#i put her in a nice dark ventilated place As Instructed

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oh im so Stoked - i got myself a little home hyacinth Kit! she's growing! look at her! Wow!

[toxictemplar]

The Church of a Loving God - Eaters of the Dead

Genre: Horror

Word Count: 5,558

Synopsis: In the grim darkness of the far future, countless billions toil and suffer to keep the wheels of the imperial war machine turning. The God Emperor demands blind obedience and the only reward is a brutal death. In the dark corners of this world, among the teeming masses of humanity, Jocasta Theta will find something more; a life worth living, and a god worth believing in.

Content Notes: Cannibalism, Police Brutality

Author's Note: A massive thank you to daddyfuckinlonglegs for all their help and advice, and for motivating me to get back into writing. Jocasta's story will continue in chapter two, 'Love in a Dark Millennium'!

AO3 Link: The Church of a Loving God

The day started with bells. Jocasta opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling of the bunk house, counting the chimes. Three, four, five, then a raspy, mechanical voice crackled out from the vox caster.

“Theta shift, wake up. Theta shift, wake up. You have one hour before your work begins. Thought for the day; only in death is duty's debt repaid.”

There was a short hiss of static as the vox switched off. Jocasta lay in her bunk for a moment and tried not to think about the crushing heat. The ventilation system for her hab-block had been broken for a month; every night she prayed to the Emperor to send one of his red priests to fix it, and every morning she woke up drenched in sweat. No point dwelling on it though.

She got up and pulled her overalls out from under the bed. Her tiny section of the room was separated from the rest by a threadbare blanket hanging from a string, and as she got dressed she could hear the rustling of nineteen other people doing the same. They were all theta shift, but none of them were part of her work gang. She'd barely spoken to any of them in the three years she'd lived here.

Still, she thought as she pulled the blanket aside, there was no reason to be unfriendly. She gave a smile and a nod to each of them as she made her way to the door. Some of them smiled back. Some of them didn't. All of them looked tired.

The door was jammed, like it had been every morning since the ventilation broke, but it swung open after a few sharp kicks. Jocasta breathed deep as she stepped out into the cavernous, and relatively cool, expanse of transit tunnel forty-one. It was a vast, diagonal shaft formed of buttressed rockcrete walls lined with dozens of metal walkways, all of them bustling with people heading to, or from, their allocated workplace. The steeply sloping floor of the tunnel was covered by rails, along which cargo pallets were constantly moving, and the ceiling was festooned with pipes, cables, and dim, flickering glow-globes which cast the hubbub below in shades of orange and amber.

Jocasta was vaguely aware that there was a universe outside the tunnel – the mountainous hive-city of Gloriana Aeterna stretching up for miles above her, a planet outside, and thousands of planets beyond – but she would never see them. This tunnel, and the chambers branched off from it, had been her whole world since the day she was born. Her little corner of the imperium.

As she made her way down the walkway she scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Most days that search was fruitless, but this was a lucky day. Through the throngs of shuffling figures she spotted an unruly shock of blonde hair, and with a little pushing and shoving she got close enough to recognise the pale, lanky man it was attached to. Exactly who she'd been hoping to see. Surreptitiously she spat on her hand and dragged it through her short red hair; she'd once seen a pict-capture of noblewomen from the upper hive, all of them beautiful and all of them with their hair slicked back.

“Good morning Seth!” She fell into step beside her work mate, who looked down at her with a weary smile that made her heart beat a little quicker. “I'm so glad I caught you, did you hear what happened on sigma shift? Katra, from the market, told me all about it. Apparently the coreward grinder threw a gear just as the shift was ending, which isn't all that strange, happens all the time, but after the technomats pushed it back in they still couldn't get the whole thing spinning. So one of them says 'there must be something stuck in there, we'll just take the casing off and find it'. So then they did, and they saw what was jamming it, and guess what it was? Go on, guess! I'll give you three tries.”

Seth's brow furrowed. He looked up at the roof of the tunnel, his lips moving silently, then looked back down at Jocasta. “Okay, first guess... Was it a sump rat?”

Her mouth fell open. “You knew? That's not fair! You can't pretend to guess if you already knew!”

“I didn't know,” Seth said with a grin, “I just figured it out. There's not many things big enough to jam the grinder but small enough to come up through the pipes. Also I hear rats down there all the time.”

“Ooh, you're such a liar! You couldn't just 'figure that out'. You know I thought I could trust you, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'll have to find a new friend who doesn't try to cheat me.” She tried to look serious, but Seth put on such an exaggerated show of remorse that she couldn't help smiling.

“You really can't trust me any more? After everything we've been through? After everything I've done for you?”

She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “And what exactly have you done for me?”

“Well...” He leaned down until their heads were practically touching and lowered his voice to a whisper. Jocasta could hear her heart thumping in her chest. “...how about scrounging up something to eat on our break?. One of my bunk mates managed to find some meat. Some unprocessed meat. And since he owed me a favour, I got us a slice to share.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you joking?” she whispered. “You have to tell me if you're joking, you can't just say something like that and not mean it. And what do you mean he found it, anyway? Do you know what it came from? He didn't steal it, did he? Because if he stole it-”

A deafening burst of trumpets rang out from the vox pylons above them. As one, every worker stopped in their tracks. A moment later the cargo pallets below them shuddered to a halt. Silence, heavy and oppressive, settled over the tunnel. Jocasta stole a glance at Seth; he'd already closed his eyes and crossed his hands over his heart in the shape of the holy aquila. She shuffled a little closer to him and did the same.

“Citizens of Gloriana Aeterna.��� The deep, sonorous voice came from every vox, in every direction. “Hear me, and give thanks. The God Emperor protects you, his faithful servants, for as long as you dedicate your lives and deaths to him. Through the might of his armies, he protects you. Through the swift justice of his arbites, he protects you. Through the diligence of his administrators, he protects you...”

The familiar litany washed over Jocasta. She's heard it so many times she could recite it backwards. Real meat, though... That was a special kind of gift. Silently, in her heart, she gave thanks for it.

***

It took another half an hour to descend to the ration processing plant. Down here the walls of the tunnel were studded with loading bays and access ports, and the air was thick with industrial smog. The two of them made their way through the murk, moving slowly and cautiously over corroded walkways and down rickety ladders, until they reached the entrance hatch for loading bay seven. Seth started coughing. He'd been doing that a lot recently.

Inside, the noise in the low-ceiling bay was almost painfully loud. Workers from Sigma shift were rushing to and fro, shouting instruction to each other as they tried to unload the last of their shipments. Enforcers holding crackling shock mauls and suppression shields prowled between them, reflective visors covering their faces. Heavy carts trundled over the metal floor grates with their axles squealing, and over it all was the roar of the spinning grinders at the far end of the bay.

The men and women of theta shift were huddled against one wall, staying out of the way until their time came, but between them and the access hatch was an armoured security booth. Jocasta walked up to the mesh grill at the front of the booth and smiled at the grim-faced watchman behind it.

“Jocasta Theta, reporting for shift.”

The man grunted and peered down at his data-slate until he found her name, then pressed his thumb against the screen. He reached down under the desk to pull out two rectangular metal tins, each the size of Jocasta's palm, and slid them through the gap at the bottom of the grill.

“Two ration packs, corpse-starch. No eating between breaks. No hoarding. No trading. Return the tins at the end of your shift. Do you understand?”

The enforcer had said the same words to her every morning for the last three years, and she'd given the same response. “Yes sir, I understand. May the Emperor protect you.”

“And you. Move along.”

Jocasta put her rations in her pocket and went to join the rest of her shift, leaving Seth to report in behind her. She knew almost all of her co-workers by name, even if she hadn't had a chance to get to know most of them, but today there was an unfamiliar face. A man... No, a boy, probably on his first work assignment. Maybe four of five years younger than her? Not even old enough to shave. He looked every bit as scared as Jocasta had been when she started at the plant, and she decided that he needed a friend.

“Hey there kid, welcome to loading bay seven! You're new, aren't you? Please say you're new, if you've been here for a while I'll be so embarrassed. My name's Jocasta. What's yours?”

“Uh...” The boy hesitated, looking down at the floor. “My name is Lansan. It's nice to meet you.” His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him over the noise.

“Well it's very nice to meet you too, Lansan. I guess this is the first place you've worked? Well don't worry about that, we'll show you the ropes in no time. Which section are you assigned to?”

“Um, I think they said I'd be unloading the pallets?”

Jocasta kept smiling, but her heart sank. “Oh, so you'll be working with me! That's good. Did they say who you're replacing?” She already knew the answer.

“Yes, they said the last person got reallocated to a manufactorum on the upper levels. His name was Dillan?”

“Gillan. His name was Gillan.” Jocasta struggled to keep her voice level. Gillan had been nearly forty, with a limp he couldn't hide any more. No manufactorum would have taken him.

She tried to think of something to say, but before she had a chance the bell rang to signal the shift change. The exhausted workers of sigma shift put down their tools and started filing towards the exit, and theta shift moved quickly to take their place. Jocasta walked towards the wide metal shutter on the tunnel side wall, still thinking about Gillan, wishing Lansan wasn't following quite so close behind her. She wanted time to think, but the shutters were already opening to accept the first delivery of the day. She'd just have to wait until the shift was over.

“Alright Lansan, this is the start of the chain. The cargo comes in through here, we jump onto the pallet, then we throw it over so it can be loaded onto the carts. After that it goes through the grinders and onto second stage processing, but you don't need to worry about that bit. Do you have a handkerchief? That's good, tie it around your face. It'll help with the smell. Grab yourself some gloves from the rack, try and get a pair without any holes in them. Let's see... You know how to lift, right? Knees bent, back straight?”

The boy nodded, pulling his gloves on, and she did the same. With a familiar shriek of metal on metal a wide platform rolled into view down the tunnel and pivoted into the loading bay, coming to a halt a couple of feet away from the edge of the floor. Lansan went pale as the smell hit them; the platform was piled high with corpses, collected from all the middle and lower levels of the city. Jocasta saw his expression and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Try to think of it as cargo, rather than people. The city needs to eat. Just be careful when you jump across, you don't want to fall into the pipes.”

He nodded slowly, but she could see his hands trembling. There was nothing more she could do for him except lead by example, so she jumped across to the platform and started pulling a body off the top of the pile. Lansan joined her, gingerly picking up the corpse by the shoulders as Jocasta lifted its ankles. Under her direction they carried it to the edge of the pallet, gave it a couple of swings, then threw it across the gap to where a couple of carters were waiting to load it.

“So, Lansan, how far up do you live?” She was hoping to take his mind off the task at hand, if only so he'd stop being so squeamish.

“Um, about forty minutes walk? We're a couple of levels down from the market.”

“You're not that far above me then! Oh, and you said 'we', does that mean you're still living with your family?” The boy just nodded. “You're lucky. My parents got moved to tunnel thirty-six just after I started working here. Haven't seen them for years.”

“I'm sorry, that must be hard. Not knowing...” He paused for a moment to find his footing as they picked up a particularly heavy body. “Not even knowing if they're still alive, I mean.”

Jocasta found herself lost for words for a moment, and almost slipped on a bloated hand. She wanted to believe the kid didn't mean any harm, but surely he was old enough to know better? Either way, there was only way to respond. “Well if they're dead, I'm sure they died serving the Emperor. You can't ask for anything more than that.” She had to force the words out. You never knew who was listening.

“Oh, yes, of course. I didn't mean... I was just thinking, I don't know what I'd do if my parents got reassigned. I guess they'd move me to a smaller bunk, but I've never lived alone before. Did you ever... Urgh!”

The boy recoiled and fell backwards as the arm he was holding came away from the shoulder with a wet slurping sound. Jocasta dropped her end of the body, leaving it on the edge of the platform, and walked quickly over to him.

“Listen, Lansan,” she whispered as she helped him up. “I need you to be a little tougher, okay? The guards here don't care that you're young, or that it's your first day. If they don't think you can work, you'll get moved somewhere else. Somewhere worse, on the lower levels. Your parents wouldn't want that for you, so just...”

Too late, she saw his gaze move down to the corpse behind her. By the time she turned round it was already slipping over the side of the platform, down into the pipes, and she could only stand there as it disappeared from view. A moment later there was a crash, then a distant, wet thud. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew what was coming.

“Worker!” The shout cut through the noise of the loading bay. Jocasta opened her eyes again and fixed her gaze on the floor; she could hear the heavy footsteps of the enforcer walking towards her. A quick glance at Lansan confirmed he was keeping his head down as well. At least his parents had taught him that much.

“Wasting the city's food is a crime. Which one of you is responsible?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lansan opening his mouth, but she was quicker. “It was me, sir. I wasn't paying attention. I'm very sorry, it won't happen again, I...”

“Step off the platform.” The man sounded more bored than angry. Jocasta jumped across to the loading bay and turned to face him, making sure not to look him in the visor. “You have your rations for the day?” She nodded. “Give me one of them.” She fished the tin out of her pocket and the man snatched it out of her hand. He opened it, checked the contents, and dropped it into a pouch on his belt.

It was a lighter punishment than she'd expected. She let herself relax a little. “Thank you sir. Permission to get back to-”

Without warning the enforcer swung his shock maul into Jocasta's stomach. It wasn't a hard hit. It didn't need to be. Her world went dark, then brilliant white flashes danced across her vision. All she could hear was a snapping, crunching sound that seemed to come from every direction at once.

It only lasted for a moment, and when her vision returned she was lying on the ground at the enforcer's feet. She tried to stop herself trembling, but she couldn't. Across the bay she could see Seth staring at her. He looked scared.

The man leaned down to speak to her, his boot inches away from her face. “You're going to go down to the pipes during the first break and retrieve that corpse. You will not be late. You will not return empty-handed. Do you understand?” She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out but a dry wheeze. He seemed to take that as confirmation. “Get back to work then. No more mistakes.”

As he walked away Jocasta, still shaking, got back on her feet. The hot, raw pain was starting to spread through her stomach, and she knew from experience it was going to get worse before it got better. It would make the next few hours of work agonizing. And then the pipes... People died down there. She could die down there. All because she'd been too busy trying to help the new kid...

“Um... Jocasta?”

She turned to look at Lansan. There were tears on his cheeks. He looked ashamed.

“I can help, if you want. I can go down to the pipes with you.”

For an awful moment, she thought about saying yes. Maybe the two of them would have a better chance of getting out alive. Or maybe she could run faster than him... She put the idea out of her mind. “Thanks, but I'll be fine.” Her voice was still little more than a croak. “It was only a small one, and it's already missing an arm. I can carry it just fine by myself.”

“But, maybe, I could protect you? Kind of, watch your back?”

Jocasta gave the boy the best smile she could manage. “The Emperor protects.”

***

The area under the ration processing plant was a tangled web of tunnels, pipes, junctions and crawl spaces. Bundles of cables wove through narrow corridors, linking together rusted, humming machines that only the red priests truly understood. Everywhere there was the dripping of oil, grease and other, more organic fluids from the plant above. The lights were so faint that they were little more than stars to navigate by, if they worked at all. The only people who came down here were maintenance teams, and they never made the descent without armed guards. The rats were always watching and always hungry.

Jocasta had no guards, and no weapons except a wrench that Seth had slipped into her pocket as he'd wished her good luck. The enforcers had let her take a lantern at least. The weak, yellow light only reached a few paces away from her. Beyond that there was darkness.

She'd been slow and careful at first, trying to stay quiet, freezing every time she heard something skittering through the gloom, but the morning break was only half an hour long and she knew how much worse things would be if she was late. As she went deeper into the maze she started to move faster, gripping the wrench tightly and hoping her reactions would be quick enough if something jumped out at her.

She walked through one dank, humid corridor after another, rushing down steep ramps and squeezing through air ducts, doubling back on herself whenever she reached a dead end or locked hatch. After a while her pace slowed. Every time she passed a turning she paused, trying to picture where she was in relation to the loading by above her, before choosing a path and continuing.

Eventually she reached a junction and had to stop. There was an opening leading down to her left, but surely the wall of the transit tunnel should be there? And if it wasn't, did that mean she was farther away from it than she'd thought, or had she gone so low that she was underneath it? How long had it been since the break started? She didn't have a chrono. Maybe it had been ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Maybe she'd never find the body, or the rats would find her first. She could hear them, scuttling through the gloom. They sounded like they were getting closer.

She leant against the wall and set the lantern down on the ground. Her hands were trembling. She tried to get her breathing under control, but she couldn't.

Gillan was dead. She knew he was. People didn't just stop working when they had a family to feed, even if they were ill. Perhaps he was just too sick or too badly injured to get to the plant, but the end result was the same. The weak didn't survive for long. Yesterday she'd teased him for the silly little moustache he'd started growing; she'd said it made him look like an old man. That was the last thing she'd said to him, and now he was gone.

Her shoulders started shaking. She wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, then squeezed hard on the metal handle of the wrench. She didn't have time to cry. Somewhere up there Seth was waiting for her. All she had to do was find the body, and then she'd find her way back to him. They'd share good food, and gossip about their shift mates, and then she could tell him how much he meant to her and hope that he felt the same...

She heard it before she saw it; the click, click, click of claws on metal. She swore under her breath. If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own head... No, there was no time for anger. Slowly, she bent down to pick up the lantern. Her hand trembled as she raised it. There were pale, milky eyes gleaming in the dark of the corridor behind her. Three, no, maybe four creatures, though she couldn't be sure. She'd seen dead sump rats before, and no two of them had the same number of eyes.

Keeping her eyes on the crawling shadows, Jocasta started to back away. One step, two steps, and then, from behind her, she heard a low hiss. Her heart jumped into her mouth. She froze, trying to work out how far away the rat behind her was; it sounded close. A few paces, maybe.

The wrench in her hand was slippery with sweat. She tried to adjust her grip. If she could turn quickly and get in a good swing... But there wouldn't just be one, would there? They never hunted alone. Running was the only option, and out of the corner of her eye she could see the side tunnel that had confused her a moment ago. She still had no idea where it went, but it didn't matter.

Jocasta bolted forwards, ducking through the doorway as a screech went up from the rats. She sprinted down the narrow corridor, leaping over gaps in the floor grating, racing around the sharp turns and sudden twists of the tunnel. The rats were close behind her but she couldn't look back. She couldn't hold the lantern steady, and it took all of her concentration just to stay on her feet in the flickering light.

She ran on, her heart pounding, desperately, frantically looking for some way of escaping her pursuers; their shrill chittering echoed from the pipes around her. Suddenly, through the enveloping gloom, she saw a metal hatch up ahead. She darted through it, slamming her weight against the door, the rusty hinges screeching as she forced it closed. From beyond she heard the rats scratching and clawing at the metal, throwing themselves against it in a frenzy... and then, the sound faded. Listening hard, she could make out the clanking of loose grating beneath their feet, the noise getting quieter and quieter as they abandoned the chase and moved on. Gasping for air, she slid down the door and sat against it.

She was alive.

As the adrenaline receded, she realised she was in a junction room larger than any she'd found before. She couldn't tell exactly how large; the light didn't reach the far wall. What she did see, lying on the metal floor surrounded by broken ceiling panels, was the corpse. For a moment she just stared at it, uncomprehending. She was lost. She'd run for her life. How could it be right in front of her?

Slowly she climbed back onto her feet, walked up to the body, and knelt down beside it. It had taken a beating during the fall, but aside from the missing arm it was still intact. Now all she needed to do was carry it back up to the surface. But that was impossible. The rats wouldn't have gone far. She couldn't outrun them with that much dead weight on her shoulders. She was going to die. Unless... Unless there was another way out of here.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than she noticed a faint, pale light from up ahead of her. It didn't look like the flame of a lantern, or the glow of the electric lights that lined the halls of the hive city. It was softer. Gentler. She stood up and started moving towards it.

As she walked forwards the air seemed to shimmer. Motes of light danced around her, swirling in a breeze that she couldn't feel. The space was larger than she'd imagined, and even as the body disappeared from view behind her she still couldn't see the far wall. As she got closer to the glow she saw it was coming from a human shape on the floor; to her surprise she realised it was another, much older corpse. She'd never seen one so decayed before.

The thing that drew her eye though, and the source of the light, was the fungus. It sprouted from every part of the body, pushing through the blackened skin in strangely shaped clusters, not just one type but a myriad of different shapes. There were varieties she'd only ever heard about, and some that were completely alien to her. Fragile looking spheres on delicate stalks, glistening jellies that had eaten deep into the remains of their host, mushrooms of every shape and size. And the colours! She'd thought that all fungi were pale grey, but these were a riot of blues, oranges, pinks and browns, all of them glowing softly in the gloom. It was beautiful.

She stepped forward, holding the lantern as close as she dared. There was a rich, warm aroma rising from the corpse, so strong that she felt light-headed. As she leaned over it she realised there was a pattern hidden in the light. Everywhere she looked, the fungi had formed itself into circles. The motif was repeated across the entire body. Circles overlapping each other, circles within circles, and in the centre of the chest three thick, conjoined circles of bright green mould. They'd grown so that each circle was linked to the other two to form a triangle.

There was something more, though. Something in the centre of the pattern that she couldn't quite make out. She leaned over the body, holding the lantern closer, straining to see what was hidden there... And then her foot slipped. Before she could think her hand jerked forwards to break her fall, and with a wet, sickening squelch it hit the mould and sank into it, the desiccated body's chest cracking and collapsing under her weight.

The smell of rot and death washed over her. She scrambled to her feet and reeled back in disgust, desperately shaking the spongy, stinking slop from her hand. It clung to her skin like glue; she couldn't bare to look at it. She dropped the lantern and pulled out her handkerchief, scrubbing at her arm frantically until it was free of the muck, and then stood there, panting, over the body.

Reluctantly, Jocasta looked at her hand. It was still streaked with grime and dotted with luminescent spores, but she'd done the best she could. The handkerchief was sodden; she threw it aside, then closed her eyes.

“God Emperor, please... Please don't let me get sick. Please show me a way back up. Please let me live, just a little longer.”

She whispered the words into the dark. There was no reply.

It wasn't until she opened her eyes and bent to pick up the lantern that she heard it. The familiar click, click, click, and then a low hiss. The rats had found their way in.

Her whole body went stiff. This was it, she realised. She didn't know where she was. There might not be another way out of this room, and even if there was she wouldn't find it before they caught up to her. All she could do was die fighting; a stupid, pointless death.

She turned and saw the rats at the edge of the lantern's light. Lumpy, misshapen creatures with bony spines and tumorous growths sprouting from their backs. She counted seven of them, each of them as big as a hound and staring at her with murderous hunger. Slowly she reached into her pocket and pulled out the wrench, then stepped forwards to meet them...

And the rats backed away.

She paused. Was this some kind of trap? Were they waiting for her to leave the light? She took another step forwards. One of the rats hissed at her, then turned and scurried into the dark. The others edged backwards.

Jocasta took a deep breath and walked forwards until the lantern's pool of light was behind her. With every step the rats retreated, some of them squeaking and scuttling to the corners of the room. It was as if they were scared. She just stared after them, dumbfounded. But then, she'd asked the Emperor for help, hadn't she? And this... this was a miracle.

For a long moment she stood there, in the dark, trying to think of any other explanation. The rats could have killed her easily. She'd heard of them attacking armed groups when they were hungry enough, and these ones had looked very hungry. Just a few minutes ago they'd been chasing her down. And now suddenly they were scared of her.

No, that wasn't right, was it? They were scared of that old corpse, or the fungus. If they weren't then the whole thing would have been eaten long ago. The rats would eat anything, animal or vegetable, no matter how rotten it was. And if it wasn't the rot, or the fungus, then what else could have stopped them if not the Emperor's protection? And now that protection was on her.

There was one way to be sure. She went back and retrieved the lantern, humming a hymn under her breath, and then picked up the sodden handkerchief. She walked across the room until she saw the last few rats prowling at the edge of the light and threw the rag at them as hard as she could. Before it had even landed the creatures scattered, shrieking in panic.

Jocasta couldn't help but laugh. This was amazing! She'd seen a real miracle, right there in front of her! The body must be some kind of holy relic, hidden down here for who knows how long, and she was the one who'd found it. She wondered if Seth would believe her. In the stories, miracles only happened to holy warriors and saints... Maybe she wouldn't tell him right away. It would be her secret, at least for now.

Sighing, she realised she had more immediate concerns. It would take time to find her way back up to the plant. At least now she wouldn't have to worry about the rats though. She went back to where the ceiling was broken, hoisted the body onto her shoulders, then set off to retrace her steps. As she left, the light in the junction room faded. The sound of her footsteps died away. All that was left was silence, and the soft glow of the fungus, and the clouds of spores that danced through the air without any wind to move them.

[juliandev0rak]

Hometown 🤠🐴

One: Hometown – what was the place they called “home” like? What were the people like? Did your OC like it there or did they leave the first chance they got?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes​

Camellia Giardini, they/them Western Venterre 14 years before the events of The Arcana

Words: 1554

Warnings: none

It’s another dusty August day on the Giardini Ranch, the heat making waves and casting a haze over the fields. The sound of cattle lowing in the distance and cicadas buzzing makes the afternoon feel sleepy and although there’s still a lot of work to do before the day is over, nobody feels much like doing it. 

Perched in a large oak tree sits Camellia, nose stuck in a book as usual. They’re far enough from the fields to avoid their family, but close enough to find their way back when it starts to get dark. Their horse Miele is grazing a few feet away, both of them enjoying a break after a morning out in the sun. At eleven years old Camellia is expected to be helping on the ranch, herding the cattle and harvesting alongside their older siblings. 

Normally, someone would have gone looking for Cam by now, with the harvest quickly approaching all hands are needed. But it had been decided that afternoon that it’s better for everyone if Cam stays out of the way during the busy season, they do more harm than good when they try to help.

Camellia can barely stay in their saddle, much less try to open and close gates or be of any use with the cattle. Even simple tasks like harvesting apples or picking vegetables are ruined by Cam’s wandering mind and Miele, who is never far from their side, who has an insatiable appetite and ends up eating more than Cam can even pick. 

Their older siblings, Cassia, Calix, Calla, and Calanthe, seem to have no problem following in their family’s footsteps, each of them seeming at home on horseback and suited to the task of farm work. Even Cam’s younger siblings, Canna, Clio, Crisanta, and Clema who is only three, manage to make themselves useful harvesting or helping Ma in the kitchen. 

It’s only Camellia who seems to have no place here, always knocking things over or forgetting to close the stable doors. 

It’s always,

 “Out of my way, Camellia!” 

“Move aside, Cam!” 

“To your left! No your other left! Camellia, what are we going to do with you!”

Everywhere they go, Cam leaves chaos in their wake. They try to be careful, to watch where they walk and to listen to instructions, but they can’t seem to do anything right. That’s why they’re sitting in a tree alone in the middle of a busy work day, it’s better this way. 

The one thing Cam seems to be good at is reading, and luckily their family home has a library that nobody else seems to care about. The book they’re currently reading is about alchemy, a topic which seems to have been a special interest of Cam’s great great grandfather Carlo who had built the house. 

The library is where Cam spends most of their free time. It’s not a huge collection, but it’s well stocked with farmer’s almanacs and books about magic, so at least they have something to read. Their family doesn’t venture into the old wing of the house much, preferring to spend their time in the kitchen or living areas which are better heated and have more ventilation. But Cam doesn’t mind the dust or the cold, they just like having a room to themself.

Bedrooms are hard to come by in the old house and Cam shares a room with both Calla and Calanthe. While Calla is nearly sixteen and the nicest of their siblings, Calanthe is thirteen and intent on making Cam’s life as difficult as possible. The rest of their siblings act similarly, teasing them for everything and exposing Cam’s every mistake to their parents. Calla is the only one who encourages Cam to study and develop their interests, the only one who tries to understand them.

Aside from reading, Cam’s biggest interest is in magic, though they tend to think of it more as a science than a supernatural force. Even at a young age, Cam knows there are some things that can’t quite be explained, and that magic is a way to look for those explanations. 

Camellia’s Ma has a bit of magic herself, able to dry clothes at the touch of a hand, heal minor wounds, and the like, but she’s never had an interest in exploring it further. When Cam had begun to show similar signs of magical talent their parents hadn’t thought much of it besides hoping it might help Cam improve at their chores. 

So Camellia has taken things into their own hands, trying to practice and hone their skills as much as possible with only the few books they can find in the library as a guide. Their siblings make fun of them for trying and failing at magic just as they do with everything else, but Cam isn’t ready to give up. 

Just yesterday they’d been practicing and had accidentally set their mother’s prized lemon tree on fire. They’d been too proud of their fire conjuring to notice that it was burning uncontrollably, and luckily Cassia had been nearby with a bucket of water. Cam had been scolded endlessly for their irresponsibility, and it had carried over to this morning when they’d accidentally let the cattle out of their gate with the flick of a hand, nearly causing a stampede.

That was when their father had decided to give Cam the next few weeks off, better to have them out of the way where they can’t cause more trouble. They’d overheard their parents talking at lunch about sending Camellia away where they could be “put to better use”. Cam had run out of the house immediately, not wanting to hear how much their family wanted to get rid of them. 

They’d jumped on their horse and made their way to the oak tree, the only place to get some peace and quiet with eight siblings always around. It’s been many hours since then and Cam’s stomach is rumbling from missing lunch, they’re considering venturing back home when they hear a voice from the distance calling their name. It’s their older sister Calla.

“Cammy, come down from the tree.” She calls, her apron is covered in flour so Cam knows she’s been sent from the kitchen to find them. 

“Why should I! Maybe I’ll live here now, everyone would like that better.” Cam says angrily, suddenly feeling like they might cry but not wanting to do it in front of their sister. 

“Oh Cam, you know Ma and Pa didn’t mean it when they said they’d send you away.” Calla frowns, the expression not looking right on her usually happy face “And if they did I’d talk sense into them.” 

“I don’t belong here, I hate cows.” Cam mutters. Calla laughs at that, not unkindly, and reaches the bottom of the tree. 

“I don’t like them much either, but there’s plenty of other things to do.” She says, “When you’re older you can do the bookkeeping, and help Ma at the market, I bet you’d be good at that! And I know Cassia and Calix hate doing it, I’m sure they'd be happy to spend more time outside.” 

“I don’t want to do the bookkeeping, I want to do magic.” Cam sighs, swinging their leg down from the branch they’re perched on.

“And you’re good at it! Maybe we can find you a teacher someday.” Calla smiles, ever the optimist. “Isn’t Aunt Angela a witch?” 

“That’s just a rumor, Pa doesn’t like her so he calls her that, remember?” Cam laughs, thinking about their mother’s sister who had disappeared mysteriously a few years earlier. She’s somewhat of an enigma to the family, none of the children really know much about her aside from the cards she sends on birthdays and holidays.

“Well maybe it isn’t, Ma has magic after all. What if her sister does too!” Calla grins, “She lives in the city somewhere, maybe you should visit.”

“Now you’re trying to get rid of me.” Cam says, only half joking.

“Cam, I would never, you know I’d miss you too much if you went away.” Calla says sincerely, offering her hand up to help Cam. “Now come down! We made ricciarelli.” 

“But it’s not the holidays?” Cam questions, the family usually reserves cookie making for winter time when everyone is stuck indoors.

“You looked like you could use some sweets, I convinced Ma to make them as a harvest treat.” Calla smiles, her blue eyes, the same color as Cam’s, shining.

If there’s anything to motivate Cam it’s sweets. They finally decide to jump down from the tree, grabbing Calla’s offered hand for help. As they put Miele back in the stables, Cam can’t help but think about what Calla said about finding a magic teacher. 

It seems too good to be true, and they don’t know if they believe their Aunt Angela is really a witch. Still, Cam has to hope that someday they’ll be able to find a place to belong. Hopefully a place with less cows and siblings. 

As they walk back to the house, Cam takes in the rolling hills and old growth trees around them in the golden light of sunset. The countryside is beautiful, and although Cam doesn’t like living here, they have to admit that at least the scenery’s nice.

[whump-town]

Shattered Hearts, Fractured Lungs

(Chapter Fifth; Warnings for: school shooting, violence, language, and heart failure; you can find the first chapter here, the second here, the third here, and the fourth here)

Emily Prentiss just wants to do her job but a messy case sends her sprawling into the arms of a dying man with a toddler and his weird, broken family.

“We don’t even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.” --Charles Bukowski

Aaron places his tea in the microwave knowing that it’s going to put him behind schedule for the morning. He still needs to get ready for the day but he can afford just a moment to make himself a cup of tea. Anything to soothe his raw throat. Besides, knowing his ragtag group of students he’s going to need his voice today. He’s going to have to be able to keep up with them.

The thought makes him smile, a light warmth spreading along his chest. He settles his hips back against the counter and settles his gaze along the room. He can’t remember cleaning up but the dishes are actually clean, resting in the sink waiting to be put away. 

He never washes the dishes. It’s a fatal flaw but he hates washing the dishes and… where’s the dishwasher? It had been a pity gift from Dave. No point in washing dishes by hand when you’re---

When you’re… he can’t remember where he was going with that line of thought. It’s just blank. The sentence just--- the microwave beeps behind him and dejectedly, he turns and opens the microwave except the beeping doesn’t stop. He shuts the door and the fact that the beeping just keeps getting louder and louder and it’s overwhelming causing the soft edges of pain to start blooming across his chest. 

And he remembers, there are no kids to go to. No school. No family. No fucking heart---

“Easy,” thick, rough fingers wrap around his bicep. A tight squeeze that grounds him to the moment and away from the microwave still beeping frantically from somewhere to his right. But he’s not at home. He’s not at home because everything is white and it stinks. It smells like bleach and he hates it.

He doesn’t know where he is and everything hurts. He can’t breathe. It hurts so bad. Tears sting his eyes as they fall but all he can do is limply lay in this bed, in this place he doesn't know. He’s not sure what he did wrong but he's sorry and he promises he won’t do it again.

He’s sorry… please just make it stop.

“Family of Aaron Hotchner?”

Five and a half hours of waiting--- fuck, she’d read somewhere it was only supposed to take four. Reid, anxiously pacing, had reminded them all of this fact. It’s taking too long but that has to mean some fraction of hope for them, right? As long as it’s not too short he hasn’t just coded on the table and left them reeling with his loss. Without a fight. With a gaping hole where he once was, wheezing but here.

He’d been here and now…

Standing from her chair, she’s not sure what to expect. How can she? The last time she was here for this kind of news, Anderson was dead. Anderson was dead and she was about to be gifted to another office-- sent away. What is the likelihood of that happening again? This time there’s more at stake. There’s Jack and Reid and Penelope and she’s quickly realized that in this look group, this misfit family, Aaron is the glue.

What’s going to happen if he doesn’t make it out of this?

“He’s in CICU,” the doctor informs them with a nod. “He’ll be there for the rest of the night until he’s breathing on his own.” The doctor’s had warned them of this very likely outcome. His lungs have been working double time for months and they’ll want this reprieve. 

Dave, jogging Jack up his farther in his arms, nods his head. He’s really the only one wrapping his head around this information past the point of--- he’s alive. “Can I go back,” he asks, voice thickening with the release of stress now overcoming his body. 

The doctor frowns as he considers it. The Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit doesn’t have much room for patients and visitor’s to be moving around. However, it’s pretty understandable that his patient and his family might benefit from a small visit. That is, as long as they can stand the sight of the bandages.

“Briefly,” the doctor caves. “He’s not going to be up for too much.”

Alive. Not up for much but alive.

“I’ll take it.”

Dave has to leave Jack in the waiting room. He’s still half asleep when he climbs into Reid’s lap without complaint. It seems to calm the genius nerves, being able to wrap his arms around the small boy. And alone Dave follows the doctor down the hall. 

It’s eerie and the only sound down the long, winding hall is the heart monitors. To his untrained ears they all sound steady and he wonders if the doctor hears the same steady rhythms.  

“It’s for his safety--”

Dave is practically covered in scrubs and plastic. They place gloves on his hands after they instruct him to thoroughly wash. Taking his temperature and handing him a mask to place over his face. He starts to sincerely doubt if he should be back here. If Aaron’s health is so dependent on all this, Dave doesn’t want to place him in unnecessary danger.

Stepping into the room, Dave’s taken aback by all of the wires and the machine. The ventilator pulls in each of Aaron’s breathes and releases them with hiss and beep. He’s awake though, light brown eyes pinched in pain as he slowly answers the nurses question.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” The nurse commends. “One last question,” she promises, squeezing Aaron’s hand. “1 to 10, how much pain are you in?”

Hotch’s entire chest feels like there’s a herd of baby elephants sitting atop it. It’s worse than anything he’s ever felt. Hell, bleeding out on his classroom floor wasn’t as bad as this. Still, he raises only seven fingers. The nurse has to lean over his hips to see his trembling left hand hardly raised from the bed and fingers hardly uncurled. Still, seven. 

“Honey,” she says, gently and so understanding. “I need you to be honest with me, otherwise, I can’t give you any pain medication. Okay?’

He nods and this time he raises a more honest answer. Nine.

The nurse squeezes his knee as she stands, smiling. “See,” she says, “that I can work with.” When she looks up, she finds Dave and to him her smile softens significantly. “Looks like you’ve got a visitor, sweetheart.” 

Aaron moves his head, feeling the uncomfortable pull at his mouth as the tubes remain still. Dave. 

“Don’t cry,” Dave whispers, feeling his own tears sting his eyes at the sight of the ones pooling over in Aaron. “Oh my boy,” Dave walks up to the side of the bed. He takes one of Aaron’s hands and the other moves to his hair, gently soothing down the sweat soaked locks. 

Dave smiles sadly as he wipes away one of Aarons’ stray tears. He can see just how tired Aaron is. The dark bags under his eyes look more like bruises but all of that can be excused. Aaron’s alive and he’s got a new heart and a chance at life. 

Of course… his future is built solidly on a hand-ful of medications he’s going to have to take daily. He’ll have to be careful each flu season and fight from here on out to keep living. To eat healthy and get enough sleep and-- 

“You did so good,” Dave praises, softly. He keeps his hand in Aaron’s head, luring him back to sleep. Not that Aaron has very much fight left in him right now. “Get some rest, son.”

Where Emily had expected leniency or maybe even some rule-bending she finds only hard schedules and a very weak, recently cracked open Aaron Hotchner. He gets two days to rest. In those days Dave is the only person they allow back and just as he’s starting to get restless they bring him down to a different floor. They pass through so many floors she stops bothering to learn which intensive care unit it is. 

What’s important is that he’s on his feet and making slow progress down the hall. 

He’s leaning a little bit more on Dave than he should be but gone is the tube in his throat. Pulled behind him is the oxygen tank that the doctor has already decided he no longer needs. But for today he pulls in deep breathes through his nose and tries to make it down the hall without incident. 

“Emily,” he greets breathless, stopping and shaking in place while he looks her up and down. He’s not checking her out, there is no baited heat that should make her cheeks flush. Instead, she feels the familiar warmth of his presence wash over her. Nothing but at ease familiarity.

She presses a kiss to his cheek, smiling when he chuckles breathlessly. “You look---”

His chest moves a little too much when he pulls in a breath and he winces, face pulling back in a tight grimace. “--like shit?” he offers, not even fighting when the nurse that had been trailing them pushes the wheelchair behind his knees. 

She smiles softly but it’s Dave to confirm, “just rest a moment.” He rests a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, gently rubbing, “you can try again in a moment.”

Once he’s settled, his eyes moving back up to Emily she shakes her head. “Are you kidding,” she asks. “You look hot enough to pick up anybody in this place you wanted.”

He pulls his arm against his chest as he groans, the smile on his lips all she needs to know that he’s laughing through the pain. “Don’t lie to me,” he chides without any heat. It’s him that blushes first and it makes her smile that much harder. 

She rolls her eyes and reaches down to mess his hair up even more. 

He wonders if this new heart is really going to be able to deal with all the beats she made the old one skip. 

“So, hot stuff,” she looks over her shoulder to the rest of the hall. “You supposed to be walking down this hall?’

He nods, throat impossibly tight at the way she says hot stuff so casually.

He really does look worse for wear. His dark hair is perpetually swept in every direction, no brush or amount of gel and water seems to tame it. Normally, his neatly trimmed facial hair never sees the light of much more than a light shadow. Unable to lift his arms and unwavering on his decision to not let a nurse shave him, he’s grown a nice beard. 

He’s scraggly and well past just windswept. 

He’s lacking nearly all of what makes him so much the Aaron Hotchner the world gets to see. His shoulders aren’t squared, he can’t even stand up all the way.  But Emily Prentiss finds that she’s never loved just a ragged thing as much as she does this man. 

As teenage girls love the abhorrent idea of a straw too mangled to go loved by another soul. As a child might choose the smallest, most beaten down stuffed animal. Emily Prentiss loves this man  who looks up at her with heavy, beaten down eyes. Not because he’s broken but because he gets back up. 

And Aaron Hotchner might just love her back.

[scaredofthebasement-blog]

When Love Walks In - Chpt 3

Bringing Auston Out of a Coma

2484 words

It’s around 10:30 am when Dr Quinn comes by Auston’s room and informs the family that since Auston’s been in a Coma now for five days, her team plans to proceed with the Microlaryngoscopy and Bronchoscopy to determine how well Auston’s Larynx is restoring itself.  If all tests results show progressive healing, that his deflated lung is working again and his lungs appear strong enough to be weaned off the Ventilator, then the plan is to take steps to bring him out of his Coma today.  

For Auston’s family, hearing Dr Quinn’s words is like having life breathed into them.  

Dr Quinn continues, “After Auston is brought out of his Coma, he will require breathing therapy to get off the Ventilator.   Down the road, depending on how well his vocal cords have healed, we will determine if he will need the vocal cord rejuvenation procedure that I had alluded to previously.  Do you have any questions for me at this point?” Quinn finishes and waits.

Brian speaks for the family, “No questions right now, Doctor. Please, can you do what you need to do to be able to wake Auston?  We can’t wait to see him conscious again.  It’s been torture waiting”, he begs.  The rest of the family nods in agreement.

“I understand completely.” Quinn sympathises.  “I’ll make sure the team is ready for the procedures to begin.  You may now go and be with Auston before the attendants come to get him”, she instructs the family.

“Thank you so much Doctor”, they all chime.

“What you have done and are doing for Auston means the world to us”, Ema speaks up in appreciation and awe.

Dr Quinn blushes and nods her head modestly as she responds, “It is very nice to be appreciated.  I wish I could make it all be back to normal for your family and Auston, but there’s a long road to travel still.  It is my intention, to help Auston and you all, every step of this journey.”

The family all gather around Dr Quinn to give her a group hug.

After disbanding, they attend Auston’s room to hug, kiss and tell him how much they love him before the attendants’ transfer him onto a stretcher and wheel him to the operating theatre where Dr Quinn and her team await.

In the operating room, Dr Quinn is able to determine that Auston’s Larynx is healing well, his airway is staying open, and both lungs are functioning adequately.  Auston passes the test to determine if he has the ability to be weaned off the Ventilator.  Dr Quinn and her team are pleased.   They immediately start decreasing the drugs that have been keeping Auston in his Coma as well as some of his pain medications.

Auston is delivered back to his room in the Intensive Care Ward while Dr Quinn washes up and follows shortly after.  Walking toward Auston’s room, she approaches his family in the waiting room.  

“Doctor Quinn!  How did it go?”  Brian begs as he and his family quickly stand, anxious to know the outcome.

“Well, I have some pretty good news.”  Dr Quinn tells them.

“Auston’s Larynx appears to be healing well, his airway is open, and both lungs are working adequately.”

Dr Quinn continues, “We will soon take steps to wean Auston off the Ventilator because we believe he will be able to breathe on his own after some breathing therapy.  He will alternate between using the Ventilator through his Trach and an oxygen mask with the hope that his breathing strength improves.”  

“You’ll be thrilled to know that we have already taken steps to wake Auston from his Coma!”  She tells them.

Dr Quinn must caution them, “However, I need you to understand that it may take a while before he comes out of unconsciousness.  It’s different with each person’s circumstances, and we can’t easily predict the timing for such things. Be aware too, that coming out of sedation can lead to hallucinations, disorientation and agitation as so many drugs are still withdrawing from the body. My advice to you is just to be there to reassure Auston with your familiar faces and friendly voices talking about daily life etc. That can help a lot.”

“Also, keep in mind that Auston will have lost a lot of muscle strength even though it has been only five days.  Recovery can be a long, slow and sometimes painful process as the body has been through major trauma.  Being a professional athlete may make Auston’s recovery much quicker, but at the same time, it may bring him considerable frustration.  I would not be surprised to see him suffer from an identity crisis of sorts.  Just the idea that he may not be able to do what he has spent his entire life training and focused on can set a person down a dark road.  Expect that he will probably struggle with many things.  Psychological Therapy, as well as Physical Therapy, will be offered when deemed appropriate, and I hope you will encourage him to take the former as much as the latter.”  

“We understand.  Thank you, Doctor.  Were you able to see if his vocal cords are joining up?”  Ema asks.

“No.  I’m sorry.  Testing for that is highly specialised and will be conducted in due course at the Vocal Cord Reconstruction Lab when Auston is out of his coma and feeling stronger.”

“Okay Doctor.  We understand.”  The group all indicate with a mixture of fear and excitement dripping from their voices.  “Can we please see him now?!”  They beg.

“Absolutely. Let’s go!”  Dr Quinn leads the way back to Auston’s room.

The two nurses have finished checking feedback from the machines, adjusting intravenous and catheter lines and noting results on their clipboards.  They step aside to allow the family to gather around Auston’s bedside. All eyes are focused on Auston as they wait for any signs that he is stirring from his coma.  Nothing yet.  

Dr Quinn lets the nurses and family know she is leaving the hospital to attend to a few things but will be back as soon as she is summoned.  She speaks directly with the nurses and instructs them to inform her of any concerns they might have and to let her know when Auston shows any signs of waking.  She advises that she will be available day and night by pager.    

Dr Quinn steps up behind Ema and Brian and places her hands tenderly on their shoulders as they stand next to each other watching Auston.  She reminds them again to contact her for any reason whatsoever, anytime whatsoever.  She gives both of their shoulders a light squeeze, walks over to hug Alex and Bre and then departs.

It is hours before Auston makes even the slightest movement, but it comes with the twitching of his fingers. Dr Quinn is immediately summoned by Nurse Kelly.  

Upon Dr Quinn’s return to Auston’s room, she joins the family and observes Auston moving more parts of his body, some of them flailing in small bursts.  Then, at last, he starts to open his eyes.

Ema is near Auston’s head on one side while Brian is on the other.  They are both holding his hands.  His sisters, Alex and Bre are at the foot of his bed.  It is apparent that Auston is trying to focus on something when he opens his eyes.  The lights in the room are dim.    

“Auston? Papi? Honey?  It’s Mom!  Your Dad and I are here and so are your sisters, Alex and Bre”,  Ema tells Auston as she smiles looking into his eyes and smoothing his hair.  

They all watch Auston closely for any facial expressions that might give them a hint as to what he is thinking, but his face remains blank.  His eyes look around the room slowly, not able to focus on anything or anyone in particular. Then his eyes roll back and close.

About 5 minutes later, Auston’s eyes open again, and it is Brian who speaks up. “Auston?  Son? It’s your Dad here.  I love you, Auston.  You had an accident, and you’re in the hospital recovering.  You are getting great care.  We haven’t left your side, and we won’t leave your side”,  Brian’s voice is coated with emotion.  There is no response from Auston to indicate that he hears what his father says; just a blank stare and his eyes close again.

After about a half-hour of nothing, Auston starts to come alive, so to speak.  He appears to be hallucinating, flailing and going in and out of consciousness.  Dr Quinn quickly determines that it is in everyone’s best interests to have restraints attached to Auston’s arms, wrists, legs and ankles to protect him and others from injury and calls for the attendants to put them on.

Auston’s family, along with Dr Quinn, can’t help but recognize the situation as surreal and giggle out of nervousness when it appears Auston might get out of the restraints.  

Dr Quinn jokes, “The pressure those restraints can withstand is too high for anyone to compromise, yet your ‘Bam Bam’ here has me concerned. I have a feeling Auston is going to surprise me at every turn.”  His family grin, catch each other’s eyes and nod in agreement.

“Welcome to the world of Auston Matthews, Dr Quinn”, Alex speaks up proudly.  “He’s been overachieving his whole life, so we’re hopeful for his progress. He will love it when we tell him what he did here.  He’s very competitive.”

“Yes, apparently.  It seems he’s turned fighting his restraints into a competitive sport”, Dr Quinn adds with a small laugh.

“Dr Quinn, you have to tell him! We’re sure that will make his day to impress you”, Bre suggests giggling.

“Oh, really?  Well, I’ll be happy to tell him, but first, we need to get your feisty, yet very sleepy, brother to wake up so I can do just that”, Dr Quinn jokes.

“We can’t wait for Auston to meet you, the one who saved his life”, Ema adds as she walks over to give a side hug to Dr Quinn.

“I appreciate that Ema, but I can’t take the credit as so many people contributed to saving Auston’s life”, Dr Quinn says humbly.

Brian speaks up, “Don’t be so quick to gloss over what you have done for Auston.  We know others played a role, but we also know it was you that made every difference between him being able to just exist, to him having a chance to really live again.  We know that it is because of your special expertise and skills that Auston will have the best chance of recovery.  We know, that what the puck had crushed beyond all recognition, you found a way to reconstruct so that he could have a chance to breathe on his own and hopefully speak again.  We have heard from so many people in the medical community that say you are the best at what you do.  Believe me when I tell you, Dr Quinn, that I left no stone unturned to know just who was in charge of looking after our son.  If you weren’t the best, then we were going to get the best.  We learned that Auston lucked out big time getting you as his surgeon and specialist.  We have been informed that, if this horrific accident had to happen at all, Auston was in the right place, at the right time.  We have been told that you have risen at an unprecedented speed through the ranks of medicine and that everybody who is anybody in the medical community, lobbied the Canadian and Ontario Medical Associations, The Medical Council of Canada and The Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons, to grant you exceptional status to be able to do what you do, in the discipline that you do it and at the level that you do it, sooner rather than later; that has and will make all the difference for Auston.  I am given to understand that there is no one else, even internationally, that is as successful in the field of throat surgery, nor as knowledgeable, skilled or qualified in the field of vocal cord reconstruction as you.  Have we been lied to, Doctor?”  Brian asks, confident in the answer he is about to get, as his family all look at Dr Quinn as they await a response.

“Well, you certainly did your research, Brian.  Would you mind writing a Wikipedia page for me? Dr Quinn laughs slightly embarrassed.  “I am very flattered.  I suppose I cannot dispute any of the things you just revealed, but I hesitate to think of myself as ‘the most’ or ‘the best’ or ‘only’ as I am sure if another truly applied themselves and cared as much, they too could do what I have done.  I can tell you that since I was seventeen years old and watched a dear boyfriend climb and slip from a metal, spoked cemetery fence and get his neck impaled by a pointed stake, I have never been the same person.  Not long after his death, I resolved that I would be the one who would find a way to make sure that anyone suffering from a neck or throat injury would live and be able to breathe and speak normally again.  I became possessed if I’m being completely honest.  I was shocked and concerned to learn of the lack of study in the field and the shortage of dedication and talent in this specific area of medicine.  I have had one goal since then, and I am thrilled that I am achieving it.  I sincerely hope with everything I am that people like Auston will benefit.  His success will be my dream come true.  My next goal is to train other doctors to be able to do what I do, as I am stretched pretty thin.”  As Dr Quinn finishes speaking, she looks towards Auston and notices that he is awake and staring at her.

“Well, look who has decided to join us?”  Dr Quinn announces with a huge smile, gesturing towards Auston.  

Did he just hear all of that? She wonders.

He did.

As the family turn around, elated, they focus their attention on Auston, as he tries to raise his arms to his throat.  He can only get his arms about an inch off the bed before they collapse from the restraints.  His eyes find his parents; looking afraid and pleading for an explanation.

Ema and Brian desperately try to explain things to Auston, but Dr Quinn senses it is just confusing him more as he starts to get agitated, withering on his bed.  

“Ema and Brian, would you mind? I’d like to speak to Auston for a moment?”  Dr Quinn asks.

“Oh, yes please Doctor”, Ema begs as she steps aside allowing Dr Quinn to approach Auston.

[metamorphicrocky]

prompt: why proms take gary to a dark place

oh you really had to give me a good one, didn’t you?

Gary can't remember how they met. Was it at the park? The mall? Oh, wait, he passed her by while riding his new hovercycle. He had just stolen it, and she said he looked cool. So, obviously Gary had to give the first girl to talk to him in years a ride. It made perfect sense, and now he has a girlfriend. It all worked out nicely. He still has the bike, too. Cops never caught him, which was an amazing stroke of luck.

Now, Gary is sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, kicking his feet idly as he waits for her to come back with popcorn. They've been together for a couple of weeks, and it has been amazing. It's been so long since Gary last spent time with someone his own age and enjoyed it.

"I got the goods!" Sam screams as she kicks the door open, her curly hair flying everywhere. Her arms are stuffed to the brim with snacks, and without warning, she tosses it all at Gary.

The force of the snacks pushes Gary down onto the mattress with a small, "Oof!"

Sam snorts. "For a self-proclaimed badass, you don't really act like one."

Gary shoves the snacks off of him and sits up, an offended look on his face. "Oh, I am such a badass. Look at this jacket. My bike? Badass. Therefore, I am badass."

"I don't think badasses use the word therefore," she says, sitting down next to him. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, and Gary feels his face heat up intensely. Sam laughs, a light sound that makes his heart flutter. "Or blush when they get a kiss."

"Well–I, uh," Gary stammers, "I was, um, caught off guard by, uh, that.

Sam rolls her eyes and hums. "You're losing your status as my kickass boyfriend with that. Wanna try to reclaim the kickass part?"

"Your deep, burning desire for me was felt physically, was all." Gary places one of his hands on her cheek, bringing her in for a quick yet passionate kiss. When they pull away, Sam is blushing.

Nailed it! Gary smirks. "Who isn't a badass? Hmm? Because sweet heavenly fire, I think I just kissed the hell out of you."

"Okay, you win this one. Now, let's watch the hell out of this movie!"

Sam rips open the bag of popcorn and digs in while Gary takes the remote and plays the new action movie they wanted to watch. Throughout the movie, they lean into each other and make ridiculous comments about whatever is going on. By all standards, it's the most cliche movie they've ever seen, but Gary hasn't had fun like this in years.

It's nice, to have someone who only wants him because she likes him, not because he's better at fitting into smaller spaces. He hopes this warm feeling in his chest never goes away.

During the last fight scene, Sam slips her hand into his. "Hey, you wanna come to my prom?"

"Prom?" Gary's eyes flit to Sam, her eyes still glued to the screen. "Heck yeah I would. When is it?"

"Next Saturday at eight."

Gary feels a pit form in the bottom of his stomach. Everything was going so well, but now it could all fall apart.

"I have a family thing then," Gary says, his voice clearly displaying his disappointment.

"Boo!" Sam moans. "Your family is always keeping you busy, can't you get out of it?"

"I don't know...," he trails off.

But then he notices Sam's pleading eyes. He can't break her heart like this. She makes him happy, and he wants to be happy more than anything. Scratch that, he needs to be happy.

"You know what? It doesn't matter what my parents say. I'll be there."

Sam's smile as he squeezes her hand makes whatever consequence of this worth it already.

----

Gary walks into the dimly lit garage, tossing his helmet onto an empty bench. A car is propped up in the center of the room, old and rusted, but still useful as a source of parts.

"Kid, grab me another beer and a torque wrench. The big one," a gruff voice demands from underneath the car.

Gary rolls his eyes and does as asked, swiping a beer and a soda from the fridge before grabbing the wrench. He tosses the wrench carelessly towards the waiting hand and plops down on the dirty cement floor next to the car.

He hears a mumbled noise of thanks among the odd noises of car parts shifting around. Gary takes a sip of his soda and tries to ignore how the ground is freezing despite it being the middle of May.

"There it is."

Tom pulls something out from underneath the car and slides out, sitting up and sipping his beer. Gary has no clue what it is, but Tom looks even grosser than usual. His salt and pepper hair is greasy, sweat slicking it back in a messy way. The scratchy beard he has is coated in oil. His white shirt is covered in stains of all sorts, and Gary has to restrain himself from cringing.

"If you're sitting there, it means you want something. Spit it out," Tom orders.

"You know that job we're doing? Next week? On Saturday? The one with the–." A growl cuts off Gary's rambling. The blond clears his throat nervously. "Right, well, you don't absolutely need me for that, yeah? I mean, anyone could sneak into the vents and be a lookout, right?"

Tom stands, so Gary does the same. The man towers over him, a brute of a man, but Gary tries really hard not to let that intimidate him...even though he can snap Gary in half if he really wants to.

"If you don't come, you won't get paid."

Gary swallows a lump in his throat. "Fine."

"And you're out."

Gary's eyes blow wide, his heart stuttering in his chest. He has to be joking, he has to be.

"What?" Gary splutters, his arms gesturing frantically. "We had a deal! You can't do that!"

Tom laughs, loud and booming in the empty garage. There's an icy glint in his black eyes that sends chills down Gary's spine. He advances towards Gary, causing the teen to back up until he hits the wall. Tom painfully shoves a hairy finger into Gary's chest, leaning in close to his face. Gary can strongly smell the acrid stench of motor oil and alcohol that clings to Tom all the time.

"I'm the boss. I make the rules, boy. Don't you forget that," the man sneers, growling in anger. "Get the job done and you can do whatever the fuck pleases you, but I won't be this kind if you ever try to cross me again."

Before Tom walks away, he slaps Gary, leaving a stinging red mark across the left side of his face.

He waits, shaking against the wall, until he hears the slam of Tom's bedroom door to go to his dingy room. The blond collapses onto his bed, not even bothering to change his clothes. Gary hugs his pillow to his chest and wishes for life to go back to the way it was before...everything.

----

The day of the job rolls around. Gary has let Sam know that he's going to her prom, but he'll most likely be late. He has a stolen tux that matches her dress prepped and ready for the moment the job finishes. He'll make it, no matter what.

Gary is currently sitting in the back of a van, surrounded by men who are significantly bigger than him. It isn't crowded at all, nope. And Gary definitely doesn't feel more and more nervous as the drive continues, that would be ridiculous.

His knee is bouncing, and he knows that it's pissing off the guy next to him. To avoid thinking about it, Gary looks through his jacket's pockets for the fiftieth time to check and make sure that he has all of his tools. Of course they're all there. The gun resting awkwardly on his hip doesn't ease his anxiousness in the slightest. Gary is used to simple thieving, not high stakes robberies.

Damn it, he just wants to go to prom with his girlfriend. Does everything have to be so complicated in his life?

All of a sudden, Gary is roughly shoved by the guy he was annoying. Oh, so the car stopped. Great. It's showtime.

Gary hops out and walks to the dumpster next to the bank, jumping on top of it to reach the grate that leads to the ventilation system.

"Don't fuck this up, boy," Tom snarls.

"What a nice vote of confidence," Gary mumbles under his breath. "Okay, no buffer or warm up. You've got this, Gary."

He quickly makes work of the vent, unscrewing it and sliding in. Gary begins crawling through the vents, following the set of instructions he memorized to get him to the room he wants.

Within a couple of minutes, Gary kicks open a grate and drops down into the security room. He only has a few minutes until the guard comes back from his break, so the teen quickly disables the security systems in the safe room and sneaks back into the vents, putting the grate back in its place.

"All set to go in," Gary says into his earpiece as he makes his way to their target.

He's thankfully small enough to move fast in these things, so he reaches the safe room with time to spare. He glances at his watch to see the time, and everything is going according to schedule. If this goes well, he can be at Sam's prom at nine.

Gary lays in the vents and watches the moment the guys burst into the safe room, attacking all of the guards and knocking them out quickly. Once everyone is down, Gary hops out of the vent. Tom gives him a hard pat on the back, and that's as close to a "good job" as the teen will ever get.

Gary takes out his never-before-used-by-him gun and holds it awkwardly as the men work on breaking into the safe and stealing everything they want.

He's the lookout. Easy job. Just standing there. And looking. Easy peasy.

Until it isn't.

The men are finishing up and stealing the last of the money and valuable items rich people keep in here when Gary sees him; one guard is waking up.

"Um, hey, one of them is waking up. Do something!" Gary whisper-yells at the group.

Tom turns around to see and just shrugs his shoulders. "Shoot him."

"What?"

"If you want to live, just kill him. Now, shoot, you fuckin' dumbass!" Tom yells.

That really wakes the guy up, and the guard snaps to attention and sees Gary, shaking with a gun in his grip directly next to him. The guard snatches Gary's ankle, dragging him down to the ground. He moves to get on top of Gary and subdue him, probably attempting to rip the gun away from him and shoot the group, but the moment he starts wrestling with Gary, the trigger is pulled.

Gary cries out as the body falls on top of him, blood splattering all over the teen's body. He scrambles to get out from underneath the corpse, smearing his hands in the blood in the process.

The guys are finished, and Gary stares at them blankly as their mouths move, clearly giving him orders to get moving. But he can't hear them. He keeps moving anyways, running after them and trying to keep his breathing steady.

He doesn't know what's going on beyond that he's moving and there's blood on his hands and oh god he killed someone holy shit someone is dead because of him—

All of a sudden Gary realizes that they're back in the garage already as Tom slaps him on the back.

"Haha! Your first kill! Wasn't it fantastic?" Tom is cheering along with the other men, beers in their hands and bags of riches surrounding them. They all look happy, celebrating a successful job. Gary stands there in shock, his bloody hands shaking violently.

He runs to the bathroom and rips off his blood stained clothing, tossing them as far away from him as possible. He turns on the sink and scrubs viciously at his hands because there's so much blood and god he did this, it's his fault that a man is dead and no one except him is upset about it—

Gary can barely see anything through the tears except red, red, red, yet he distantly wonders how his dad would feel if he could know that his son just killed a man.

----

"Gary? Where's your tux?" Sam questions as she raises an eyebrow at Gary's navy Infinity Guard hoodie and jeans. She seems mad, and Gary can barely even process it at the moment.

He knows that everyone from her school—the school he would have gone to if his life hadn't gone to shit—is staring, but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters to him anymore, except her, but he can't even keep that one thing.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. I wish I could stay, Sam."

Sam cups his face and wipes away tears he didn't know were there. "Gary, what's wrong? You can tell me."

She looks so beautiful in her black dress, pink flowers adorning the bottom of it. Her hair is in a neat bun, some curls framing her face and the freckles dotting her dark skin. He wishes he could have enjoyed tonight, but the universe just won't let him be happy.

He doesn't dare touch her, fearing his previously stained hands would ruin her beauty.

Gary kisses her, forcing himself to remember this moment and what love feels like before he has to leave her and never come back. He must have always been destined to live a life of loneliness.

Sam pulls away first, tears ruining her perfect make up. "Bye, Sam," he whispers.

And then he runs, slipping between the crowd and launching himself at his bike. He puts his helmet on and slips his backpack on, and then leaves it all behind.

Gary is sixteen when he kills his first man and leaves his hometown. And he doesn't look back once.

[mundaneapocalypse]

Even though we have not finished the cabin, we have made a little progress—mainly the ventilation and the foundation.

Mark is not comfortable with electricity and it frustrates him, but he tries to do it by himself and when it makes him cry, we hire Miguel to fix everything. Miguel is not comfortable with log cabins and they work together. You have not lived until you have seen a native Spanish speaker and a native Latvian speaker carry out a conversation in English about electricity, which the Spanish speaker knows about, and log cabins, which the Latvian speaker knows about. Some of it probably wasn’t English, Spanish, or Latvian.

Last spring, we installed the ventilation. We procrastinated on the ventilation because it intimidated Mark, and I was not even going to attempt it by myself because it would be worse of a disaster if I tried. I helped them, though.

We had to cut holes in the log cabin walls and once you cut a hole in a log cabin and change your mind, you have to replace the log, which is like playing Jenga with a chainsaw.

Mark had a feeling if we did not install the vents before we did anything else, we would have to rip things apart to install them later because our cabin was rotting and growing black mold, and he is a little concerned that he waited a year for it. Whenever we tried to make time for it sooner, he could not, and it is one of the things he needs to work on uninterrupted for hours.

Our roof ridge has box vents, and Mark wants to add wind turbines. Box vents are holes in the roof that are allowed to be there. The wind turbine would move from the wind blowing, so it does not need electricity. This kind is different from the ones on our roof that supply electricity.

Each room or main room zone (kitchen, stairwell, main room) has two fans on the exterior walls. One fan sucks air into the room and one fan sucks air out. To prevent pollen or pollutants from leaving or entering, both fans can have filters. We have to clean them regularly to prevent fires, but we don’t mind. Each room has its own system, meaning the fans are not connected to each other. Mostly, we need them to control humidity.

We don’t like how the vents look, but they are necessary. I spray painted the vents before we installed them.

However, the major problem with the ventilation was power—we needed enough electricity to use the ventilation, crock pot, phones, laptops, and charge batteries on the same day. Angelica and Madison lived with us then, and Mark and I bought Madison a laptop and other things she needed to study. The ventilation, Madison, and the crockpot still hold power strip priority.

After adding one new solar panel a month, we have enough power to run the ventilation, laptops, and crockpot, and charge batteries and phones and the like, if we do not use things like mixers and drills. Mark still woodworks to sell the items and to give away and we plan our power usage so he always has a full battery. If he has a commission, Madison is the only other one who can use a power strip. Always, I avoid using the electric kitchen gadgets, and if the battery-powered toys run out, Marmalade has to buy replacement batteries with her allowance. Mark and I thought we would have limited power, at least at first, and I had the important ones in my hope chest, like a coffee grinder, egg beater, and mechanical timer.

We do not want the solar panels on top of the roof permanently, but will leave them there for now. Also, we do not have space for more on the house and have begun using the privy and barn roofs, other places we do not want them permanently. It works well enough.

Mark and I tried to install the solar panels by ourselves, but we could not do it well, and we hired a guy to do it and he taught us how to do it. We still hire him because he needs the work, but he lets us help.

We did not install it by ourselves, but we got a home security system, a fire alarm and a carbon monoxide detector that notifies the fire department, and a flood detector. With those things, it seems like if people do not have it, they regret it, and we try to learn from mistakes made by other people. The one we have been looking at includes a motion detector and we want the motion detector at the barn. It is something we could theoretically do by ourselves, but it seems safer to use a company.

The home security guy looked at us like we were crazy when we said we wanted the security camera pointed at the chicken coop. That was literally the only reason we got a security camera.

Mark wanted to put the sign in the yard and I said he could, but as long as we were being sign people, I wanted one that said something like, “And until the police get here, we have guns, and bullets are much faster than the police or you.” We looked at different signs and Mark was concerned criminals would not understand them, and he carved one on our porch that says, “This house is protected by the good Lord and a Gun. You might meet both if you enter unwelcome.” Right by the welcome mat in the Hufflepuff colors that says, “Wizards welcome. Muggles tolerated.” We don’t have anything worth stealing, but the burglar might not know that. Mark also made a sign saying, “If you are looking for the log cabin, this is the place” and it has our address.

We really, really wanted indoor plumbing, but got the home security, fire, and flood stuff instead because we are adults. None of them are exciting, but Mark purifies and disposes of the water and cleans the bathroom and privy, Marmalade does the dishes, and I do the laundry. We spend quite a bit of time lugging water and most of the time, we don’t mind, but indoor plumbing would be a huge convenience. We are lucky, though—no walking for miles to get water, we don’t worry about droughts, we don’t have cholera or Ebola here, etc.

We have a landline because the emergency services can track it. It is difficult to find our house sometimes and if a kid has to call 911 because an adult can’t, we want to make it as easy for them as possible.

We have not done other wiring, but we have the places marked. We do not have finished walls yet and it seems like a bad idea to have a lot of wires unless they will be promptly covered up.

Mark built a shelf in the loft for the non-child-friendly liquids (like bleach), flammable liquids, and solar panel batteries and made sure there was a spot for the water heater and water filter when we get them.

He built a cupboard under the stairs, where I store cleaning things, laundry things, and my household binders. He does not know if it will fit under the stairs, but for now, it works well. The real one will have space for sewing, knitting, and crocheting supplies. Right now, I needed somewhere to keep them away from the kids.

For the kitchen, Mark built me a pie safe, and I keep eggs, butter, sourdough starter, bread, other baked things (biscuits, pies, cookies, etc.), seasoning, maple syrup, honey, molasses, peanut butter, and opened sauerkraut, pickles, and jam, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and the produce for the day in it. Grandma says if the pickles are submerged in brine and the jam has sugar, it will probably be fine. We have such a limited fat supply we hardly ever have a full jar. I made some fabric bags, like grocery bag holders, for garlic and onions, since they should be kept at room temperature and in a dark place. We were having trouble finding a place for winter squash, and I tried a willow basket and hated it. It didn’t work without the squash squashing each other or having to be tumbled around and bruised while I look for the right kind. Mark made a stand specifically designed to accommodate pumpkins, Hubbard squash, turban squash, spaghetti squash, and butternut squash. It is based on vegetable bins. Instead of being stacked, they are side-by-side and wide enough to two rows of Hubbard squash, long enough to stack one Hubbard squash on its side, and short enough for me to reach in comfortably, and it stores enough for a month. They schnuck right in. He made sure the pie safe and the squasher were topple-proof because along with the risk somebody would topple it accidentally, Lad and Lassie stand up by pulling on things. (They aren’t allowed to crawl around the kitchen, but Lad is sneaky.)

A couple months ago, we improvised a half bathroom. It has a composting toilet, a bucket of whatever we are using to soak up the sewage, a basin, a bottle of soap, a hand towel, a flashlight, a trash can, a bucket to empty the basin, a bucket to fill it up again for the next person, a stack of toilet paper and feminine hygiene items, and a sign with instructions. When people come over (especially kids), we put a towel over the toilet paper and feminine hygiene items. Most of Marmalade’s friends probably don’t know about periods yet and we don’t want the moms to have surprise questions.

The bathroom floor is not finished and neither are the walls, but it has a window, and we have a towel hung over the window with command hooks. Most importantly, we do not have to go outside to use the privy and Marmalade does not have to wake up an adult to take her after dark.

When we finish the real floor, we will include pipes, but we might not get a toilet and sink, or a kitchen sink. It would be a pain to add after we finish the floors. We have adapted to life without plumbing fine, but sometimes it would be nice to have it.

Mark built a temporary flight of steps into the cabin and he wants to build a porch.

Outside, we dug French drains around the cabin and they drain into a barrel so we can water our garden with the water.

We have been clearing plants around our house until it is bare dirt, which doesn’t look very nice and we might pave over it or cover it with gravel or something. We do not live in an area prone to wildfires, but if our cabin catches fire, we do not want it to spread to the rest of the property.

Bugs have been waging a guerilla war against us and Mark sprays for bugs and fills in any gaps in the logs. He installed a bug guard between the foundation and the first logs.

They might think mud chinking is the same as their natural habitat, and sometimes the mud chinking is drafty, too. If I mop, sometimes it washes away the chinking, and if the rain blows against the cabin for long enough, it washes off. Once it rained and overnight the temperature dropped to about ten degrees and when it melted the next day, the chinking turned back into mud. Maybe our technique is bad, but redoing it is a hassle, and we haven’t figured out what we are doing wrong. Appalachian log cabins were chinked with mud before people invented caulk. Unfortunately, we don’t have anybody to ask if the chinking regularly wore away easily—we might be doing it right and don’t know. I asked my great-aunt if she knew anybody and she said, “Didn’t the Waverleys when I was a girl—No, Irene Waverley is dead.” She said she would ask around the nursing home.

We scrubbed out the chinking, replaced it with weather stripping, and caulked it with a caulk that comes out textured and a color similar to the cabin. We chose grey because our logs have been turning grey, which is fine. If we wanted a different color, we would have used other kinds of logs.

[ethompson928]

We are Bulletproof (BTS GANG AU) Part 9

Previous Chapter  /  Next Chapter

Seokjin was by no means poor.  No, he was the wealthy owner of a nightclub and owned a shady business on the side.  His name was known for his overnight success of building a reclusive night club for the people of Seoul willing to pay and que to get a chance to see the modern and somewhat mysterious nightclub.  He was locally known in the press and media but no one really knew the real man who owned the nightclub, no one truly knows the secrets that lay behind closed doors, no one knew that Kim Seokjin was one of Seoul's mysterious gang members that worked alongside Kim Namjoon.  One thing was clear Jin (as his close friends referred to him as) refused to work 'under' Namjoon, Jin preferred to call it a partnership of sorts, business partners if you will.  Jin worked alongside Namjoon.  Jin also had a huge list of contacts and his influences and knowledge of how to run and maintain and business was what brought Namjoon to Jin in the first place.  Overtime the two grew closer and Jin was now one of Namjoon's closest and most trusted friends.  Namjoon sought out Jin's opinion for everything and always valued him as a member of the team...or family as Jin liked to refer to their gang as.  Jin was wealthy and resourceful indeed, he even had a side business where he hired women to work certain tasks in his club and hired them out to potential customers who needed some important attention.  When Ally learned of this she was shocked, Jin ran a "sex" service from the club in which he worked.

"It's not a sex business" Jin had scolded her as he walked alongside her.  "These women are not just hired out for sex, that can be anything you want them to be...a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a lover..." he trailed off.  "But seeing as we can't take you out into the shops until word of your disappearance effectively dies off we need another method to get you all dressed up for tonight's festivities and you are going to look gorgeous".

Ally could see that Jin was right, she couldn't just walk around in daylight and not expect to get caught.  The question was did she want to get caught though?  This has been what the Angel and Devil on her shoulders had been arguing about over the last day or two about whether or not she should try to get away.  A part of her wanted to escape and go be with her friends and family, another part of her had started to get used to the situation she found herself in, no matter how badly she was being treated by SOME people, the rest of the boys seemed nice enough and they weren't intentially trying to hurt her.  Well she had a good mind that Jungkook thrived pushing her to the ground and declaring that he was going to break her.  That made her scared, that and having to put her life at risk to complete missions for these boys and she didn't know what was more terrifying.  The Angel and Devil were having a field day and she hated it.

Jin had made a few calls and invited a certain friend of his to meet with him to help Ally find an outfit for the casino tonight.  It was when he decided to tell her about what his side business was.  She was truly horrified for she never thought that Jin, who seemed to be a wealthy respected business man would be into that sort of thing...but then again he was a member of a secret gang hiding away in the outskirts of a forest near Seoul.

Jin had returned her to his club, it was the middle of the day, so all the lights were on.  It took away from the mystery and the atmosphere as she seen the club for what it was without the crowded rooms, busy bar, loud music and bright lights.  The main room looked much larger than what she remembered it.  A man was behind the bar cleaning glasses and the table top making sure everything was perfect when trading hours began at 10pm.  He suddenly guided her down the long corridor that she remembered vividly from when she accidently interrupted Jungkook and J-Hope and the myserious man whose identity she would never find out.  Jin knocked on a door labelled 5 and let himself in without waiting for a reply and tilted his head indicating that Ally should follow him in.

The room was luxurious, matching the decor of the rest of the club.  It was a private room, there was a window that was opened letting the cool crisp air in which gently ventilated the room, quite literally a breath of fresh air for Ally who gently smiled as her eyes roamed the room.  A changing blind stood in the far corner of the room and a small but stylish two person sofa say against the wall opposite it.  A very feminine voice echoed around the room as Jin gently closed the door behind Ally who stepped further into the room.

"Jin, is that you?" A tall slender woman emerged from behind the changing blind and walked forward.  She had long dark brown hair, plump lips coloured a light pink, a gentle shade of brown on her eyelids and a small amount of mascara.  She looked really natural, not too slutty like Ally had imagined she would in her head.

Jin stepped forward and have her a light hug "Ji Hee, how are you...thank you for helping me out, I knew the other girls would be no help so I came to you."

"It's my pleasure.  Let's see what we have to work with hmm" Ji Hee smiled extending a hand and gently pulled Ally closer.  "You're like a little flower.  Let's make you bloom!"

"Ally, this is Ji Hee, she's gonna help you, she's not as dramatic as the others when it comes to her dress sense.  She's modest and innocent in comparison to the rest which is why I brought you to her.  You're in good hands."

Ally was quickly ushered behind the changing board and tried to various outfits and was to show them to Jin who turned down most of the outfits.  One was too short, one the colour wasn't right, the third was too low cut in the top and the next one wasn't appropriate for a casino.  Finally Ally tried on one more dress, Ji Hee told Jin he had to stop being so pickybut she felt they found a winner.  Ally sheepishly walked out from behind the changer.  The dress was long and black, it gently hugged all the right places, had a low neck but not enough to show her cleavage, the shoulder straps say gently on her shoulders and it flowed gently.  She looked innocent at the same time sexy.

Jin put his drink down and stood up.  "This is it, this is the dress!"

Ji Hee smiled at her hard work and smiled looking at her new model and instructed her to do a twirl.  Ally laughed sheepishly looking down to the floor as Jin looked her up and down.

"She's ready.  Our little flower."

[exi-dentally]

Between Life and Death - Min Yoongi x Reader

Title: Between Life and Death Author: Haru. Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader Au!: Spy Alternate Universe Prompt: “I nearly lost you. If you want to make this about sides, I’m on whatever side keeps you alive. Can’t you see that?”

The agency was abnormally quiet.

The type of quite that you can hear a pin drop from the upper floors where the rookies train to become actual spies. The type of quiet that makes a spy, who's been in the business for quite awhile, start to suspect what the fuck has been going on. "Yoongi," The girl whispered as she rolled her chair closer over to the Mint hair colored spy, gulping. "Did everyone just die or something, because it's oddly quiet in here." The boy chuckled and looked over to his right and shook his head in her direction, slightly amused by her antics. "No," He replied simply, before going back to his book that he was reading on picking locks - which, on his last mission with the girl would have been more useful than learning it now. "Everyone's just probably in the meeting room with Namjoon." "Then why aren't we in there?" "Because I don't want to socialize with people, and," He put the book down and turned on his computer, turning on the 3D simulation to practice his lock picking skills he had acquired from the book. "We just returned from a mission. It's not like Namjoon's going to deploy us. He has more people to boss around than just us." The lock and tools were holographiccally placed on his desk as he spoke. Yoongi took a quick glance at the girl who was currently pouting - probably from the fact that it was still unusually quiet and the fact that she had to sit and do nothing, which was complete hell for someone who needs to constantly be moving - and laughed to himself as he started to work on the simulated lock in front of him, grabbing the holographic tools in front of him. "So," He decided to strike up a conversation with his partner as he jammed the tools into the lock, meticulously turning and listening carefully to the sounds which emitted from the lock. "Did you write up the mission report Namjoon asked for?" "Yeah," She replied and decided to wheel her chair back to her desk and turned on her computer, pulling up her mission inbox, constantly pressing refresh to see if she and Yoongi received any missions from Namjoon or the main bosses. "I did that before we took a break for lunch with Hoseok and Jin," Sighing - since nothing came up from her pressing the refresh button about a million times - she scooted her chair back over to Yoongi and watched as he poked his tongue out from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated. "After that, the building got all quiet." "Mmhm." Yoongi replied, half paying attention as he was twisting the tools. Nothing seemed to work to open the holographic lock. Out of frustration he huffed and put the tools down and ended the simulation, picking up his book once again to see what went wrong. "I think you skipped this step." His partner spoke up from his right, getting up and went behind him and reached over Yoongi, her chest slightly pressed up against his back, and pointed at the step he supposedly missed. Yoongi nodded, slightly leaning forward towards his desk and book to avoid his back being in contact with her chest. There was nothing wrong with skinship, though, in a job like this, it's not good to get attached to any body. People could exploit them to you, making you appear more weak; that's exactly what the enemy wants - weakness. "Thanks." He simply replied, making the girl smile down at him before moving back and flopping back in her chair. She then puffed her cheeks out and poked them with her index finger, clearly bored. "If we don't do anything exciting in the next hour, or it's still this quiet, I am going to combust with this boredom." "Don't be overdramatic," Yoongi wouldn't want to admit it out loud, but he was bored as well. He then got up and offered his hand to the girl, making her take it without a second thought. "Let's go find the head boss, maybe he'll have something for us." "I was wondering when you were going to submit to your boredom--" "Shut up, I'm not bored, I just hate you sitting there pouting." He muttered, dragging her along to the boss' office, while his partner was smiling in the back. "He was worried about me..." She whispered to herself as she slowly walked behind Yoongi. Their walk wasn't that eventful; Yoongi was quiet, keeping in the blush that was going to arise from his face at her contact while the female, (Y/N), was trying to bunch together a conversation (which didn't evoke a simple yes or no answer from her partner). "Weather's actually nice today," She spoke as they passed a large window. The sky was bright blue, cloudless and beautiful, the sun smiling down upon the green grass, sakura trees and private road which lead to the agency. "Not too cold, not too hot, right? Just the way you like it." "Yeah, I agree," Yoongi said, looking behind him at the girl, smiling. The rays of sun kissed her cheeks, making her more goddess-like than she already was. "Just beautiful.”

The mission, which required a ton of begging, guilt tripping and bribing the head boss, Hitman Bang, to get (literally, the girl was so close to slipping a twenty dollar bill on the boss' desk if it wasn't for Yoongi and his way with words) the two of them were sent to Jungkook's hangar to pick up the gear that was required for the mission. The maknae of the group watched as the two bickered about who was going to drive - "You seriously drive to crazily, (Y/N), I almost had a heart attack when you stopped so abruptly at that light." "You know, you are horrid at driving. I may drive fast, but we get there on time whereas you, Mr. Suga, make us late driving like an old grandpa!" "There is no such thing as being late to a mission!" - while slipping on their gadgets very clumsily, making Jungkook clear his throat. "How about I install something onto the car so that none," he looked between the two partners, half glaring. "Of you two get to drive and I don't have to hear your bickering over the coms." "That works," the Mint colored agent agreed, his pink, soft lips pursed in a straight line as he nodded his head up and down. "So then I don't have to get a neck brace for when she--" "Just get into the goddamn car, hyung." The location was slightly sketchy. Getting driven - by a car that drives itself because Jungkook refused to get his ear screamed off by Yoongi and (Y/N) - through a forest, under a dark tunnel and being brought to a building that had no street lights on the road, seemed more sketchy by the second. "So this is the place?" The girl had asked, over her communication line with Yoongi and Jungkook. "Because this sure doesn't look like a goddamn place where they would hideout." "According to the map and the location coordinates that the boss gave me," Jungkook's voice was a little static-y over the comms, indicating that the signal was shitty. "This should be the right location." Back at base the maknae was double checking the coordinates that he was given - which was scribbled quite messily and illegible by their head boss. Both the agents looked at each other before taking out their night vision goggles from their small backpacks and slipped them on. "Oh well," Yoongi moving his head to the right and left, cracking his neck slightly. "We're spies, we were trained to do this kind of shit." He then walked towards the building, trying to find the best place to break in and enter. The girl internally whined, hoping and praying that nothing happens in the building before slowly following Yoongi, holding onto his arm for dear life. "Where do we go from here, Kookie?" (Y/N) asked as her and Yoongi crawled through the building's ventilation system. Her sense of direction was crap, and being a field agent instead of a desk agent, totally did not help. Yoongi was stuck behind her, growing slightly impatient as he heard the Golden Maknae hummed over the intercoms, who was most likely distracted by his phone - playing fucking piano tiles - and not paying attention to their whereabouts in the goddamn vent system. "Uh, right turn, then left and then go straight," The brunette instructed, quickly shutting off his phone and throwing it onto his desk in front of him. So much for breaking another high score that none of his hyungs can reach. "You'll see and exit once you get to the end and you need to enter from there." "Thanks, Kookie! You're the best you know that?" "He's the best when he's not distracted by piano tiles," Yoongi muttered as he heard a familiar tune of Fur Elise being played. "Stupid Jimin and his challenging Jungkook to reach a million..." The girl in front of him laughed as she heard the Mint hair colored spy spoke coldly about the younger boy. "Hey, at least he's not going to be bored while we do this," She tried reasoning with her male partner. "'Cuz I feel like this mission's going to last more than an hour." The two partners reached the end of the suffocatingly long ventilation system - who the hell knew that such a small, three leveled building had such a humongous vent system? Of course, it's for fanfic purposes of course - (Y/N) pulled out her trusty laser cutter from her bag and started to cut the vent cover off for them to slip it off and get onto solid ground. "Did you get out of the vents yet?" Jungkook's static-y voice rang in their ears, making Yoongi groan and reply back, "No, because the manager or interior designer of this god-for-saken place decided that, 'hey, let's build this very complex system to properly ventilate the smallest fucking building.'" "Don't get all that mad, hyung, at least they didn't have a maze in the building to locate the room," Jungkook spoke, referring to their previous mission of breaking into a much larger building, but the freaking floor plan of the building was so confusing because the designers of the place decided to create and paint the hallways the same way along with the same horrible painting of a dog peeing. "Be grateful." "Be grateful," Suga mocked the younger as (Y/N) successfully took off the grate, catching it mid-air as it was about to fall to stop the grate from crashing onto the beautifully - that was sarcastic - tiled floor. "How about you go on field 24/7--" "Stop bickering, I swear I will cut you both up into minced meat with my pocket knife and ask Seokjin to make me a meal with it." The girl advised the boys, glaring at Yoongi and hoping that her voice sounded stern over the intercom to intimidate Jungkook. "You're so cute when you're mad, noona." "Oh, then I'm about to get a hell of a lot more beautiful, Jeon Jungkook." The girl then crawled out of the vent, standing up and sticking close to the wall, not sure if there was red motion tripping lasers. She then kneeled on the ground and took off her backpack as quietly and slowly as possible, not wanting to make an alarm start going off. The female spy fished out her anti-perspirant - which was non-scented for people who cannot stand the smell and to be more sneaky - and sprayed the area in front of her. “Nothing." Yoongi spoke up from beside her, startling the female slightly. "You should stop jump scaring people. If I didn't look before my reflexes kicked in, you would have been punched so hard in the nose." "You don't punch that hard." "Says the one who got his butt kicked by the same girl during weekly practice Namjoon puts us through." "I let you win." "Say whatever you want to say to save the little pride you have," The girl smirked as she plopped the anti-perspirant spray back into her bag and slung it over her shoulders. "Mr. I-Got-His-Butt-Kicked-By-A-Girl." "Ooh! Burn!" The maknae roared over the intercoms as (Y/N) walked passed Yoongi, still having that smug look on her face. "You just got burned by noona!" "Shut up Jungkook. I'm telling Namjoon to burn your Overwatch figures for real this time." Yoongi walked in front of the girl, claiming that 'I should go in front to protect you', looking at his wrist watch gadget that displayed the location they were and the end-point. "You know, it's a little bit weird," Jungkook spoke over the intercoms, muffled voices and sounds of Friends episodes coming through along with his voice. "There's no one around." "It is the middle of the night, Kookie," The girl instantly replied, holding a flashlight in her left hand, shining a path for the two of them to see. "It makes sense no one is here." "Yeah, but there's also no security system." "You tell us this now?!" Yoongi whisper-yelled into the intercom, making Jungook jump four feet up from his seat. "Well it wasn't relevant then." "If it involves a case, any information you have is always relevant!" "Well, excuse me for forgetting sometimes!" "You're supposed to be the golden maknae!" "Guys!" The female spy spoke, startling her teammates. "This is normal, it's fine. Let's just carry on." She instructed, turning on her wrist watch and pulling up the holographic map onto the watch. Rolling her eyes she then, once again, walked in front of Yoongi, leaving the boy utterly speechless. Well someone was going to sleep on the couch tonight.

"That should be the correct door, yes." Jungkook reiterated for the nth time in a row since (Y/N) was a tad bit anxious. Before she could ask again, Yoongi got onto his knees and pulled out his trusty lock picking kit, taking out all the tools he needed. "Please let this work." The mint colored spy mumbled under his breath as he inserted the tools into the lock, occasionally twisting them around in opposite directions. "What's taking so long?" Asked Jungkook over the coms. His voice was impatient, almost resembling of what a child would sound when they're bored of whatever they were doing or where they were and want to go back home. "The arrow that shows your location hasn't moved for like a good half an hour-ish." "Yoongi still hasn't mastered lock picking, that's what." "This is harder than it looks!" The mint spy replied to the two youngers, clearly a little impatient. "A book can teach you so much." "Can't you just hack into the system, Kookie?" "I would but," Jungkook replied, laying back against his chair, propping his feet up on his desk and placing his laced fingers behind his head, cradling it. He could hear Yoongi's grunts and irritation from (Y/N)'s communication line. "It sounds like Suga's having a little bit of fun there." "Oh, you think it's so funny," Yoongi huffed and threw the tools onto the ground in protest. "Laughing at my pain. Why don't you hack into the system before I kick your butt." "I'd like to see you try," The maknae sat up properly, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, ready type in commands into it. He had to egg Yoongi a little bit. Where's the fun in giving in easily? "But, since I like noona, I'll hack it open for you." "You are by far the worse--" "And, done!" The brunet cut off his hyung - purposely - and internally gave himself a high five. Yes, he was probably going to get his ass handed to him right after this mission, but, hey, being a spy is a tough job... Might as well get a kick out of it! The girl laughed and took ahold of Yoongi's black leather jacket, pulling him inside the room. It was slightly dark, but once your eyes got used to it, everything was a little clearer to spot. "Oh, lighten up, he's just a little child." "A child that literally needs to remember who's older." "He's not that much younger," The two of them then pulled out gloves, which didn't leave any trace of their existence, from their bags and slipped them on before examining the room. "Besides, if it weren't for him, this mission would have taken longer." The female, younger spy walked over to the main computer - this huge screen that was almost the size of the wall it was rested on, with a million buttons (she was this close to pressing the red button) - taking out her phone and opening up the remote hacking app Jungkook had also installed there for these types of purposes. "Isn't there a saying though, (Y/N)? Treat your elders with respect?" "That goes both ways, Suga." The girl muttered under her breath as she pressed her gloved finger onto the phone's screen, starting up the device to start hacking. Her smart phone started to download and extract all the files from the main computer and putting bugs that destroyed the files that sounded important to the enemy's company. "I still think this was too simple." "Oh hush Jungkook, spy missions are always easy." "In the movies and books they are," The younger boy spoke. "Not in real life." "You're going to jinx--" Yoongi's intercom got cut off, making Jungkook literally start panicking. Oh he fucking jinxed it. The boy then furiously typing into his laptop, trying to get his hyung and noona back on the map (if the map even decided to start working again). "I'm going to officially get burried alive once Namjoon hyung finds out about this." On the other side of the line, the two were completely oblivious, still looking around the room, hacking into the computer. Once the extracting, hacking and downloading was finished, she threw her phone into her bag and looked over at Yoongi, nodding. "The job's finished." "Cool." The boy then walked over the door and twisted the handle. Weird. Doors aren't supposed to lock like that. Especially since no one's here. Besides them. Yoongi tried once again, twisting the handle (and even pulling on it) but nothing happened. Well, fuck. "Uhhh... I think we have a problem." "What do you mean--" Instantly, the main computer screen emitted static, making the two spies slowly, with their eyes dilated with fear, turn around, watching as the screen started to display a video. "Seems you have fallen into my trap, dear spies," A voice spoke through the speakers, slightly auto tuned to disguise the owner of the voice. "Sometimes, I really question the intelligence of Hitman Bang to notice when certain jobs he's given are hoaxes." The static on the computer monitor started to slowly lessen, allowing the voice to take a shape - an outline of a man's sillouette. "Now, little spies, I have a, how to put this in a nice way, challenge for you, so to say," The computer's endless amount of button panel changed to a panel that had multiple types of weapons laid out on it. The voice let out a fear-striking cackle before continuing, "I have this... Mmmm... Problem of mine that keeps showing up and I need you to, let's say, exterminate it?" "We're spies, dumbass," The girl retaliated, her posture and attitude displayed anger while her eyes were still dialated in fear. "Not killers." "That is quite true," The voice replied, sounding slightly like it was moving closer to whatever the hell it was speaking into. "But I need it dead before I can let you go." The door opened up from behind them, letting light seep into the room. The spies then turned around to face the door instead of the screen - which had turned off as soon as the door opened. Looking at each other and taking a deep breath of air, the two grabbed the weapons they required and stepped out of the room, expecting the worse. 

"I just realized, the exit is right there... Can't we just escape?" "They wouldn't make it that simple," Yoongi replied, holding the shotgun he had taken from the wide arrange of weapons close to his body. You never know what could jump out - it was better safe than sorry at this point. "If the door was locked when he was talking to us, I doubt that exit is open." "We could try--" "No." "Why not?" The girl asked, halting. Not once in her life - more like the time she entered into the Agency - had she heard Yoongi not try all the options. It was like he was giving up without even trying. "Why can't we try? Whatever the hell he wants us to do it involves going against our protocol." "We're just-- I just don't want to risk it." "Wow, that's a shocker," The girl tossed her weapon - which was a dagger - onto the tile flooring near the wall on her left. "Since when did Min Yoongi give up without even trying." "I'm not giving up without trying--" "Then what are you doing, huh? Going against protocol because of some stupid silhouette figure bossing us around to do stuff, huh?" She decided to take a step near the Mint agent, trying her best to intimidate him - even though she was shorter. "We have Namjoon and PD-nim for that!" "(Y/N), just shut--" "No, I am not going to shut up!" The female glared at Yoongi, her eyesight blurred from the tears that were starting to swell. "I'm not going to shut up until you give me a goddamn reason why you're taking their side!" "This isn't about sides!" Yoongi yelled back, dropping his gun on the ground. The girl stepped back slightly from the loud noise and covered her ears as she watched as Yoongi continued his little spiel. "But, if you want to make this about sides, I’m on whatever side keeps you alive. Can’t you see that?! Or are you just so dense that you can't even see it?!" The girl was at a loss for words, she, at a leisurely pace, uncovered her ears and stared at Yoongi, tears slipping down her face involuntarily. "This is why I'm doing it. To make sure you're safe and alive. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive."

A/N: This took forever to write!!! I’m not too fond of spy au!’s yet I always find myself writing about them--- Something about them and the prompts I have a list of work together... -H.