging by the opinions I've seen from the fans, doesn't seem to be true.

Again, these are mostly my thoughts and I'm more than open to reading other opinions, because *sigh* I really don't know how to handle this.

Bottom line - I really really don't want to be hating on the characters in general, playing God in regards to judging the struggles of minorities, or even criticising the characters too harshly for being human, flawed etc. What my main issue is is how CC handles those complex and heavy topics.

I hope I make sense and this answer satisfies you somehow - I also hope someone better equipped to answer might wanna join this conversation.

* I desperately need a reread of TLH before I engage in any more conversations like this, but I didn't wanna leave you hanging. So yeah, I might be remembering things wrong. Again, let me know, I'm very much open to being corrected as well as to further discussion.

* I use she/her pronouns for Anna because that's what she uses in canon

#the last hours #tlh #alastair carstairs #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #anti charles fairchild #is this anti anna?#kamala joshi #ariadne bridgestock #chain of iron #chain of gold #spilling the tea

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dean-walker · 1 year ago

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It almost felt like a relief to get that off his chest, since he hadn't told a single person in the past seven years about it. If anyone deserved to know, it was Andrew. He had been Dean's closest friend since moving here and there was nobody that he trusted more to know the truth. He had never pushed Dean to talk about things he didn't feel comfortable with, and somehow that always made him feel even worse about holding back. He stayed silent for several moments, fully anticipating that Andrew was going to blame him the same way he blamed himself, but he didn't. "No, that's not-" he said before stopping when he instructed him to just listen. Dean just avoided his gaze and looked down as he spoke at first, afraid that he'd start crying if he could see the look on Andrew's face right now. But he was forced to look up when his friend's hand cupped the side of his face. He wanted to believe Andrew, of course he did. He didn't want to believe that everything had been his own fault but he couldn't shake it. Tears welled up in his eyes but it was obvious he was trying not to, "It should've been me" he spoke in almost a whisper, his voice breaking. Dean wasn't someone who showed how he was feeling on his face; No matter how bad things were, he threw on a grin and a stupid joke and moved on, but it was like all of the flood gates had opened and every ounce of pain that he felt was brought to the surface. "I thought I could come here and forget about it but I can't- I see him every time I get in a car, I can hear his voice, I can't get away from it. And you can tell me it's not my fault all you want, I don't believe you" he shook his head, "He was only on the roads because of me that night, that's on me, nothing can undo that" he finished his sentence, wiping under his eyes before looking down again. "You don't have to think that's my fault, but I do" he said with a sad shrug before looking back at Andrew again. "And then I meet you and god- you're just like him. I mean you're so... good. Everyone loves you, and they should- why wouldn't they? You're so fucking nice and you're smart and you're patient and I'm scared all the time that I'm going to do something stupid and ruin your life too. Shane deserved more than me- and so do you" he admitted, a thought that had been sitting prominently in the back of his mind ever since he'd met his best friend. "I want to be better.. for you, for him, but I don't think I can- I break everything and everyone, it's like I can't stop making the wrong choices and I'm just tired" he said, before looking away and saying, "I think everyone's lives would've been better if I had died in his place.. I was the one drinking that night, it really.. it should've been me"

When Dean pushed his hand from his shoulder, Andrew tried not to take it as an insult. There were demons haunting him and a part of him had always known that. Things had been left unspoken between them, topics not touched or avoided. Dean knew a lot about his family situation, but that wasn't hard because they were all in Easthaven. Dean was on his own, who knew what can of worms he would open if he approached the topic. When he finally did start to explain however, Andrew remained silent, watching him from his seat, hands on the table, his thumb running on the edge of the surface. The mention that he didn't only have a sister but a brother too didn't surprise him as much anymore. He'd kept both quiet, he just didn't know the reason for it. When silence fell from Dean's lips, so it did from Andrew, wanting him to move at his own pace. Clearly it was a hard topic to breach, so he would be patient. The moment he started talking about a house party, he already knew that there would be no simple family feud story and he could already feel his chest begin to tighten. The more he spoke, the more his gut feeling was confirmed and he closed his eyes when he mentioned his brother had died on impact of the crash. He couldn't imagine not being able to go to a funeral of one of his brothers, and so he couldn't even start to think of how Dean could have felt. He had believed the story to end then and there, but it didn't. Eyes opened as he watched Dean continue about his mother, brows slightly furrowed. His expression remained the same at the news that his mother found her death at the bottom of a bottle. For Dean and Logan to both having to go on without a mother and brother felt out of this world, the faces of his mother and older brother coming forward in his mind to instil the same feeling of dread Dean must've felt losing them. He remained silent with Dean's final words, still processing the entirety of what he just confessed until he furrowed his brows. "You're wrong for blaming yourself, Dean." He finally spoke as he stood up from his seat and closed the distance between them. "Listen to me. Don't speak, just listen." He firmly told him, knowing that otherwise he would just interject. "You were right in calling your brother that night. It was the responsible thing to do, and sometimes accidents happen. You are not to blame that he lost control of the car. You did not mean for it to happen. Some things are out of our control." Andrew spoke, his hand not taking its place on his shoulder again, but instead on the side of his face to make him look at him. "We cannot begin to imagine what it feels like for a mother to lose her child, and I am sure she tried her hardest for you and your sister, but that was her battle to fight, not yours. The fact that you were plagued with the thought you brought their safety into harms way proves just what a good man you are, Dean." He gave his neck a small squeeze, alongside a genuine smile. "When am I not brutally honest?"

#andrew #tw car accident #tw suicidal thoughts #tw ptsd #tw grief #tw death

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kris-p-banana-bread · 4 years ago

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Here DOAFP fandom, have some organic, locally-sourced, home-grown pain. This is basically just me, a scarred older sibling, projecting on Bobby, another scarred older sibling. I really reached into my post-loss psyche for this, so I hope you enjoy the headcanons and meta (AKA I hope you shed at least one tear).

It won’t let me link it here so the post that inspired this is under the read more at the bottom ✨

- When I first watched doafp, I couldn't understand Elena's aversion to Sam becoming a prominent figure in her mom's and her life. Now I understand it almost too perfectly. There was never supposed to be someone after Robert. He and Gabi were deeply in love and happy. Robert was it; he was the first and true love of Gabi's life. Sam showing up probably felt like a huge and utterly disrespectful slap in the face of Robert's memory, because he wasn't even supposed to be there. I don't know if that's as eloquent as I wish it was, or if it makes sense, and it probably sounds really mean to Sam, but it's not even really about him. It was always supposed to be Robert; Sam hasn’t earned the right to be apart of or associated with her family

- After Robert dies, Gabi and Bobby make it a habit to find and keep photos and recordings/videos of Robert, even if the latter only has him saying one sentence. They won't make Elena join them for the search, but after they find some of those old audios of Robert, they'll sometimes play them back for little Elena

- Bobby put up the keep out sign (I credit this to a few other blogs for discussing this tho) because that's where he would cry sometimes. He actually used to be pretty close with Elena, but after he put up that sign and started distancing himself from them a bit so they wouldn't see the times he cracked, he got a little more short and jaded with her. It's that, plus just growing into a teenager and stuff. And I'm not saying that he and Elena have a bad relationship, but he's become more snappy and has more walls up than he used to

- Sometimes Elena feels bad because she doesn't always remember her dad's voice. She was pretty young when he died, so even though she recalls it a bit, and the recordings help, it's been a while since she's talked to him in person, so of course she doesn't quite remember what it's like to actually talk to Robert and she's forgotten some of his mannerisms. She likes to think she's all done (she marked the stages down in her grief journal after all) but grief isn't linear or all that rational, so it hits her hard sometimes

- I keep reading as an action close to my heart because that's a strong bond me and my mom shared. She would rec books to me, and we would joke and talk about them, or she would hint to some future event and then refuse to tell me until I caught up to that part. So Elena and Bobby do something similar in their grief. Elena has writing and words, because that's something Robert loved if I remember correctly (but if I’m not and that’s not canon, then I now declare it so) and Bobby has tennis. But besides tennis (I sent a couple anons to @freshlybakedfandoms about it but I'm not sure where she went) Bobby also was taught to play guitar by Robert (I liken it to Devi Vishwakumar and her harp) so when he misses his dad or is just sad, he'll take out his dad's old acoustic and strum

- (This next one is something I also think a lot about so this is pretty much 98% projection) Bobby thinks sometimes about the fact that he was never able to come out to his dad. He hadn't really started growing into that part of himself yet, and he never got to show it to his father. He wonders what he would have thought of him. Would he be angry? Would he dismiss him and say it was just a phase? Bobby didn't think so, but a little part of him insisted that you could never be too sure. After he comes out, Gabi and Cami assure him that Robert would've been so proud of him and would've loved him regardless (Since we know virtually nothing about him, I maintain that Robert was one of those dads who teases their kid relentlessly about their crushes and I think he would've done that with Bobby and eventually Elena)

- When Elena's quince rolls around (if she chooses to have one of course), Sam dances with her during the father-daughter dance. A part of her still hurts, still aches and wishes that Robert were dancing with her too; still knows on some fundamental level that he and Gabi had planned for this day, but he had simply never made it. But she's known Sam long enough that she feels comfortable here. Nobody can replace Robert, but Sam is her family, and it feels right like this.

- I might do some more research and deliberate, but for the moment I'm saying that Robert had cancer, I’m thinking along the lines of colon. My mom was terminal, but idk if I should make Robert terminal? Maybe towards the end. Or maybe he was diagnosed as incurable early on but Gabi kept it from the kids because, tbh, being told your parent is balancing on that kind of edge is traumatic for them. So anyways, I’m going on that assumption for this last point, and I’ll see if I can recover some of my old knowledge and talk about technical stuff later if anybody would like to hear it

- Elena and Bobby were both pretty young. Bobby understood about PET scans and tests somewhat, and knew generally what different answers from doctors meant. Elena mainly just understood what was happening by reading her parents' and brother's expressions when getting lab results in from the doctor. They both remember on some level what it was like when Gabi would leave the kids with Cami and take Robert out to the car (later she would have to help him) and they would all feel like they were holding their breath until they got back and confirmed that everything was ok (and later, the little shocks of fear when the answers were no longer as positive and there was more apprehension and risks. After all, cancer doesn’t deal in absolutes)

- Bobby can still remember Robert when he had to stop walking around a lot. He still remembers the phone call that Cami got from his mom, saying that something had gone wrong, and if this last treatment didn’t work, he wouldn’t have much time before he passed. Still remembers Cami rushing into a room when she got that call, and trying to hide what was happening until Gabi could get home and explain it; but Bobby was a sharp kid believe it or not. He heard about the treatment, heard Cami crying. He still had hope... but when Robert came home in a gurney, when he could barely stay awake sometimes, when his voice was quiet and his skin was a little jaundiced, Bobby felt incredibly empty. But Robert always had a smile for his wife and his beautiful kids, even if it was small and very tired, his eyes still crinkled the same. He always had a smile; right up until they had to say goodnight and get some sleep one night. And then... he passed.

- After he passed, the Cañero-Reeds needed help, and a lot of Gabi’s coworkers would bring food or materials if they were running low. Cami and Danielle would babysit and would distract the kids when Gabi needed a good cry.

- Like you’d imagine, and because of what is sort of implied in canon and in my own head, the kids dealt with it in different ways. Bobby put up that sign, and withdrew. He wasn’t awful, but his patience with certain people got a bit shorter and he was a bit quieter. And he was a really good helper when he had the energy and he cared deeply, but he would sometimes get physically and emotionally exhausted after helping Gabi/Elena/Cami/anybody else with something and would go into his room or mentally tap out to recharge. He took comfort in things that seemed natural and that he sometimes took for granted before, like video games and skateboarding (hehe bobby skateboards. Anybody second me on this?) and clothes etc... and other stuff. A lot of materialistic things or experiences that he would skip out on before. But they bring normalcy back to his life now so he loves them for that.

- Bobby doesn’t wanna think about big themes or anything anymore, which I can’t remember but I think it was Vi (freshlybakedfandoms, again, idk where she is and I hope she’s ok) who said he was a math and science person and I think that as much as that could transfer over to those subjects as well, it’s much harder to avoid existential and emotional themes in English and History class and Bobby doesn’t like it as much as Elena does for that reason. He had to live with the back and forth of his dad’s treatments and tests, so math and science is comforting because it’s more concrete (There could be a million arguments for why he would distrust math and science because of his dad’s passing though, I realize) Ultimately, though, it reminds him of Robert too much.

- On the other hand, after a period of shock and confusion, Elena threw herself into new things. First it was a grief journal, to make sure she was going through the motions. Then she read a lot, and when she felt too alone or like she wasn’t doing enough, like she was stagnant, she’d just find something to focus and persevere on again. That feels like her personality type to me; something is wrong so let’s fix it right away. But that could also transfer sort of negatively into “Something feels off or I’m very sad, let’s get this thing done and be productive so we can put off having to confront that but at least we get work out of it” but I could be entirely wrong (this is based off some of my family members and how they dealt with the loss.) And Elena throws herself into history and english because her dad loved it, and she wants to remember more of him. Because she believes words have power and history is a lesson and that’s incredibly interesting for her

#bear talks #doafp #robert cañero reed #bobby cañero reed #gabi cañero reed #elena cañero reed #camila doafp #sam faber #fun times #sorry?#I can write a cute fluffy fic to make up for it #i cri #also sorry if I made these a bit too much about bobby #I just relate to him as the older sibling #I added some more so if it got out of hand I’m sorry #tell me and I can make it neater #my meticulousness might just make myself do that on my own tho

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sofreddie · 4 years ago

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Sam's Revenge (Part 4)

Characters: Sam x Ruby, Crowley, Rowena, Others mentioned

Warnings: NONCON/RAPE, Multiple Character Deaths, Graphic Violence, Blood, Gore, Torture, Dark!Sam

Word Count: 1,509

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

PART 3

"Sam, are you sure you're ready for this?" Ruby asked him for the umpteenth time as they were preparing to head to Crowley's lair. Locating them wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. It was the preparations to take them down that hindered him the most. But now, a year in the making, he was strong enough to kill demons - several at once - and he finally had a weapon against Rowena.

He was more than ready.

"Are you?" he asked as he packed a bag with needed items.

Ruby chewed on her lip in thought as her mind swam with her conversations with the King of Hell.

"I want you to go back to Sam," Crowley explained to the petite brunette, "Stay by his side, guide him, let him come to me. Meanwhile, you will keep me informed of your progress and every step your Winchester takes. Understood?"

"You'll protect me?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course," Crowley smiled, "So long as you do your part."

The knot in her stomach wouldn't let up. She had betrayed Sam, had told Crowley everything they did, the progress Sam made, everything she knew. But now she second-guessed the plan. She actually cared about the giant of a man and betraying him - especially like this - felt wrong.

"Sam," she spoke up, stopping Sam with a hand on his arm, "Maybe this isn't such a good idea," she tried to plead with him. Maybe they could just go off and live life together, doing whatever they wanted.

She was taken back by the sinister grin that spread across his lips, "Why, Ruby? Because it's a trap?"

She gasped, wondering how the hell he had figured it out. She knew she was careful and covered her tracks.

"I've discovered a few tricks you don't know about," Sam shrugged. Ruby swallowed hard, taking a careful step backwards from Sam, but he met each of her steps with one forward, "You really thought I didn't know you were going behind my back?" he scoffed, "Once a lying whore, always a lying whore."

Ruby stood dumbfounded for minute, her jaw going slack as Sam's eyes flashed as black as her own. She turned to run, but Sam was faster. His arms wrapped around her from behind, one hand clamping over her mouth as he slammed her against the motel room wall.

"Sam," she begged, his grip painful.

Sam groaned, rutting himself against her backside as he held her forcefully against the wall. In a swift movement, he had her bare from the waist down, her pants trapping her legs together at her ankles. He quickly spun her around to face him, his arms lifting her up as his foot stood on her clothes, essentially removing them and freeing her legs.

Before she could utter a protest, Sam released himself from his jeans and thrust fully inside her, starting a punishing pace. Her back and hips slammed against the wall hard enough for her to hear the plaster crack as Sam brutally fucked her. She could feel him rapidly approaching his climax.

Suddenly he reached between them, a hand wrapping tightly around her throat as he continued rapidly thrusting in and out of her.

"Thanks for the help, Baby," Sam spoke with black eyes as he squeezed Ruby's throat, "But I don't need you anymore."

"S-Sam," she attempted to gasp, her voice coming out a squeak as she struggled to maintain consciousness, "No, please-"

He pulled a switchblade out of nowhere, slitting the side of her neck open before he brought his lips to the wound, drinking down her blood in thirsty gulps. Her vision blackened as she lost consciousness. Sam's grunting and slurping the last thing she heard as she felt him cum.

Sam left the motel room and Ruby's dead and drained body behind as he climbed in his car. For over a year he plotted and fretted and planned to get to this point. The point where he'd get his revenge on Crowley and Rowena.

It was a strange thing. With his soul gone, he couldn't feel any sort of way about exacting revenge or what led him to it. It was something to do, a challenge. Sam had been without a soul so long that his short-lived time with a soul seemed more an emotional sabbatical, like a breakdown. But now, he was himself again. Even better…John wasn't around to dictate what he could or couldn't do.

Too bad The Way was in crumbles. He would've made a fine leader. Certainly better than Dean. The thought of his brother made him twitch with barely controlled rage.

Dean, his brother, who swore to always stand by him. Dean, the leader of The Way, who ostracized him. Dean should have stood up to the others. Instead he sold him out. Gave him up for The Way, for other hunters, for Y/N.

Sam had his own plans for Y/N. He did have her first, after all. They all had their own comeuppances and Sam had decided he would deliver it to them, after he dealt with Crowley and Rowena of course.

Sam had begun with a stealthy entrance. The first few demons he took down one by one, sneaking up behind them and puncturing their necks, dragging them off with a hand over their mouth to silence them as he drank down their blood. With each new demon he felt his power strengthening beyond anything he'd felt before.

As he entered the building proper, he was stopped by five demons in the main hall, poised for a fight. Sam smirked, stretching his neck side to side and shaking out his shoulders. As the demon in the front began to move forward, he was suddenly frozen to the spot, along with his demonic comrades.

Sam close his eyes with a hum and the demons shook before an orange light sparked within each of them. Their lifeless meatsuits dropped to the ground as one. Sam sighed in satisfaction, carefully and quietly stepping over the bodies as he continued his search for his prey.

Eventually, Sam stood before the doors to the throne room. A trail of dozens of bodies lay scattered throughout the building, Sam's clothes and mouth covered in blood, his eyes solid onyx.

He grinned, kicking open the large wooden doors with flair, striding into the so-called 'throne room'. Crowley sat on his chair, Rowena stood at his side. They appeared calm and unfazed by Sam's appearance.

"Samuel," Crowley crooned, "If you wished to see me, you could have just knocked. You didn't have to kill all my bloody demons."

"Not here to talk, Crowley," Sam stated coldly, his gaze flickering between the pair as he stood his ground.

"Then why are you here?"

"You two helped John remove my soul," he spoke calmly, in stark contrast to the threat of his words, "Everything that followed, well I figure that's all on you two."

"Oh," Crowley started laughing, "A-and I suppose you're here to what? Get revenge?" He laughed harder and Sam scowled.

Rowena took the chance to cast a spell in attempt to incapacitate Sam. But for some reason her spell wasn't working. She tried again and again, starting to panic as Sam grinned. Crowley too grew concerned as her magic abilities seemed to fail her.

"What have you done?" she raged at Sam.

"Siphoning spell," he shrugged, "Now your power is mine."

Sam cast his own spell at Rowena, the force of it knocking her back against the stone wall with a sickening crack. She slumped to the floor, blood streaking down the wall. Before Crowley could move, Sam had him pinned to the chair with his powers. Crowley watched on in horror as Sam approached Rowena, kneeling down to be closer to her slumped form.

"You're dying," Sam stated as he watched her squirm and glare. He raised a hand, hovering it over her body as he ran over her figure. Several spots on her body lit up, "Should make sure it stays that way," he smiled, almost sweetly, his dimples prominent as he pulled out a blade and began cutting and digging in the illuminated spots. One after the other, Sam dug out and discarded the small life-rejuvenating sashays.

Tears sprung from her eyes as Rowena realized this was it for her. Sam casually lifted the blade, slicing quickly across her throat. He watched her momentarily as she struggled to clutch her throat and stop the bleeding. She faded quickly, however, and Sam sighed. He was hoping to feel a bit more satisfaction from the kill. But, to be honest, he couldn't really feel anything.

He wiped the blade off on her shimmering gown before tucking it back in his pocket and moving back toward the magically restrained King.

"Don't you worry, Crowley. I wouldn't do that to you," Sam promised as he leaned on the arm of the chair to get close and personal with the demon, letting his eyes return to normal, "I have different plans for you."

PART 5

Forevers:

@winchesterprincessbride

@iamcmims

@roxyspearing

@reigningqueenofwords

@mogaruke

@ellen-reincarnated1967

@speakinvain

@atc74

@sterekloveaffairs

@mrs-meghan-winchester

@chook007

@growningupgeek

@goldenolaf25

@esoltis280

@hobby27

@sis-tafics

@arryn-nyxx

@x-waywardaf-x

@shann-the-artist-moon

@sandlee44

@lucywinchester2000

@emoryhemsworth

@time-travel-bouqet

@buckysbrat

@calaofnoldor

@spnbaby-67

@miraclesoflove

@lyarr24

Sam's Revenge:

@allethalove @squirrelnotsam

@salt-n-burn-em-all

@idreamofdeanie

#sam's revenge #sam winchester #supernatural #spn #dark!series #dark!fic #dark!sam #tw: noncon #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: gore

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