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ren-c-leyn · 4 years ago

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FNF Story: Betrayer

Another tale for @promptsforthestrugglingauthor‘s Friday Night Fights event. This week’s prompt is here, additionally, I used these 1,2,3 other prompts from their collection, this prompt by @thependragonwritersguild, this prompt by @clean-prompts, and this prompt by @corvidprompts.

Warnings: This piece is a heavy angst piece that mentions death in passing, some alcohol use, a curse, fighting, some blood, but nothing graphic or in any particularly descriptive detail.

“I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it!” I stumbled forward, the world wobbling around me. My companion lay on the ground, breathing in shaking, labored heaves and surrounded by so, so much red. “You have to be fine, you have to!”

But he wasn’t fine. the crimson pool grew and grew as the breathing slowed. No matter how much pressure I put on the wound, it wouldn’t stop bleeding. All the while, I heard a chorus of whispers surrounding us.

‘Why?’

‘Why did you betray us?’

‘What have you done?’

‘Why did you do it, why?!’

‘We thought you were our friend.’

I blinked back tears, trying not to listen, trying to stop myself from shaking as I focused on him, focused on trying to save him. Both those pale green eyes were going glassy.

“Please don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t!” I begged, but they closed anyways.

The whispers burst into hideous laughter and then it all went dark.

I jerked out of bed, drenched in enough sweat that I may as well have just been caught in the rain. I clutched my own arms, breath ragged, trying to expel what I’d just seen. His hands fell on my shoulders, touch gentle and light, reminding me I was not alone.

“You’re gonna be okay. It was just a dream. I’m here,” he said.

And I froze. My mind reeled, trying to figure out exactly when this... this creature got in here. It was hard to think with the pounding headache and blurry tears, so I just shoved him away and stumbled out of bed and downstairs.

Bits of memory faded in and out as I wobbled closer and closer to the bottom of the staircase. Right. I was drunk. He helped me home. I was sobbing, something about the curse.... The curse.

I stopped on the last stair before sinking down onto it. There was the obnoxious pounding of footsteps as he came down after me. He sighed.

“You’re not ready to be up, yet,” he said gently before carefully grabbing my arm.

“Get your hands off me!”

“You’re sick, I’m not gonna just leave–”

“I would sooner crawl back up these stairs on my hands and knees than lower my pride enough to ask you for help–so, again–hands. Off.”

He let go and held his hands up.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just let me help this once.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Good. I don’t trust me, either.”

I groaned at the sarcasm.

“Infuriating as ever.”

“Guilty as charged.”

A tense silence passed between us as he stepped passed me and sat down on the rug in front of the stairs.

“It’s only going to get worse,” he ventured after a few minutes went by. “And alcohol isn’t going to help.”

“Don’t lecture me, I know. And...” flashes of the dream danced through my head, “I know what I need to do to fix it.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“To undo what has been done, I have to undo my betrayal. And I don’t need you getting in my way.”

His expression soured.

“Your death won’t undo it if that’s your plan.”

“I’m not planning my own death.”

He sat there blanked faced as I stood and slipped around him, heading to the kitchen. It must have clicked somewhere between my first glass of water and the second because I heard him screech in a way only he could.

“You can’t do this!”

“You can’t stop me.”

“It’s stupid! You’ll die before you kill him! And another one will just take his place, that’s how power vacuums work!”

I listened to him rant and rave for a few moments. Ironic that the traitor who helped the Empire take over was being advised by a traitor to said Empire now. We were always enemies, always on opposite sides, no matter who we decided to serve we were always against one another. Even now, even after he decided to pity me, we were still on the opposite side.

Around the third glass of water, I felt alive enough to pass by him again to collect my weapons and armor. He grabbed my wrist and I ripped my arm away.

“Touch me again and see what happens,” I growled.

He threw his clawed hands up in the air.

“Fine. But please take a moment to stop and think about this, think about it seriously. He’s guarded, he’s living in what is essentially a fortress, there’s magic on his side, and he’s only half mortal. Half mortal. Killing him is damn near impossible for warriors who have kept up their training and aren’t being slowly consumed by a curse.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve been using my downtime to think of smarter solutions than a duel, then, huh?”

He shook his head, white hair fluttering about.

“You’ve always been impossible.”

“As have you, my old enemy,” I mumbled as I resumed walking to my little armory. ‘As have you.”

He stopped protesting after that, just sat sulking on the bottom step of the staircase. Instead, he merely watched through silted eyes and a stony mask. Gargoyles, didn’t they have anything better to do than sit and judge?

It took me the better part of the day to finish preparations, but I had ample time before the main event. I paused by the stairs, meeting his solemn gaze.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“You rarely do. Act impulsively, yes, but change your mind after deciding to do something?” he snorted before his shoulders sagged. ‘I wished you would, though. There might still be other ways. Ways that you might, I don’t know, survive?”

I shook my head.

“Tried already. No. They won’t forgive me, not while my betrayal still stands.”

“And so you rush to your death. Go then, my old enemy. I will bury you when it is over.”

I couldn’t find any words. Not a snarky reply or even a simple thank you. Instead, I gave him a nod and started walking to the door.

It was my last chance to make things right, my last chance to be honest. Better late than never, I supposed, but given how slow traffic was, it was looking like it might be never. I had hopped onto the farmer’s cart, thinking it’d be a faster trip. Turns out, it wasn’t. Horses and wagons filled the road to the city gates for as far as the eye could see and showed no signs of moving forward.

A sigh escaped me as I felt another throb in my bones, another pulse of a headache. I know, Renard, give me a little more time. I’ll avenge you. What I helped them do to you. It didn’t change anything, but I felt better for the thought.

Slowly, I forced myself out of the back of the wagon and began making my way forward, cutting passed farmers and merchants and travelers of all kinds until I was up at the front. Looked like the guards and some foreign nobles we arguing. I didn’t have time for it. Any of it.

So, with a light push, I started a distraction. A brawl between the noble’s guards and the city guards would get ugly, no doubt, but who would notice me slipping by? No one. That’s who noticed me slipping by.

The palace, or perhaps fortress was a better description of it, was also fairly simple. I just stood slightly behind and to the side of the first official looking person heading inside, and pretended to be their guard as we walked in together. Then, I promptly slipped away from him before he could notice we were being followed.

The palace was at half staff, thanks to battles up north, so now was the best time to catch him. Risky and probably going to get me killed, yes, but the best time all the same.

Finding the evil son of a lake serpent that killed Renard, that caused me to be cursed, proved to be the actual challenge. I listened around the servants, eavesdropped on the throne room, and just wandered around, searching for him. Eventually, I came across the war room and heard the unmistakable, booming voice of the Emperor. Wonderful.

Terrible, I corrected myself as I realized that this was where most of the palace guard had been hiding. And they had spotted me.

“Who goes there?” the woman demanded, scowling at me from beneath her spiraling horns.

I blurted out my name. My full name. And she stood there, staring blankly at me. I smiled.

“I come bearing critical information.”

She opened her mouth, but the booming voice echoed out of the war room.

“Let the spy in.”

She looked back at the door and then back at me before making a sweeping gesture towards it. Not questioning my good fortune, I made my way inside.

He stood tall, a hulking figure over the rest of the forms in the room. All were armed, but all made a conscious effort to keep their hands above the table. It would be a bad idea to get into a fight here, I assumed.

How unfortunate.

I placed myself right at his side, craning my neck upwards to look at him. He was as captivating as he had been back then. Quietly fierce and striking. His armor shined in the light of the crystals above his head, and his green eyes glowed ominously as he stared down at me.

“It has been a long time.”

“Indeed. Seven years to be exact.’

“They have not done you well,” he noted.

“But they have served me well,” I replied with a dip of my head, “and you as well.’

“The information?”

I grinned with a nod.

“Yes, allow me to get the point, then. You’re true enemy is not in the north.”

There was a collective of whispers and snorts from around the table, but I kept my eyes on him.

“Interesting accusations. Show me your proof.”

I gestured to the table and watched him lean over it again.

“Look at the table, My Emperor, and see for yourself. Notice something odd about the attack patterns? How they all seem to conveniently benefit one person?”

I didn’t know what the sea I was talking about, but it certainly seemed to get his attention as he leaned further down, inspected the placements of their colored flags with more scrutiny. I could almost reach it, now, that fabled soft spot.

I slid a little closer to his side, making a show of gesturing to the flags.

“If you look at where the boards of these territories, and the placement of the blockades, you’ll see that it seems to greatly benefit you’re general over there, as anyone moving through his land has to pay the fee....”

“How dare...”

“Silence.’

The general shrunk down as the Emperor leaned a little closer to my direction, paying closer attention to the general’s boarders. Slowly, I raised myself onto my toes and reached for the dagger in my sleeve. He turned his head to look to me, to ask a question, and that’s when I struck.

My dagger found that soft spot, but his hand also found my arm. I had just barely, barely broken the skin. I shook. So close. I had been so damn close....

There was silence in the room. A thick, suffocating one as all stared at me in shock. As I stood in front of him, barely able to conceal the tremble of my legs, I wondered what made me think I was strong enough to challenge him in the first place. I guess the gargoyle had been right. I had sentenced myself to death, not freedom.

His eyes burrowed into me, staring with that same intense glow and power that had convinced me to switch to his cause to begin with.

“I always wondered when you’d do it,” the emperor said at last. “I always wondered when you’d turn on me, betrayer.” He twisted the dagger out of my hand and it clattered lifelessly to the floor. “It’s all you are in the end, all you’ll ever be, a betrayer. No loyalties, not even to yourself. The first opportunity to drive the knife in, you’ll probably take it.”

“I should have taken yours sooner,” I tried to snarl, but it just sounded hollow.

“So you could avoid your curse?” He clicked his tongue. “Wouldn’t have worked. It wasn’t Renard who cursed you. Wasn’t any of your old allies. No. You are you’re own curse. You always have been, always will be. No one hurts you more than yourself, but you only care now because there’s a physical manifestation of your corruption inconveniencing you.”

“Killing me,” I corrected.

“Betrayer, you’ve sentenced yourself to death, not the curse.” He swung me around by my wrist, handing me over to the guards. “Take the betrayer to the dungeons.”

I didn’t fight them, didn’t have the strength too. And as the iron door swung closed, the words echoed around the inside of my skull.

It’s all you are in the end, all you’ll ever be, betrayer.

Story taglist (ask to be added or removed.):

@nemowritesstuff , @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @hannahs-creations, @writer-candy, @kaylewiswrites, @tenacious-scripturient, @ofinkblotsandscript, @mischiefiswritten, @kespada, @silvertalonwriteblr, @inspiring-prompts, @greenwood-writes, @elkatheinkstained, @n1ghtcrwler, @writingiswilde, @say-no-to-negativity, @wordshavings

#friday night fights #short story #fiction #fantasy #original story #my writing #a story by ren #angst

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mylordshesacactus · 5 years ago

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An Exhaustive Blow-By-Blow Analysis Of The ‘To Catch A Jedi’ Warehouse Duel That Was Definitely Asked For And Desired By People Other Than Us: An Essay By Alex And Jo

Or: It Is The Year Of Our Lord Two Thousand FUCKING Twenty, And Yet Here We Are, At The End Of All Things, Still Analyzing Barriss Offee’s Terrible Life Decisions.

Yes we’ve been saying we’d do this for the past five years minimum yes we’re girls what about it.

Before we begin, a moment of acknowledgement. Of all the people she’s faced, with all her skill and cunning and strength in the Force, the one and only character we have ever seen completely get the drop on Asajj Ventress--take her out without even giving her time to go for her lightsabers, stone cold, no duel no banter no challenge—

Is BARRISS FUCKING OFFEE. DEPENDABLE BARRISS™. LUMINARA UNDULI’S KID. THE NERD WHO MEMORIZED THE ENTIRE INSIDE OF A GEONOSIAN LABYRINTH, YOU KNOW, JUST IN CASE.

WITH A PIPE.

In the library.

And once she’s done that, this happens:

...and Jo and Alex spend the next seven years going absolutely feral.

A brief moment now where we drag Ahsoka for failing to notice that in the last ten minutes Asajj Ventress has somehow managed to lose about six inches of height. But of course she doesn’t; the entirety of To Catch a Jedi is spent establishing that Ahsoka is firing on zero cylinders. She’s exhausted—she’s probably been awake for over 24 hours at this point—she’s confused, she’s scared, her entire world is crumbling all around her and she doesn’t understand why. So we see her make slip-up after slip-up, making a lot of stupid mistakes that get her noticed by the Coruscant police, and also briefly forgetting how elevators work.

“I, uh, guess I’m not exactly on my game these days.”

So...yeah. She doesn’t notice Asajj’s height loss or the real damning difference: Barriss is completely silent the entire fight, and Asajj never shuts the fuck up.

Of course, Barriss doesn’t need this deception to be perfect. She just needs to make it believable enough. This little Makashi salute—a duelist’s formality, something that screams Dooku—is the first little Ventress-y quirk she throws in, and that’s relevant, because it’s central to her entire motivation for this fight.

Barriss isn’t here to kill Ahsoka.

Barriss is here to save her life.

...Like, she’s bad at it. She’s making horrible decisions that keep getting worse. But there’s a reason she’s disguising herself as Ventress—Ventress is the perfect catspaw, and Barriss desperately needs a catspaw right now, because Ahsoka was never meant to take the fall for the bombing.

Letta went off-script and came within inches of naming Barriss—who, going by the timing, was almost certainly already infiltrating that secure facility (which...gotta respect the skill that took, at least) to silence her—or free her, we don’t know what Barriss intended but we’re not giving her that much benefit of the doubt right now. If she hadn’t called for Ahsoka as quickly as she did, Letta would have died alone in her cell, killed by a nameless Force-user, and the trail would have gone cold.

Instead Ahsoka was there, and when Barriss was faced with a choice between her actions being exposed and letting Ahsoka take the blame, she took the latter. But then Barriss breaks her out, with every indication being that something...went very wrong, as the situation spirals out of control. It’s obvious that Barriss is in the vents during that escape because the clones in Ahsoka’s path keep mysteriously dying and their wounds are fresh, and also there’s no more convenient interference once she gets outside. So now Ahsoka’s free but the subject of a planetwide manhunt that makes her look even MORE guilty…which wasn’t meant to happen.

Remember that Ahsoka is the one who contacted Barriss for help, and Barriss clearly wasn’t expecting it. She spends most of this episode desperately flailing for something, anything to do to fix all this, and she’s lost until she discovers Ahsoka is now with Ventress.

Ventress. Ventress is a darksider. If Ventress is linked to this at all, people will believe it. Ventress could easily have gotten into that prison—through the vents, someone would inevitably have suggested, and probably discovered whatever lightsaber sabotage Barriss used to get in. Case closed.

So all Barriss has to do to fix this without coming clean is frame Ventress believably. Then the person being executed will...well it’ll only be Asajj Ventress, and she deserves it, right?

(Asajj Ventress--and all those clones Barriss killed in the breakout. And that’s very telling. Barriss who memorized 800 junctions of a Geonosian labyrinth for one singular mission, because “other people’s lives” depended on her success, doesn’t seem to have factored in the lives of those clones. They don’t seem to be registering in these calculations.)

The point is that Ahsoka’s name will be clear and Barriss’ will never have been in danger.

If you watch that short opening bout, before Ahsoka kicks her away, it’s...well, in Luminara’s words, amateurish and sloppy. All the blows, including that ostensibly fatal double-overhead strike, are DRAMATICALLY telegraphed. In a few cases, she is visibly missing on purpose:

This strike right here? This strike is HILARIOUSLY transparent in slow motion. She has an opening and instead sweeps her lightsabers ALL THE WAY back on the opposite side; and when she brings them down again…

Apologies for the motion blur but—Ahsoka moves to block and MISSES, which doesn’t matter because the blades were like a full foot away from actually making contact with her body. Barriss is striking at her lightsabers half the time for this first flurry of action, before letting Ahsoka break away for that salute. And this is not an animation error. TCW has plenty of those, but they know how to choreograph a lightsaber duel.

So the goal of this fight is very clearly not to kill Ahsoka. It’s to LOOK like she’s trying to kill Ahsoka, while mostly just trying to attract attention and act as much like Ventress as she possibly can.

As a result, Barriss spends a lot of the fight creating space. She pulls a sheet of metal down at Ahsoka, while gesturing dramatically to telegraph her intentions and give Ahsoka plenty of time to dodge:

And then she runs away to a higher level, letting Ahsoka pursue and then hiding.

This fucking pipe trick is NOT a Ventress thing, mind. This is 100% Mirialan using-the-environment bullshit and also, Barriss, a massive bitch move. We’re pointing it out mostly because of how dramatically Ahsoka JUMPS here. Because...listen, she’s better than this. She’s a wartime Padawan. She’s Anakin Skywalker’s wartime Padawan. She has way more duelling experience than a Jedi of her age normally would, and in a vacuum—in a normal sparring situation, where they’re both rested and prepared for it—Ahsoka would probably beat Barriss nine times out of ten in a duel.

This is anything but a vacuum. As we established, Ahsoka is firing on zero cylinders, she’s exhausted, she’s in the midst of a complete mental breakdown, she’s lost her offhand blade, and she doesn’t know the layout of the area like Barriss does. Ahsoka may be a more skilled and experienced duellist, but in this situation that means exactly fuckall. So Barriss runs rings around her.

So after the pipe trick—again a “cinematic” detail, something to ramp up the tension and sell the deception that otherwise has massive holes in it—Barriss gets in ONE solid blow.

Ahsoka’s off-balance, she’s blocking with both hands, Barriss could use her primary to slice under her guard—

At which point she does a FUCKING CARTWHEEL over the point of contact, which is not REMOTELY a Ventress thing, that is all Luminara Unduli all the time. That is the Mirialan Unnecessary Acrobatics Bonus Action.

And then again, a sloppy midsection slash that was nowhere near connecting and serves entirely to create space. A few more standard telegraphed blows.

And then what we generally refer to as the first turn in this duel.

Barriss roundhouse-kicks Ahsoka in the ribs hard enough to send her flying through a stack of boxes and bounce off the wall behind it. And that was an actual, solid injury. Ahsoka takes a moment to get back to her feet, clutching her side like she’s broken ribs, and her already-poor form takes even more of a dive after this. If Barriss wanted to, she easily could have killed Ahsoka here, but instead...

She backs off. Slowly and deliberately, making what’s very nearly a come-hither gesture with her offhand lightsaber.

And again—Ahsoka is better than this. She is smarter than this. This is such, such glaringly obvious BAIT. She’s being drawn deeper into the factory; Barriss is absolutely herding her, and she falls for it, because she’s not doing great right now.

(And of course Barriss is herding her. Thus far, there’s no actual evidence that Ventress was here except for Ahsoka’s word. For this deception to work there have to be witnesses. She has to attract attention.)

So she does a bunch of flippy bullshit (#Mirialans) to knock those barrels off, slowing Ahsoka down and tiring her out some more.

And when Ahsoka’s done playing Donkey Kong, she COMPLETELY crits on her spot check and does the exact thing that will get Anakin brutally dismembered in about a year. She flips onto the upper level, right past Barriss, who’s just sort of politely waiting for her to land and get her feet under her.

It...is genuinely heartbreaking, honestly, how out of it Ahsoka is during this fight.

And this is actually the second turn, because while it’s impossible to get a high-quality screenshot, this is the first moment where Barriss begins to show that she’s...getting a little too into this. Ahsoka flips onto the platform, and for several seconds she’s slashing wildly around herself while Barriss dodges...completely unarmed.

There’s a few more halfhearted exchanges of blows, culminating in Ahsoka’s only near-hit in this episode. And it comes CLOSE, too; she’s still Ahsoka Tano, after all. Barriss dodges this blow by inches, and Ahsoka impales her saber to the HILT in that support column.

At which point Barriss dodges around the other side of the column and, again, just...waits, for Ahsoka to come at her again.

(We honestly have no idea how so much of the fandom misses how INCREDIBLY staged this whole thing was, because it’s not subtle. The animators are brilliant. It’s fast-paced enough that it’s believable that AHSOKA would believe it, but when you actually watch what’s happening...)

Barriss does ANOTHER FUCKING backflip and they exchange a few more strikes, at which point Barriss pulls what’s actually the bitchiest move she pulls in this whole fight. But it’s also...one of the most interesting and lowkey AWFUL things. Because right now, she is still trying to be Ventress.

She slashes the gas canister open to set up the upcoming explosion, but she also times it so that Ahsoka gets blasted in the face with hot compressed gas that staggers her and briefly impairs Ahsoka’s vision. And that is...a move that we have seen Asajj Ventress use, onscreen, before.

Against Luminara.

The only possible way Barriss could know about this little compressed-steam trick of Ventress’ is through her master.

Barriss was not there for this fight. Barriss did not see this happen. But Luminara has, out loud, credited Ahsoka for saving her life in this fight—and rightly so, because Ventress came within inches of killing her multiple times during that fight and this was one of them. And Barriss would have to know that. And she just used it against Ahsoka.

In a fight, Luminara is a graceful Lady of War. Barriss Offee, on the other hand, is a stone-cold fucking bitch.

By the time of this arc Barriss is convinced that all of the Jedi have fallen, that they’re all in service to the dark side and just don’t see it, and in a lot of ways she’s right. But the fact is that Barriss Offee herself has fallen to the dark side personally in a way that most individual Jedi have not, and what happens next shows it.

Barrels Offee over here uses the Force to shove a bunch of explosives over the red-hot wounds left by her lightsabers and gets the pyrotechnics she was looking for.

And this is the final turn. Earlier, we noticed Barriss getting a little too into this fight, toying with Ahsoka, taunting her with that unarmed dodging; but she was still focused on her objective, still laying a stage for the most part.

And this is it. This is the objective.

By creating that explosion, she caught the attention of local authorities. There will be witnesses any moment now who will see her, wearing Ventress’ mask and holding Ventress’ lightsabers, standing in a munitions factory that Letta Turmond can be tied to. Ahsoka will testify that she went to investigate and Ventress came from behind to kill her, and suddenly everything will make sense.

Ahsoka...is out of the fight. She’s barely stirring, she’s not getting up. She doesn’t even have the strength to lift that sheet of metal; the only reason she’s able to BARELY get onto her hands and knees is that Barriss uses the Force to lift it off her.

Barriss got what she wanted.

And then she keeps going.

This is Barriss in the FULL grip of the Darkside Tango over here. She’s angry and scared and angry and something about that explosion was cathartic, and this is the point where the duel takes a sharp turn. Something...has changed, about Barriss’ demeanor, here.

She doesn’t appear to be thinking anymore.

This is the point at which this fight is...honestly, just hard to watch. It’s a beatdown. Barriss is now hurting Ahsoka on purpose, and for no other reason than to hurt her. She puts her ALL behind flinging a ragdolling, half-conscious Ahsoka into the wall so hard it shakes some of the steel loose. It’s brutal, and Barriss’ body language is cold and confident the whole time.

She is completely lost in the sauce on the Dark Side at this point.

The absolute worst thing from here on in is the way Ahsoka just…Keeps. Getting. Up.

She can barely stand at this point. She’s got her saber up trying to hold a guard position and she physically can’t. This is legitimately the worst Ahsoka’s ever gotten beaten in a fight in her life, and she knows it. She’s staggering. Her eyes aren’t even fully in focus.

Barriss doesn’t bother with actually fighting, because she doesn’t need to. She hits Ahsoka with a casual Force push to knock her back off her feet, and Ahsoka just cringes in anticipation of it because she knows she can’t defend herself properly.

And then there goes her lightsaber, tumbling over the edge, and she never holds it again until the Siege of Mandalore. That Weapon Is Her Life, and we never see it in its current form again.

And Ahsoka GETS UP AGAIN.

Ladies and gentlemen, our hero.

She is DOWN. She’s dead on her feet, she can’t even walk; she just sort of stumbles across the floor with her own momentum. But she is still SOMEHOW trying to square off with “Ventress.”

And this, right here? This is how we know exactly what Barriss’ mindset is right now, because Ahsoka never gives up. She just doesn’t. She’s the biggest cockroach in a universe containing Darth “Just A Flesh Wound” Maul. Ahsoka doesn’t just lie down and accept her fate. She doesn’t just let people win.

And Barriss...has.

There’s a viciousness in the way she ends this fight. Like, it’s Barriss—all of her fights are a little bit vicious. She is a BITCH when the chips are down. But this is...vindictive. From the moment Ahsoka trembles to her hands and knees after that explosion, the overwhelming cold cruelty Barriss shows from that moment until she spin-kicks Ahsoka down like two and a half stories of broken slats onto solid concrete is raw, bitter:

Will you just STAY DOWN for once in your FUCKING life?!

And we want to take a moment to give Ahsoka the dignity of acknowledging that she still doesn’t.

And then the GAR shows up, and Barriss really shows her true colors. Because the moment she hears Republic forces arriving...

Barriss runs.

We worry sometimes that because Barriss is our favorite character, people will think that means we think she’s justified in her actual actions in this arc, or that her worst actions are somehow not her fault. But let us be very clear: Barriss Offee fucked up royal and is entirely responsible for that.

The fact that it’s very clear she didn’t come into this fight with intent to kill, the fact that her actions are calculated to clear Ahsoka’s name, is the FURTHEST thing from absolution. Even as she tries to find a solution throughout this episode, it all stems from her original decision to frame Ahsoka for Letta’s murder rather than let Letta spill the beans. There’s a very, very simple solution to this mess, a simple way to clear Ahsoka’s name and make amends for the attack that Barriss regretted almost the moment it happened. But she consistently refuses to even consider it as an option.

Barriss Offee does not want to face the consequences of her actions.

She came into this to fix things, but when push comes to shove—she wants to save her own life. She wants to be a radical dissenter and still get to be the Jedi Padawan poster girl, and the security that comes with it. She doesn’t stick around to make sure she’s seen by witnesses because as evidenced by that brutal beatdown, she’s...stopped caring, that much. She doesn’t value Ahsoka’s life enough to risk her own anymore.

So when this fails, when the clones don’t see her and there’s no evidence to back up Ahsoka’s story that Ventress was the one behind it, when three words from Barriss would save her from a death she doesn’t deserve, Barriss says absolutely nothing until she’s compelled at lightsaber-point.

At the end of the day, this whole elaborate deception was only ever about one thing, and it wasn’t Ahsoka. It was the fact that Barriss Offee doesn’t want to get caught.

#barriss offee #ahsoka tano #to catch a jedi #tcw #star wars #IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS--

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mikauzoran · 4 years ago

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Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Four

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Four

When Adrien woke up, everything smelled fresh and clean, like fabric softener and laundry detergent.

He was warm and dry, and the bed, the covers, and his pyjamas were all comfortable and soft.

He’d been holding his cat plushie, Chat Noir the Third, when he’d fallen asleep, and C3 was still tucked under Adrien’s arm, fur fuzzy against Adrien’s skin.

It was comforting. In a way, it reminded him of Plagg and how they would sometimes snuggle.

Adrien rolled over onto his back and hugged C3 closer.

Grief and joy mingled in Adrien’s chest as he stared up at the clean, white ceiling.

The morning sun was pouring in through Adrien’s windows in a cheerful, inviting way that Adrien had never experienced in his old room with his old windows.

He was safe. He had a home—a real home this time.

It had been eleven years since he had last had a true home…since he’d lost his mother and the mansion had become silent, cold, and empty.

But now Adrien was home and safe and wanted.

He buried his face in C3’s fur, remembering what Luka had told him the previous day: Luka had bought C3 for Adrien so that he would remember he was loved.

It had been a long time since Adrien was last loved, and the prospect of getting something like that back was overwhelming.

He set C3 aside so that he wouldn’t get him dirty as he cried.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he was crying, if it were happiness or sadness or stress, but it felt good to get the emotions out.

When he was done, he sat up, cleaned his face with the tissues on the nightstand, and got out of bed, ready to do his best with the second chance he’d been given.

It felt amazing to get dressed in new, clean clothes with the knowledge that he could throw them in the laundry whenever he felt like it at no charge and that he didn’t have to sleep in them or wear them for multiple days at a time.

It was really nice to have a spacious, private bathroom with a door that locked where he didn’t have to worry about the sanitation.

Well��Luka’s bathroom was currently a mess with toothpaste and shaving cream smudges on the counter and mirror and grooming products left spread out all over the place. Used towels were scattered, crumpled on the floor, and the medicine cabinet was left open.

But Adrien wasn’t necessarily worried, unlike he had been when using other bathrooms where he didn’t even want to think about what kind of germs were growing on surfaces.

Once dressed, Adrien went to Luka’s door and listened for signs that his roommate was awake.

The apartment was still, and Adrien didn’t see any light peeking out from underneath the door, so he assumed that Luka was still sleeping and, instead, made his way to the kitchen.

It was a war zone that had been subsequently ravaged by flood, famine, and pestilence.

It was hard to believe that things could go to ruin in as few as six days, but Adrien was seeing the evidence with his own eyes. Luka was the comparatively neat and tidy Couffaine, but The Breakup had obviously laid him very low indeed.

Dishes were piled high in the sink and crusted with days-old food debris, so Adrien rinsed and scrubbed to the best of his ability before loading them all up in the dishwasher.

Hardly anything in the fridge was worth salvaging.

Adrien got out trash bags from under the sink and started checking dates. He sniffed the items that still resembled food and summarily tossed the ones that were more petri dish than pasta.

He cleared off the counters, sorting the refuse from the misplaced possessions and raided the cabinet below the sink for cleaning supplies.

Once the kitchen was spotless, he expanded his efforts to the living room, picking up the dirty clothes, junk food wrappers, and takeaway containers.

He located the mop, broom, and vacuum cleaner in the coat closet and set about sweeping, reasoning that he would vacuum the rug once Luka was awake so that he didn’t disturb him.

With the living room looking presentable, he gathered up the rubbish, dirty clothes, and items needing to be returned to their respective homes, putting each grouping in their own location to be dealt with later. He then moved on to the bathroom.

By the time he was done tidying and scrubbing, it was midmorning, and he was starting to get kind of hungry. When he’d woken up, he’d still been full from the ridiculous amount of food he’d eaten the day before, but after burning so many calories cleaning, his body was getting ready to eat again.

Luka still hadn’t emerged from his room, so Adrien left a note on the blank page of a sketchbook he had found while cleaning to let Luka know that he hadn’t run away. He was just grocery shopping.

He tore another empty page out of the sketchbook so that he could write up a list of the things he needed from the store.

There was a Monoprix just up the street from the apartment, so it took him less than an hour to walk there, shop, and make it back home again.

He picked up a croissant from the bakery section to snack on as he cooked breakfast but noted that it paled in comparison to what he remembered of those from Tom and Sabine’s.

Adrien was beginning to think that Luka was dead as he plated the food. It was almost noon, and Adrien hadn’t heard a peep.

Luka had looked exhausted the previous day, and he’d mentioned not sleeping well since The Breakup, so maybe he was just catching up on sleep, but Adrien had enough experience with depression to know that it was time to step in and drag his flatmate out of bed.

He knocked on the door, but there was no response.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and discovered it was unlocked.

“Luka, I’m going to be really mad if you’re actually dead,” Adrien grumbled, hesitantly pushing the door open. “Luka?”

Adrien blinked as he got his first glimpse at the inside of Luka’s bedroom.

It was even worse than the rest of the apartment, and that was saying something. Garbage and dirty clothes were strewn everywhere, and the floor was like a minefield of filth.

“Oh, Luka,” Adrien cooed, carefully making his way across the room to the bed. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

Luka snored softly, deaf to Adrien’s sympathy.

“Orpheus.” Adrien kept his voice quiet as he gently shook Luka’s shoulder, not wanting to startle his friend. “Luka? Hey. Wake up.”

Luka drew in a long breath, and his eyes slowly blinked open.

He stared up at Adrien in a daze.

“Angel,” he whispered, reaching out to stroke Adrien’s cheek.

Adrien was torn between enjoying the attention immensely and feeling guilty about it because Luka was obviously still out of it.

“You are not awake,” Adrien chuckled, carefully removing Luka’s palm from his face. “Earth to Luka. Come in, Luka.”

Luka gave a jolt as he blinked and his eyes came into focus. “Oh my gosh. Adrien. Sorry. Hi. What’s wrong? Did you need something?”

“It’s breakfast time. Get up,” Adrien teased, tugging on Luka’s arm lightly.

Luka cursed under his breath. “I am so sorry. Give me just a minute and I’ll go to the grocery store and then make you some breakfast.”

Adrien snorted in laughter. “No need. It is I who have made you breakfast. Come eat before it gets cold.”

Luka blinked at Adrien. “You what?”

“I made omuraisu,” Adrien explained with a pleased smile.

“You what?” Luka repeated, wondering if his ears were failing him.

His Adrien didn’t cook.

“I’m twenty-four,” Adrien enunciated. “I make my own breakfast. Now, get up or I’m seriously climbing in bed with you and pushing you out.”

“…You made breakfast?” Luka echoed in disbelief as he followed Adrien toward the door.

“Yep,” Adrien confirmed with a pop to the p. “I’ve worked in a lot of kitchens these past few years. The chefs taught me some things.”

They stepped out into the living room, and Luka had to do a doubletake. “Faeries came during the night and cleaned the apartment.”

Adrien cracked up. “I mean…it’s not like this is the first time someone’s ever called me a faerie, but…I prefer the term ‘knight in leather armor’.”

Luka gawked at Adrien. “You cleaned the apartment?”

His Adrien wouldn’t know what to do with a broom if his life depended on it…unless he needed to use the broom as a weapon. His Adrien had that covered, but to use a broom for its intended purpose…

Adrien came to a stop in the kitchen, pushing one of the plates of omuraisu towards Luka.

“Surprise,” he announced softly, a sad expression in his eyes that made him look older than Luka had ever remembered. “I’m a functional, responsible adult now too.”

“Yeah,” Luka breathed, looking at Adrien with new eyes. “You went and grew up on me, didn’t you?”

He pulled Adrien into a tight hug, and Adrien squeezed back.

“I had to get it together pretty quickly,” Adrien confessed bitterly. “I cook, clean, do laundry… I even scrub toilets now.”

Luka pulled back, looking mortified. “Please tell me you didn’t clean the bathroom.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Adrien assured.

Luka dropped his forehead to Adrien’s shoulder and let out an animalistic groan. “I am so, so sorry. I swear I was going to clean everything today.”

“I know. I believed you when you kept telling me so last night,” Adrien informed. “It was just that you were completely wiped out, and I saw an opportunity to be helpful.”

Adrien took Luka’s face in his hands and tipped it up to look him in the eye. “This isn’t like before when I’d sneak out and come visit you when I was upset. I may still be a mess, but you’re a wreck too at the moment, and, now, I’m able to help and support you too.”

“Don’t sound so pleased about me being a disaster,” Luka chuckled, horrified and amused all at once.

“I promise I’m not. I’m just glad that I can finally do something for you after all you’ve done for me.” Adrien gave Luka a sincere smile and then stepped back to focus on his food. “Eat your breakfast already.”

Luka sighed, resigning himself to this alternate universe where his Adrien was fully capable of taking care of himself.

“Thank you,” he stressed, digging into the omuraisu. “…Geez, this is good!”

Adrien smirked around his fork. “Told you so.”

“What else can you make?” Luka wondered through a mouthful of rice and egg.

“I specialize in ethnic food,” Adrien preened. “I do desserts passably too, so maybe tomorrow I can make tiramisu and chickpea coconut cashew curry.”

Luka bit his tongue to stop himself from confessing his eternal love to Adrien because it was way too soon after The Breakup to be developing feelings for anyone. Besides, Adrien was vulnerable; Luka would be taking advantage of Adrien’s dependency on him if he made any kind of move.

He never wanted Adrien to feel pressured into anything for fear of winding up back on the street again.

Instead of the declaration of love, Luka smiled gratefully. “I’m really, really glad you came back into my life yesterday.”

Adrien paused, looking taken aback for a moment, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. “You like curry that much?”

“It’s not just about the curry,” Luka chuckled. “Thank you for all of this.”

“Sure.” Adrien returned the smile with a grin full of pride. “I’m not even done yet. I still have your room to clean.”

“No,” Luka groaned. “I can clean my own room.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m going to help you,” Adrien informed in a tone that told Luka he would not be backing down. “You can tell me what you don’t want me touching, but I can at least help sort the trash from the dirty clothes from the dishes from the stuff that just needs to be put away.”

“I will consider letting you help,” Luka conceded through gritted teeth.

“Perfect!” Adrien chirped cheerily. “…So, I didn’t start any laundry yet because I wasn’t sure what your preferences were, but this evening after we sort through the stuff in your room, you can tell me how you want your laundry done, and I can work on that while you hide your dirty magazines or whatever.”

Luka rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure that Adrien remembered that Luka was demi and didn’t experience sexual attraction unless he had a strong emotional connection with someone and, therefore, had no need for dirty magazines. They’d talked a lot about sexuality when Adrien was sixteen/seventeen and trying to figure things out. Adrien didn’t have trusted adults to talk to, and Luka was actually really honored that Adrien had come to him.

“I will consider letting you help with laundry,” Luka repeated with a shake of his head.

“Great. So…status update,” Adrien prattled right along, leaning his forearms on the counter as he consumed his omuraisu. “I gathered all the trash and piled it up in bags by the door because I didn’t know what the building’s trash collection procedure was.”

“We can take it down to the dumpster on our way out the door to band practice,” Luka replied.

“Cool.” Adrien nodded, taking in the information. “I also piled all the clothing articles in two heaps over by the couch….” He hesitated, biting his bottom lip. “…Not all of the clothes are yours. I can wash them and fold them up in a trash bag so you don’t have to see them, if you’d like.”

Luka winced. “…I don’t know right now. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Adrien rushed to assure. “I’ll just go ahead and do that, and then you can deal with them whenever you’re ready.”

“I really hope there wasn’t anything too embarrassing,” Luka groaned.

Adrien grimaced. “You both have impeccable taste in underwear?”

“I want to die,” Luka replied with an ironic smile.

“It seriously wasn’t a big deal,” Adrien stressed. “…Though, I wasn’t able to determine as easily what was yours as far as possessions go, so I just lined them up neatly against the wall out of the way. I hope that was okay? You don’t have to go through them anytime soon. They can just wait until you’re ready.”

Luka reached out and rested a hand on Adrien’s bicep. “Thank you.”

Adrien placed his hand over Luka’s and smiled. “What are friends for?”

“For times like this,” Luka hummed, feeling blessed.

There was a beat, and then Adrien went back to his status update. “I cleaned out the fridge and went shopping for the essentials, but we’ll need to shop again tonight or tomorrow for the rest of the week. Also, I bought a cheap rice cooker. I hope that’s okay. I had a rice cooker up until a few months ago, and I used to cook all kinds of things in it. I can do a lot with a rice cooker.”

Luka grinned, watching Adrien fondly as he animatedly recounted his rice cooker culinary adventures.

Adrien had slipped so easily into Luka’s life, making himself indispensable in less than twenty-four hours. It left Luka wondering what he’d been doing without Adrien for the past four years.

“Émile!” Josie cried, sprinting across the bar and enveloping Adrien in a fierce hug.

Luka, smiling fondly, stepped around them and went over to get the things he’d left with Jacob the previous day from the bassist. “Glad to know I mean nothing to you, Josie.”

Josie ignored Luka, focusing all of her enthusiasm on Adrien. “Look at you! You clean up nice, Kid! Look at your little baby face! You are the cutest thing. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Josie,” Adrien chuckled, hugging her back with genuine affection.

Luka couldn’t stop grinning because Adrien was adorable. He got attached to people so quickly.

Jacob looked back and forth between Luka and Adrien and quirked an eyebrow quizzically. “You two came together?” he whispered so only Luka would hear.

“He’s actually my roommate now,” Luka confessed, wanting to get this conversation over sooner rather than later.

Jacob’s eyes bugged out. “Dude. You work fast,” he hissed. “You’re already shacked up?”

“No.” Luka winced. “It’s not like that. It’s completely platonic. He just needed a place to stay.”

Jacob nodded, not believing that for a second. “Right.”

“Émile!” Marc greeted, leaving his guitar propped against his keyboard on stage to go give Adrien a hug. “Hey, Kiddo. I did get your text with your phone number. Sorry I didn’t text back. I read it right away, but I was in the middle of burning food, and I completely forgot.”

“No worries,” Adrien assured, returning the hug and absolutely loving it. “So long as you got the message.”

Luka promptly shoved down the little niggling of jealousy that sprouted up at seeing Adrien being affectionate with another guy.

Josie quickly distracted him as she came over and hung off of his shoulder. “You don’t look like crap today.”

“Thank you?” Luka frowned, trying to decide whether to be insulted.

“He said Émile needed a place to stay, so he moved in with him yesterday,” Jacob reported, looking at Josie expectantly.

Josie’s eyes went wide. “Wow. Very opportunist. You get any yet?”

Luka swatted her away. “It’s platonic. I just broke up with The Girl, guys. I am not jumping into anything for a very long time.”

“Are you trying to say that my baby brother isn’t good enough for you to seduce?” Josie snorted, doing a very good job of actually looking offended.

Luka threw his hands up in frustration. “You know, I was having a good day until I had to deal with you two clowns.”

“Émile!” Jacob waved as Adrien and Marc came over to join them. “Sup, Kid?” He opened his arms for a hug which Adrien readily gave.

“Hey, Jacob.” Adrien smiled nervously as he pulled back, reaching up to rub at his neck. “I actually have something I need to tell everyone.”

The band’s expressions suddenly went serious.

“What’s up, Émile?” Josie prompted gently.

Adrien took a deep breath. “That isn’t actually my real name.”

Luka’s eyes widened, and he reached out to rest a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “You sure you’re ready to do this now?”

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. They’ve shown me nothing but kindness. I don’t want to lie to them.”

“Is your real name ‘Adrien’?” Marc inquired.

Everyone looked to him in surprise.

Adrien blinked. “You knew?”

Josie and Jacob turned to Marc with twin frowns.

“How’d you know that?” Jacob demanded.

Marc shook his head. “I wasn’t sure. I just thought you kind of looked like the billboards I used to see all the time.”

“Billboards?” Josie echoed, arching an eyebrow.

“My name is really Adrien,” Adrien confessed. “Adrien Agreste.”

Jacob blinked. “That…sounds familiar?”

“I used to be a model,” Adrien elaborated. “Especially about ten years ago my face was on everything. You couldn’t get away from the advertisements if you tried…. I’m also known more notoriously as Gabriel Agreste’s son,” Adrien informed, gaze directed intently down at his shoes. “You know. Papillon.”

Jacob promptly pushed Luka out of the way and wrapped his arms around Adrien, announcing, “Just so you all know, this is mine now.”

“I don’t think so,” Josie huffed, coming to join the puppy pile. “I saw him first, but if I get caught when I sneak into jail to assassinate his father, you’d sure as hell better take care of him for me.”

She turned to Adrien (who looked very, very confused).

“You’re adopted,” she declared, her voice just on the right side of calm even as it came out clipped and furious. “There’s no way you’re actually related to that slimewad. He akumatized my little sister when she was being bullied, and there is no way you’re related to him. Besides, like I keep saying, we are officially adopting you now.”

Marc reached out a hand to rest on Adrien’s shoulder. “We’re here for you. Promise.”

“People…don’t usually react like that,” Adrien hiccupped. “They usually want nothing to do with me when they find out who I am.”

“People suck,” Jacob reported. “Obviously, they didn’t put much effort into finding out who you really are because, if they had, they would have discovered that you’re a precious baby who deserves to be loved and protected.”

Adrien turned to Luka with a watery smile. “You pick good people.”

Luka grinned. “I picked you, didn’t I?”

The whole group besides Adrien groaned.

Adrien only smiled.

“…So why ‘Émile Dupain’?” Josie inquired as they slowly pulled away.

“‘Émile’ is actually my second name,” Adrien explained. “I was named after my mom.”

Everyone nodded, making cooing, “that’s so sweet” noises.

“‘Dupain’ I stole from a friend,” he confessed with a blush that made Luka narrow his eyes. “It was the most common surname out of all of my friends, so… Plus, it was like taking a little piece of home with me while I roamed around.”

They all cooed again.

“Wait. Hold up.” Jacob turned and pointed to Luka just as the conversation was about to shift. “He’s not surprised about any of this. Did you tell him already yesterday?”

Adrien bit his lip, smiling guiltily. “I’ve known Luka for about a decade now, actually. I didn’t recognize him yesterday until we were outside on the street, though. He still had blue hair when I last saw him.”

“Man, I dated him when he had the blue hair,” Jacob sighed, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have let him go so easily if I had known the black hair upgrade was coming.”

“Hey,” Luka grumbled. “I looked good with blue hair. It went with my eyes.”

“I actually think the black offsets your eyes better,” Adrien hummed thoughtfully. “The black makes the blue pop. I like it like this.”

Luka’s brain broke. “O-Oh? You think so?”

Marc put a hand over his mouth, holding in a laugh. “He’s never going to dye his hair again.”

Josie opened her mouth to quip, but then she caught the soft, warm, gooey way Luka was looking at Adrien.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Holy crap! He’s Adrien!”

Adrien gave a start, suddenly very worried. “Uh…yes? I thought…that was okay?”

She waved her arms, shooing away his concerns. “No. The thing with your father is fine. I meant that you’re Adrien. Luka’s Adrien!”

Jacob’s jaw dropped. “He’s The Boy!?”

Adrien looked to Luka for reassurance, quite obviously anxious at something he had no way of understanding.

Luka grimaced and wrapped a comforting arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “Yes,” he said pointedly. “He’s the dear friend I’ve mentioned many times to you.”

Jacob scoffed under his breath at that.

Marc decided to stay out of it.

“I really was worried about you while you were away,” Luka explained to Adrien. “I may have been a little preoccupied.”

Slowly, Adrien began to nod, thinking he understood. “Sorry again for worrying you.”

“He survived,” Marc assured, beckoning Adrien over to the stage. “He was a real mess for a while, though.”

Josie hung back, giving Luka a skeptical look. “You moved in with The Boy a week after breaking up with The Girl?”

Luka shrugged helplessly. “It’s platonic.”

“You make questionable life decisions,” Jacob snorted. “You’re screwed.”

“He’s going to wish he were,” Josie sighed. “Does your sister know that you’ve set yourself up for total emotional annihilation by platonically moving in with The Boy a week after your breakup with The Girl?”

“Adrien isn’t ready to tell people he’s back in Paris yet, so don’t you dare say anything to Juleka,” Luka growled protectively, getting his friends’ attention.

They shared a look and then held their hands up in surrender.

“We’re just worried about you, Dude,” Jacob clarified sympathetically.

Luka sighed, all the hot air coming out of him. “I’m kind of worried about me too,” he confessed.

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Fluff #Hurt/Comfort #Slow Burn #Friends to Lovers #Flirting #Pining #Mutual Pining #Roommates #Mikau's Writings #Zebras Can't Change Their Stripes

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thebalkanwitch · 4 years ago

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New Moon in Gemini!

Solar Eclipse!

Sit back (lay down actually 😆) and take it all in.

This energy is all over the place and the best advice I have is to ride the wave(s).

I felt compelled to CLEAN.

Serious, deep cleaning.

Move furniture and reorganize my closets type of CLEAN.

This was confirmed when I tuned into my good friend @truenorthwitch ig live this morning and she said CLEAN!

So that seems to be the overriding message today: Cleanse. Smudge. Purify. Rest.

Generally, we tend to manifest and set intentions during the new moon. Because this particular lunar phase falls on an eclipse, most people would recommend that you do not “start” anything at this time. I don’t like to tell people what to do (I can only give my opinion based on my personal experiences), and my advice has always been and continues to be FOLLOW YOUR GUT.

If you are called to clean, then CLEAN. If you are compelled to perform a ritual, then do the ritual. Listen to yourSELF and do what feels right. I understand the logic behind not wanting to attempt to harness this wildcard (eclipse) energy but who am I to say you can’t? Honestly, isn’t that what drew so many of us to witchcraft in the first place? The freedom and ability to practice however we choose to practice? To explore and feel our spirituality in a manner that relates to us and feels completely genuine? I know for myself, I was raised in a religion that had many rules and I constantly felt riddled with guilt and forced myself into a box that wasn’t true to me… but that’s another story for another time 😅

The point is, cleaning is always a good idea.

Rest is always a good idea.

Taking a moment to be still and open to receiving any messages is always a good idea.

So if you’re not sure what to do today or feel like you WANT to do something but are hesitant to perform any rituals, my suggestion is to CLEAN. Throw open your windows (it thankfully cooled off here and there’s a lovely breeze so hello perfect timing!), change your sheets, vacuum/Swiffer/sweep/dust, refold your linens/towels and clean your bathroom and kitchen. Especially your kitchen. Initially, we think of bathrooms as the grossest place in our homes, but think about it: the kitchen is exponentially worse, especially if you eat or handle meat (nobody gets salmonella from toothpaste spatters on their medicine cabinet mirror 🤣). So, clean the fridge and sweep the corners. Light some incense and clear out that stagnant energy! We are toward the end of Mercury Retrograde as well so be mindful of typical retrograde affects increasing during this time.

Keywords: clean, rest, receive

Be mindful of: mercury retrograde mishaps

Use: Cleanse (please note, there are multiple ways of cleansing your space/altars/tools; white sage is not the be-all end-all of smudge sticks). You can use rosemary (smells amazing), cedar/pine (also love the smell), basil, mint (seriously, all these smell incredible). There are also liquid alternatives if you’re not a fan of smoke or need to be discreet. Florida water, lemon/rosemary water, vinegar, etc are all fantastic alternatives to sage. I like to put a little vinegar and water in a spray bottle and go to town. It cleans everything and the smell disappears quickly.

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odcservicesagencylondon · 3 years ago

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Will dust get spread throughout my home during the process?

When I think about getting a good clean, I think about how the process would affect the environment and whether or not I could be responsible for pollution or even worse (dirt! ), so I naturally assume that I won't be doing it or that someone else will be doing it.

But when you think about the benefits of getting duct cleaning services in Canada, you might be surprised!

A: No! The air duct cleaning technicians in Canada use high-pressure streams of compressed air to draw out all the dust and grime from your ducts and other ventilation systems inside the house. The only thing they can't do is mix chemicals with the air.

If there is dust in your house, no matter how clean it is, there will be dust particles that will be drawn into the compressed air stream. So there is absolutely no danger from the chemicals during the air duct cleaning process.

However, not all homes are able to handle high pressure air duct cleaning equipment. If you have ducts in your home, you should consider calling a professional cleaner to take care of the duct cleaning for you. You'll find that some people simply have to deal with a dirty air duct system on their own.

For others, however, duct cleaning can be too intimidating or simply too much work for them to deal with on their own. When you call in a professional air duct cleaner from ontarioductcleaning.ca/locations/duct-cleaning-services-london in Canada, you can be sure that the ducts will be cleaned properly and safely.

Why might dust get onto my freshly cleaned floors during the dusting process?

There are many different reasons why this can happen. One of those reasons is that when you vacuum your floors, you might not be wiping the entire surface of the floor evenly.

That's okay if you're just sweeping up the cobwebs off the floor, but what about all the tiny dust particles? They've gotten ground into the pad and into the carpet and they've become embedded in the pad itself. Over time, they can build up and make the entire floor feel cold.

Another question you may have is - if the air ducts are cleaned correctly, why would dust come through the exhaust fan and then throughout the rest of the house?

Vacuuming the floors first will ensure that dust doesn't make it onto your carpet or your hardwood floors. Once you have finished with vacuuming, you can leave the machine on as it's working to draw out dust and dirt from your house.

The reason that dust makes it through the exhaust system is that it goes up through the vents and into the ducts. If you've done any DIY projects in your garage or house, you probably saw a bit of dust there as well. It's actually pretty easy for some dust to get into your air ducts.

Especially if you've ever tried to clean a leaky pipe or something similar. When you're dealing with an engine, particularly if its an older one, this type of dust can travel quite a distance, spreading throughout your entire home.

If the machine is running, you probably aren't even noticing dust anymore. But how does it get into the home?

Well, most of it comes from small flakes, nuts and other things that you kick out of the machine or crush when you're using it. If you open up your vacuum cleaner bag, you'll find that it has tiny little glass beads or specks of dust floating around.

They come from the bag being blown around in the air while the machine is working. They can also be tiny pieces of debris that are kicked out of other parts of the machine or collected inside the bag after it's vacuumed up.

So where do you go to stop this from happening to your home?

You can buy a Dust Extraction System or a Dust Blower machine to clean up the dust in your home. They both clean up the dust that has built up but also remove large quantities of dust without wasting your time.

They can be used in either your garage or house and even in your work area. Just make sure you have one of these units in your home when you need it the most!

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monsterthorst · 5 years ago

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Okay, so, I have a couple dialogue ideas, possibly for a werewolf or just some kind of canine like demon. “Sit.” “What?” “I said; ‘SIT!’” Or “Umm... what if I told you that was my fault...?” I kinda imagine it’s an argument kinda situation where one of them is clearly trying to take control of the situation by either making the other sit and shut up, or to carefully ease the other into claiming down? I dunno- I lost my train of thought.

Ooooh, okay, interesting. Hmmmm, this is new and kind of short for me, but I hope you still like it! Apologies for the delay; finals started for me and shew, I WRETCH. Anyways, please welcome to the stage: Jaxon, your local good boy. ALSO! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Jaxon- Dialogue Prompt(s)

A roar of pure, unadulterated fury shook the very foundations of the house, you and the glass, half-full cup in front of you included. The bellow formed the sound of your name and you winced, neck and chin taking cover in the turtle neck of your sweater as you waited for the beast to find you. You heard aggressive stomping, followed by the sound of a door opening, a swear, and then an ear-shattering slam behind it. If his anger hasn’t been directed at you, this would have been absolutely hilarious; whenever he was truly angered, Jaxon seemed to forget the layout of his own home, struggling to find his way from room to room as if he hadn’t lived in it since his late teens.

Finally, after what seemed like tense ages, Jaxon finally found you, his blue eyes burning with fury as he fixed you with an accusing stare, “You!”

“Yes, my love…?” You chirped, absolute honey and sugar laced your words and the giant of a man scoffed.

“Don’t you ‘my love’ me today, you brat!” Jaxon snarled, his body seemed to literally fume with his fury and, if the steam rising from his shoulders was anything to go by, you could safely say you were in deep, deep shit. “Look at this!” Jaxon held up the object of his foul mood and watched you expectantly; waiting for what, you couldn’t say for sure.

You wiped the sweat along your palms on your pant legs and smiled nervously, “My, what a lovely silver dagger… Should I be scared?” You laughed awkwardly at your own joke, trying to find some way-any way of getting out of this pit you’d accidentally dug yourself into.

“‘Silver dagger’!? You know EXACTLY what this is, and you know EXACTLY what’s wrong with it too!” Jaxon yelled down at you. He stepped forward, nearing your spot on the couch and seeming to grow bigger and angrier all the while.

You reached forward and grabbed the warm mug of hot chocolate with a wobbling grin, cupping it in your hands like some sort of protective charm, “I-is that so? It looks fine to me.”

Jaxon growled low in the back of his throat at you, blue fire rolled within his eyes as he shouted, “‘FINE’!?! LOOK AT THE HANDLE!!”

He shoved the handle of the knife directly in front of your face and you didn’t need to look at it to know what was wrong. The handle of the dagger in which the cycles of the moon were intricately and beautifully carved, their design ancient and sacred, was cracked right down the middle; the silver of the blade could be seen through the massive crack and you could also see dried white glue within the crevices, a clear sign that someone had tried to fix it with hot glue previous to this confrontation. But this was not your fault.

How were you supposed to know he’d ever pick up the damn thing? It was a holy heirloom, passed down for generations within his family, that had been carved from the blessed wood of the ancient Moon Tree of legends- it was so sacred that you had never even seen Jaxon hold it before so why now? And, for once, you hadn’t even been snooping around either; you had been trying to be a good girlfriend, a good housemate. You were cleaning his room for him!

Simple dusting, sweeping, vacuuming, fixing his bedsheets. That’s when you got to the dresser at the far end of his room, it was dank and so dusty you didn’t even know what it’s actual color was. So, with a pleased smile at the thought of how happy with you Jaxon would be, you began to take everything off of the dresser, but that’s when everything went downhill. You moved to grab the dagger off of the shelf, wiping the dust off of the top of its glass case, when some tractor trailer pulled its Jake-Brake down the highway and shot true terror through your body. It had simply slipped through your fingers, that was all.

After fifteen minutes of crying and cursing and burning your fingers with hot glue, the dagger seemed almost exactly the same… Well, no, it didn’t. Not really. But you tried and he never touched it anyway, right? He’d never notice, RIGHT?

Wrong. You realized as you winced up into Jaxon’s mutating face, very wrong.

“That looks bad.” Was all you could manage, your mouth felt dry as you sweat bullets under your sweater.

Jaxon pulled at his growing, black hair, his nails elongating and turning black as he spoke, “‘Bad’?”

You laughed anxiously again, squeezing the mug in your hands for some sort of purchase on reality, “Yeah, ‘bad’. Is there an echo in here or something? Hehehe…”

“‘BAD’ DOESN’T BEGIN TO COVER THIS!!!” Jaxon howled, pointing his claws down at you, “What happened!?!”

You chuckled under your breath, your voice bouncing like a teenage boys, “Well, uhmm, what if… I told you that was my fault…?”

Silence. You’ve never been so afraid of silence before.

The entire room erupted after that, Jaxon threw his head back and roared at the top of his lungs. His entire body pulsed and rolled beneath his skin as he grew taller, stronger, deadlier; before long, an entire beast stood before you, saliva drooling down his maw and full moons of blue blinked down at you.

You set the mug down in front of you with slightly shaking hands, “Come now, Jaxon. It’s alright.”

“NO! THIS IS NOT ALRIGHT!! HOW DARE YOU!?” You scowled up at him at that. “YOU DARE GO INTO MY ROOM, SEARCH THROUGH MY THINGS, BREAK THEM!! YOU’RE WORSE THAN A CHILD!! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!!!”

You stomped up at that, shoulders squaring up against the towering creature before you, “Excuse me!? How dare YOU!? You come in here and yell at me without giving me a chance to explain or apologize! Then you call ME a child while you stand there throwing a tantrum, AND I’M THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE ASHAMED!?”

Jaxon roared in your face then, he rose to his full height, his long ears brushing the ceiling, and began to reach for you like you were a pet who needed to be punished. A ‘pet’? That threw you over the line and, before you knew what was coming out of your mouth, you screamed, “SIT!!!”

Jaxon froze, his claws inches from your face and eyes as wide as saucers, “What… What did you say?”

“I said: SIT!!” You yelled at him again, slamming your foot down against the floor to emphasize your point. Maybe that action had been childish, but he started it!

Jaxon stayed silent for a moment, observing you with unreadable blue eyes, before he began to chuckle, quietly under his breath. His laughter evolved into a full bellow and the werewolf grabbed his stomach, tossing his head back onto his shoulders as he slowly began to shrink back down to normal(which was still many inches taller than most). He flopped back onto the couch once he was done with an amused sigh, “‘Sit’…”

“I don’t know what’s funnier,” Jaxon said with a grin in your direction, “The fact you thought that would work or the fact that it almost did!”

You sighed with relief as Jaxon began to laugh once again, you dropped back onto the couch and stared at him for a moment before you huffed, “That was horrifying, you know.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Jaxon smiled softly over at you, his blue irises swam with affection, “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that, I was just upset. That dagger’s really important to me, but I still shouldn’t have exploded at you like that. I’m sorry.”

“No! I’m sorry!” You leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed with sadness, “It was my fault! I shouldn’t have been in your room, I was just trying to clean up for you. It was an accident, I promise! I’d never break something so special to you, I was really trying to be careful, I swear!”

Jaxon listened to you ramble with his typical level of unending patience(much unlike the behavior he had just demonstrated) before he grabbed your hand and ran his rough thumb over your knuckles, “I know, thank you for explaining. I’ll try to let you get to that part next time.”

“I won’t be doing any more cleaning in your room anyway, so there won’t be a next time.” You said with a pout

Jaxon laughed at that and grabbed your cheek in between his fingers, squeezing the soft skin there with a smile, “There’ll always be a next time. You’re basically a black cat crossing the street, you know that?”

You glared at Jaxon at that, sticking your tongue out at an awkward angle as a result of his hold on your face. He stuck his tongue out back at you, “But that doesn’t matter. You know why?” You shook your head ‘no’, “Because no matter what happens, or what you break, we’ll always work it out. I love you.”

The ‘L’ word, THE ‘L’ WORD! HE SAID THE ‘L’ WORD!!

Your face grew hot as you let Jaxon rub circles into your cheek with his thumb, a completely love-struck expression fell across his face and you buried your face in his hand, “I know… Your quick-to-calm personality and my stubbornness seem to be made for each other. Besides!” You bounced up, turning your head away from Jaxon with a cough, “Regardless of whatever mistakes you or I make, you’re stuck with me! Because- because… I LOVE YOU TOO!”

“Hmm,” Jaxon traced his fingers along your neck and shoulder with a pleasant hum, “‘Stuck’. I think I quite like the sound of that…”

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Oop! That escalated and then deescalated REALLY fast, I’m so sorry! I’ve never written these before and I felt like it was getting too long for most of the “dialogue prompts” I read so I tried to wrap it up sweetly, but I feel like I cut it up really fast and awkwardly. I’m sorry, I hope you still like it!!!

#monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #sfw #dialogue prompts #creature x reader #creature #werewolf boyfriend #werewolf #werewolf x reader #Jaxon’s a good boy #asks open

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iplaywithstring · 4 years ago

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years ago, back when I first got sick - before I even had a diagnosis - I was babysitting in my home. My kids were young - my daughter was 3 and my son was not quite two - and it made more sense for me to take kids in than to pay for childcare and get a job (plus I was debating a career change and getting a new degree, so there was that). I babysat another boy the same age as my son full time and a neighbours son who was about a year old part time.

When I first had symptoms - the fatigue and the dizzyness mostly - I blamed it on being an over tired parent, not being active enough, etc. My Dr told me I was anemic and over weight and needed to do more. Since the problem was actually ME/CFS, doing more actually made things worse. It was all I could do to keep the kids fed, safe, and occupied - and they were, they were never in any danger and they were well cared for. The other things - tidying toys, doing dishes through the day - did start to get skipped. I’d sweep up after lunch and run a steam mop during nap time, but that was about all I could manage. The mom of the full time kid started giving me a hard time about how untidy the house was. Her son napped in my room, so occasionally she’d been up there and seen the unmade bed and the laundry all over the place. She noticed the stairs only got vacuumed once a week at most (my husband did it on the weekends), and that dishes would pile up through the day (but they got done every night before my husband went to bed). She called it disgusting. She said if I didn’t do better she’d have to pull her son. I was scared she’d call child protection on me because of how gross I apparently was. One of my biggest regrets is not standing up to her and explaining the situation. I shouldn’t have been babysitting at that point - I can see that now, but at the time we didn’t know what was wrong. She offered to help me clean, so then all I’d have to do is stay on top of it. She spent two days basically telling me what I slob I was. Looking back, it wasn’t that bad. There was no rotting food or anything like that, just more dust and dirt than typical. I wish I had told her no. I wish I had told her to find other care for her son. The other family I babysat for had no issues with the house - I asked them (well, first I apologized, then they wanted an explanation of what was going on, then I asked them if they agreed with her assessment). That happened 10 years ago, and I realize now that keeping my house clean is still a huge point of insecurity for me. It’s one of the things that I am likely to push myself to do, even during plague times when no one is coming over. I’ve given up on getting it all done in one day, but I have a lot of negative self-talk if all of the big things don’t get done in a certain time frame. I internalized a lot of the awful things that were said, and I haven’t really gotten over that.

#saying this after scrubbing my floors #which hadn't been done in too long #and I was saying lots of unkind things to myself about myself because of it #even though it really wasn't a big deal #it causes a huge anxiety cycle for me when things aren't done right #so even asking for help is difficult #I guess it's time to work through that #and maybe let myself off the hook a bit #chronic illness #me/cfs #parenting while sick

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ma-sulevin · 5 years ago

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otp questions

Tagged by @chyrstis! Doing Sharky and Mattie for this one...

(art by @ziorre)

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Neither one of them really yells at the other one. Sharky’s voice is naturally louder, but Mattie’s more likely to speak sharply.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither of them. Mattie wouldn’t threaten that because it’s mean, and it would really hurt Sharky’s feelings, and threatening that would never cross Sharky’s mind.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Neither.

Who trashes the house? Sharky’s naturally messier. If Mattie was away for a while, he’d forget to clean up after himself the whole time and spend HOURS before she showed back up trying to make sure everything’s perfect again.

Do either of them get physical? Never ever. Sharky would rather die than hit his partner, and Mattie would leave the second that ever happened.

How often do they argue/disagree? Not super often? They have minor disagreements occasionally, mostly about how to handle life in the post-apocalyptic world.

Who is the first to apologize? Sharky. Usually, he’s just sad about it and wants them to be done arguing, and whatever they were disagreeing about isn’t important enough for them to keep going with it.

SEX

Who is on top? Sharky’s the penetrating partner, but Mattie’s more dominant.

Who is on the bottom? See above!

Who has the strangest desires? We all know who has the weird desires in a Sharky ship.

Any kinks? Not in particular? Sharky’s up for almost anything, but he’s not going to bring it up if he thinks Mattie won’t like it. Mmm, I forgot some stuff I decided Sharky likes, but it’s gross and I’m not talking about it.

Who’s dominant in bed? Mattie for sure.

Is head ever in the equation? Like, all the time.

If so, who is better at performing it? It’s not that Mattie’s bad, it’s just that Sharky’s really, really good.

Ever had sex in public? Not where people could catch them, but they’ve definitely had sex outside. Like, a lot. Especially once they’re living their best post-bunker lives.

Who moans the most? They’re both loud and gross.

Who leaves the most marks? Sharky for sure. He likes to see the evidence that they’ve been together, and he likes that she’s proud to show them off a little.

Who is the more experienced of the two? Sharky’s had more partners, but Mattie’s probably had more sex.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Make love, mostly

Rough or soft? Usually soft, but not always. Sometimes you just gotta fuck.

How long do they usually last? I'm not really sure how to answer this? As long as it takes, I guess. Sometimes they like to tease.

Is protection used? Mattie’s not on any hormonal birth control. They use condoms until the condoms run out, and then they just try to make sure Sharky pulls out. Uh, they have a whole baby when they make it back out into the real world.

Does it ever get boring? Never.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Things don’t really get weirder than in the bunker with Sharky’s whole family.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/or have children? They both wanted kids eventually, but they didn’t want them as soon as they had one. Harrison was definitely an accident, and Mattie doesn’t exactly love being pregnant. Sharky likes it more than she does, honestly.

If so, how many children do they want/have? They end up with four. Harrison who was the accident, then they on purpose have Ian, Ripley, and Max all about four or so years apart.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Both of them! They are so gross about it. Disgusting.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? They’re both always down to clown.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Mattie, but Sharky’s not exactly upset about it.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Sharky sometimes gets too hot, but he doesn’t want to tell her to go away. They both soak it right up.

Who gives the most kisses? Mattie loves those smooches.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? They like cuddling and just hanging out together. They’d watch movies if they still had access to all of that.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle? The couch or their bed.

How often do they get time to themselves? Less often the older they get. They almost always have little kids around, and then the Highwaymen come to the county and it’s a whole damn thing.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Sharky. Mattie does only when she’s pregnant.

If both do, who snores the loudest? Mattie.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share. They’re all over each other.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? They cozy right the fuck up, especially in winter.

What do they wear to bed? Ideally, nothing, but usually shorts and t-shirts because of kids and roommates (Hurk).

Are either of them insomniacs? Sharky is. He has a hard time shutting his brain off enough to fall asleep, and once he wakes up in the middle of the night, he has a hard time relaxing again.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nah.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Oh wrapped up for sure.

Who wakes up with bed hair? They both do, but Mattie has more hair so sometimes it’s crazier.

Who wakes up first? If Sharky is still asleep when the sun comes up, then Mattie gets up first. If Sharky’s going to be awake early, it’s because he woke up randomly at four am and decided to start his day.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Mattie’s not bringing him breakfast, but he’ll do it for her sometimes.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Spooning! Or Sharky on his back and Mattie on top of him like a starfish.

Do they set an alarm each night? Mattie would, but they don’t need to.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Sharky would LOVE to have a TV on 24/7.

Who has nightmares? They both do, especially after everything they’ve been through with the cult situation.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Sharky, definitely.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Sharky’s just a bigger person, but Mattie doesn’t care because she wants to touch as much of him as possible anyway.

Who makes the bed? Who has time for that, really?

What time is bed time? Whenever they get sleepy!

Any routines/rituals before bed? They read to the kids (or tell made-up stories) and then get some good snuggle time in.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Sharky is, if he didn’t wake up naturally.

WORK

Who is the busiest? Mattie

Who rakes in the highest income? It’s hard to say under this situation

Are any of them unemployed? Technically they both are. It’s the apocalypse!

Who takes the most sick days? Mattie gets sick slightly more often, but they can’t really take sick days

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Sharky's way worse at keeping time

Who sucks up to their boss? Sharky would be, but it’s totally unintentional

What are their jobs? They’re just like. Survivors.

Who stresses the most? It depends on the situation, really? They stress about different things.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Mattie misses some of the comforts of pre-war, but Sharky loves how things are now. It’s the ideal situation for him.

Are they financially stable? They don’t go hungry, so yes.

HOME

Who does the washing? Mattie has more patience for doing a good job.

Who takes out the trash? They both do. They have to be careful about it because of the wild animal situation.

Who does the ironing? Who has time to iron?

Who does the cooking? Mattie is better at cooking, but they take turns with it.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Sharky, obviously

Who is messier? Sharky

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Sharky but totally unintentionally

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Sharky, but again, unintentionally

Who forgets to flush the toilet? I’m not sure there are working toilets in the post-apocalyptic world, so...

Who is the prankster around the house? Sharky would be

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Sharky loses them all the time. He just puts them down and forgets where.

Who mows the lawn? There’s not a lot of need for lawn care.

Who answers the telephone? Mattie would

Who does the vacuuming? They’ll both sweep the house when it needs to be swept

Who does the groceries? Sharky will go out on supply runs more often than Mattie, but it’s because they want her to stay with the kids.

Who takes the longest to shower? It depends on whether or not Sharky wants to jerk off.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? Nah

How many cars do they own? They always have at least one working vehicle, and usually others they can break apart for scrap

Do they own their home or do they rent? Well, they say possession is 9/10ths of the law, so...

Do they live in the city or in the country? Country.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Honestly? They really do.

What’s their song? Burn Like A Star Fire by Sleeping Wolf

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Basically whatever they have to do before they can get back together. Just what needs to be done -- taking care of the kids, supply runs, etc.

Where did they first meet? Same way it happens in-game. She finds him in the Moonflower and he falls in love immediately.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Sharky's more impulsive about it, but there’s not a lot of actual purchasing happening? It’s more like grabbing whatever he thinks they need or would be fun.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Sharky for sure.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over themselves? As long a there isn’t an actual injury, they both think it’s pretty funny.

Any mental issues? Mattie’s absurdly resilient mentally. She has nightmares from the cult situation, but only when she’s already otherwise stressed, and she has some minor PPD after the babies, but overall she’s really mentally healthy. Sharky has some ADHD issues, but nothing that’s holding him back now.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Mattie, but moreso because she doesn’t want anyone catching any weird germs from them.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Whoever sees it first.

Their favourite place? At home together.

Who pays the bills? No bills after the end of the world, but they work together to provide for their family.

Do they have any fears for their future? The future is incredibly uncertain. They’re always worried about illness or injury that wouldn’t have been serious before but is now, and that only heightens when the Highwaymen come around.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Mattie, just because she’s better at planning ahead for it.

Who’s the tallest? Sharky.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? They’ll both do this, but I’m going to say Mattie probably does it more regularly.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Sharky more than Mattie.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Sharky does everything louder lol

What do they tease each other about? Everything, honestly. It’s a fun relationship

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Mattie 100%. She loves Sharky, but... let’s be honest. The New Dawn look? Not great.

Who crushed first? Sharky fell had and fell fast, but Mattie wasn’t all that long behind him

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Sharky probably drinks a little more heavily than is healthy, but it’s not an abuse problem

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Uh, well, Sharky.

Who swears the most? They both swear a lot. They try to clean up for the kids, but... it’s hard.

#x: burn like a star fire #oc: mattie covington #sharky boshaw #far cry 5

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kadavernagh · 5 years ago

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Panic! At the Banshee || Regan & Frankie

TIMING: After Kaden’s poltermom made a mess of Regan’s apartment, and before the necklace was fixed LOCATION: Regan’s apartment PARTIES: @kadavernagh and @offrankies SUMMARY: Frankie offered to help Regan clean, but when you can hear auras as well as see them, some people aren’t so fun to be around.

An earthquake, Regan decided. That was how she’d explain the mess covering the floor of her apartment, both to herself and to the young person who would be arriving any minute to help clean. Having someone over right now seemed like a bad idea given the wing situation and the questions all of this could raise, but it seemed like Frankie needed some cash, and she certainly needed the help (though Nadia had offered, Regan refused to let her put stress on an injured shoulder). She swaddled herself up in a blanket -- not weird at all, it would be fine, completely fine -- and started getting to work organizing some of the files that had flown out of the cabinet. Frankie, when she got here, could handle the medical texts and other books that had piled onto the floor. Or maybe the kitchen. There was still a mess of spilled dishware and spices and food spilled from cupboards.

Regan sighed. So much to do. But the knock on the door was a good sign. She double checked that the blanket was as secure as it could be, and invited the young woman in. The first thing she noticed was the long, pink hair, and she thought of Blanche. “Dr. Kavanagh.” Regan said as an introduction, not offering a hand. “You must be Frankie. I really appreciate your help today, you know.” She stepped to the side. “Um, I wasn’t exaggerating when I said this place was a mess. I’m sorry about this.”

Frankie’s grandmother had forced her for years to clean most of the house - something about building character and all that nonsense parents told their kids to make them do stuff they don’t want to do themselves, and though she had the patience to do it, she hated it. But money was money, and the lack of a job definitely forced her to do anything and everything to earn whatever she could to avoid getting kicked out of the apartment. Some cleaning items were inside of her backpack, with a single DC comic she had brought in case Dr. Kavanagh needed a distraction of some sort, and she had a broom on her hand when she rang the bell. Honestly, the lack of information left lots of room for her imagination, and as far as she knew, maybe the apartment only was messy because of a wild party.

When the door opened, Frankie had to fight the urge to cover her ears, a high pitched buzz stunning her for a moment and she visibly winced in discomfort. It didn’t help that the woman’s aura was one of the strangest she’d seen in her life; a very dark aura that behaved like a.. Vortex? A vacuum? She wasn’t sure how to describe it, but whatever the doctor was going through, was definitely not good, and it frightened her a little. “Yes I am.” She managed to say, clearing her throat and walking in when the other moved, subtly avoiding to touch her and standing as far as possible in the chaotic room. The buzzing didn’t stop, but at least it wasn’t as loud. Was it coming from her? “Don’t worry about it, I’ve definitely seen way worse. I got invited to a frat party once and, yikes.” Frankie motioned around the room, before taking her backpack off and putting it on the ground next to her feet, both hands now grasping the broom. “This is honestly nothing. I didn’t know what needed to be done so I just… brought a bunch of actual cleaning things, but I guess it’s mostly tidying things up?”

Something about how prepared Frankie was made Regan simultaneously impressed and guilty. Did Frankie not think she owned a broom? It’d been pressed into service so often lately to sweep up shattered glass, it’d become a permanent fixture of her living room, always leaning right against the wall. Or, it did. Now it was on the floor with everything else. She wasn’t going to say anything hurtful about Frankie going the extra mile, though; behavior like that should always be praised. “You look ready to clean just about anything.” Regan said, trying for a small smile. “You know, I’ve heard a lot about these frat parties, but I never went to any myself.” No one invited her. It was probably for the best. “Are you a college student?” That would explain why she was so willing to take this cleaning job for $200. Hell, even if she wasn’t a student, it made sense given her age. Regan made the silent decision right then and there to double the pay.

Regan’s eyes dropped to the living room floor for a moment, appraising everything like she hadn’t already spent hours staring at it, her mind reeling from everything Kaden had told her, and everything that had happened. “It’s -- yes, there shouldn’t be anything that shattered.” There was nothing left that could shatter in her entire apartment; she saw to that much. “But everything fl-- fell off the bookcase, and all of my files ended up on the floor, and, um, you may want to peek into the kitchen. There’s nothing left in the cabinets.” She raised a hand to rub the back of her head, then realized the blanket slipped a bit. Dropped her hand to frantically secure it back in place before it fell. “How about some tarte tatin and water? I can’t let either of us clean on an empty stomach, and hydration during strenuous tasks is important.”

“Honestly they’re not really interesting unless you like getting wasted or are just looking for someone for a one night stand.” And, if anything, the only reason Frankie had gone herself was because Layla had been invited and she had insisted on taking her. Her chin rested on the end of the broom, looking around at the mess as she spoke. “Oh, no, not really. I mean-- I am looking to enroll here, but I’m not sure I can manage to start this year since I missed application dates and I basically finished High School through email---” Her mouth shut close the moment the last word left it, and she slightly frowned. Spitting out everything that was racing through her mind wasn’t unusual, but the constant buzzing sound made her ears ring, making it harder for her to focus on keeping her mouth shut. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to bother Regan, and she wondered if it was one of those sounds only people beneath certain age could hear. “Sorry, you don’t want to know whole my life. It’s a bad habit of mine” Straightening her back, she let the broom rest against the wall, still actively avoiding staring at the woman, knowing that once she started analyzing her aura she wouldn’t be able to stop. Frankie made her way to where it seemed to be a larger amount of papers on the floor near Regan, and, after kneeling, she started sorting them, her face softly wincing in annoyance, and maybe a little pain as the buzzing became louder. “I’d love some, uhm, tart and water. Thank you, uhm, Doctor. Do you happen to have a- uh, TV or radio on, or something?”

Frankie was quick to get right to work -- something Regan appreciated. “I’ll handle all of the papers that poured out of the file cabinet.” She said sharply after she saw Frankie try to tidy them up. “Those are -- they need to be put back exactly how they were. They’re autopsy reports. Well, copies of them. I often bring my work home with me.” Just to show she wasn’t angry at the effort, she gave Frankie a small smile. “How about the books? And, you know, I think it’s great you’d like to enroll. It’s a good school, and I like to support those who want to further their education. Let me know if you ever need, um, someone to look things over.” For some reason, it seemed like Frankie was avoiding looking at her. Was it the blanket? It probably did look weird. But Regan had warned her ahead of time, and it was decidedly less weird than what was under the blanket. She left Frankie to it for a minute and headed into the kitchen, blanket still cautiously pulled over her shoulders. The wings were constantly complaining, twitching against the fabric and sending jolts of discomfort up Regan’s spine. Still, there wasn’t exactly another option right now. Cece needed to fix the necklace.

Regan sighed and plopped a piece of the latest tarte Kaden made onto a plate and filled a glass of water; brought both out and set them on the table for Frankie. “The tarte is pretty fresh. It’s -- I’m not exactly the best baker, but my French boyfriend made it from scratch a couple days ago.” Why was she asking about a TV or a radio? Oh, she probably wanted -- “I don’t have a television. It shattered. I can turn on some music though, if you’d like. I’m not exactly hip with the youths, so I’ll let you pick what we listen to.” She watched Frankie for a moment, noting the way her eyes seemed to jump around the room, anywhere but over her. “Hey, are you alright?”

An apology left Frankie’s lips as the other explained what was in the files sitting on her hands, and she carefully put the back down on the messy pile she had already started, but she was too intrigued to let it bother. Autopsy? When Regan had said she was a doctor she had assumed it was a medical doctor; she definitely looked like a pediatrician or maybe even a kinesiologist -- not that she really knew what doctors looked like usually since her mom was one and she never really went to the hospital when she was sick. Still, she found it pretty cool. “Do you work at a morgue? Or are you like, one of those crazy scientists that study corpses and use them to test things?” As soon as she realized what she had said, she quickly added -- “Not that I’m calling you crazy obviously-- I think that’s pretty cool and like it’s way better than testing in living things and stuff and--” Just shut up, a voice said as she moved to the books scattered on the floor around the bookcase, starting to organize them alphabetically. As soon as Regan left the room, her whole body seemed to relax as the buzzing sound became more and more faint. And also, as soon as she was back, it was back, perhaps even louder than before. It was fine, it was probably yet another sensory episode like when she was a kid from electric static --- except nothing was on. “What- really?” Despite her better judgement, she looked at Regan thinking she was joking, and met with a void dancing around her, the buzzing now deafening. A chill went up her spine, and it was suddenly very hard to breathe. “Ah- uhm----” Her whole body screamed her to run away from there, but Frankie: a) couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Regan, b) couldn’t figure out where the sound was coming from, and c) really fucking needed the money. Her hand moved on a vague gesture as she struggled to turn back around, feeling sweat covering her palms and the back of her neck. Music. It could drown the sound, possibly. “Y-Yeah, yeah I’m-- I’m gucci, music is okay I don’t- I really don’t mind as long as it’s loud.”

“I do work at the morgue.” Regan said, this time a real and much larger smile appearing on her lips. Unfortunately, she was stuck at home until the necklace was repaired, but work was still easy to talk about and filled her head all day, every day. “But I’m not --” Frankie was quick to backtrack, to course correct. Regan exhaled a breath, the words she was about to say lost with it. She could talk about work gladly and with pride. “I’m a medical examiner. Or forensic pathologist. They’re synonyms, not to be confused with coroners, who aren’t always medical doctors. I don’t test anything on my decedents, but part of my role is the collecting of cause and manner of death statistics for the CDC and other organizations.” She twisted her lips in thought. “Lots of companies with malfunctioning products afraid of being sued.” In White Crest, though, deaths often came in a flavor not seen elsewhere. She looked over to the file cabinet, her eyes falling over all of the papers scattered around the living room. “When I can’t sleep, I like to revisit. Try and find connections, make sure I still stand by what I determined.” But it was the undetermined cause of death cases that she was really stuck on, the ones that haunted her and kept her awake to begin with. And -- Frankie looked a little shaken. Was it because she’d said too much about death? That happened sometimes; Regan didn’t always know when to reel herself in.

She picked up the glass of water on the table and handed it over to Frankie, encouraging her to take a break and at least have a drink. Frankie had a sheen of sweat over her temples, like this discussion had made her nervous. “Did I say something?” Regan lifted a brow. Pulled the blanket a little tighter. She nodded vigorously at the music comment. “Sure! I -- loud. Not too loud, though. That can be damaging. How’s Jazz? Coltrane?” She didn’t have much in the way of radio music, but perhaps an ear for jazz and classical music was one of the few positive impressions her dad had left on her. Regan popped a CD into her old player -- low tech but thankfully requiring no glass to function, it had remained intact. As the sax in My Favorite Things swelled into the room, Regan took another hard look at Frankie. Inched closer and sat on the floor, wincing as the trapped wings couldn’t move themselves out of the way. “You sure you’re okay? You… don’t look so good. We can take a break if you need one.” Though as she looked around, it occurred to her that they’d barely started.

As interesting as everything was telling her was, Frankie couldn’t focus on more than two or three words at a time. Memories from when she was a kid came flooding back, flashing images of bright auras that left her crying and with panic attacks that lasted hours, anxiety episodes that lasted weeks, and all because she couldn’t figure out why there were bright colors around people. Now she faced a different but similar problem, that was why she kept hearing sounds ever since she arrived to White Crest, and why hadn’t her grandma told her that there were more types of auras than she had ever studied. Still, she managed to put a forced smile that she hoped wouldn’t be too obvious as she looked up from the books, making sure to close her eyes as she did to avoid the pitch black around the woman. “No, no, I love hearing about corpses--- I mean, like, that sounded creepier than I intended--- I meant to say that-- your job is super cool, and I didn’t know there was uh, differences between- between those two.” Both her mind and her heart were racing, the buzzing filling the room and she couldn’t understand how Regan seemed so unbothered by it. It definitely had to be one of those age buzzers, and if there weren’t radios or tv’s turned on, she must’ve left it on at her computer at full volume. Flopping on her knees so her legs wouldn’t get tired, Frankie wiped her face with both her hands in frustration. Maybe it was a test, but, a test for what? What could possibly Regan want from her? “Y-Yeah, Jazz is…. Fine...” Her voice trailed off as soon as the music started, and though it did little to drown the sound, it helped a little to ease her, and she could at least pretend the record was broken and that was the source of the awful noise. Except, as soon as Regan sat next to her, the buzzing got louder, and Frankie couldn’t stop her hands from flying to her ears, covering in a poor attempt to muffle the noise, her whole body curling up as she let out a pained scream. It was deafening, and her whole brain felt like it was on fire. A sensory overload, she tried to reason, but as soon as a thought appeared it was washed away by the ringing. She couldn’t hear -less alone reply to- Regan’s question; instead, she struggled to stand up, and stumbled towards the door to leave, without realizing she took her blanket off in the process.

Damn it. Regan should have listened to her gut. Sometimes those instincts came from rational, objective observations, and they were worth heeding, especially after so many years of sharpening them in the hospital and morgue. Frankie was exhibiting signs of a panic attack. Shortened breaths, sweating, trembling. She couldn’t form a complete sentence. Frankie practically fell forward on her knees, and Regan couldn’t tell if the music was helping things or making them worse for the poor girl. This was bad. This was why she was so much better with dead patients than live ones; Queenie would know exactly what to do, but she -- how could she make this better? Suddenly Frankie’s palms flew to cover her ears, and Regan’s eyes widened and she covered her own mouth, hoping that one of those noises hadn’t escaped without her knowing, hadn’t hurt her, and Frankie was on the floor, and there were hands flying and the wings fluttered with misplaced excitement and Frankie was up on her feet, floundering toward the door and -- Frankie.

There was too much happening at once, and Regan felt that thick tension rising in her lungs, trying to coalesce into a painful sound. Her teeth clacked together, trapping the noise before it could form, and her concern for Frankie edged out everything else. She kept her voice quiet and low. “Frankie, wait, you -- please, sit down. On the couch. I’m going to get you more water.” Was it better to run toward her in case she passed out, or stay back so she didn’t panic? Regan stood up and took a cautious step toward Frankie. “Sit. You look like you’re about to -- I don’t think you should be cleaning right now, but I can’t let you drive home like this. Please. Sit on the couch.”

Has this town scared you away yet? The single question from her blog resonated in her head as she reached forward to the knob, the buzz even louder than before if that was even possible; but Regan’s pleading voice made her stop with her hand mid-air. There was still some sense inside of Frankie’s head, and she knew she at least owed her an apology for leaving before she even got the chance to start, but when she turned around to speak, she was met with something taken straight up from a fairytale. Not only did her aura looked clearer - though still as dark and terrifying as it had for the past fifteen minutes-, but it was contouring her… her… What the fuck. It felt like time had frozen for a second, even the buzzing stopping as she tried to understand what she was looking at. All color left her face, before an anxious laugh started bubbling from inside her. No, those couldn’t possibly be wings. There were really weird people out there, like people who took cosplaying one step too far. That was probably it. That was definitely it. There was no other explanation. “I--- Those------”

But as soon as Regan took a step forward, it was as if everything continued, the buzzing drilling into Frankie’s brain once more, the aura flowing around the woman as if it was about to devour her. One hand flew to cover her mouth, tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes as panic finally took over her, and Frankie took a step away, her back crashing against the door. “Don’t-----” She managed to mumble, and she took advantage of the surface behind her to slide to the floor, both hands grabbing her head in desperation, screaming as she did. “Make--- Make it stop------” But she didn’t know what she was asking for her to stop.

Frankie’s hand was practically clawing at the door in an attempt to use the knob, and Regan didn’t know what to do. Frankie couldn’t drive like this -- Regan couldn’t let that happen. It could lead to Frankie’s death, or maybe someone else’s. But she also wasn’t about to tackle a teenager. Or anyone, for that matter. Then Frankie turned, and instead of meeting her eyes, Regan watched them trace around her, fixated on -- Regan wiggled her fingers. No blanket scrunched up in them. Fear spread through her like a drop of ink in water, and she slapped her hands behind her back, wincing as they made contact with the wings, out in the open, flat against her back but no longer confined in a blanket. Fuck. When had that -- on the floor, she realized, when Frankie had flailed around and flung herself up. Shit.

Frankie was looking more ready to pass out than before, pale and stumbling, and the wings started quivering with anxiety, and Regan didn’t know what to do, if she could even help at this point, and Frankie collapsed into a pile by her door, knees meeting elbows and arms cradling her head. Make it stop? Make what -- the music. It had to be the music. This all got worse after she’d started that Coltrane. Maybe Frankie had a bad experience associated with jazz, or -- Regan could do that. That was something she could do. She darted across the living room and unplugged the CD player instead of panic-pressing every single button. The music came to a halt and the room was cast into an almost painful silence.

“Frankie?” Regan tried, quietly. The wings. They were probably -- they couldn’t be helping. This had been a terrible idea; she should have known that. But it wasn’t like she’d anticipated Frankie panicking and pulling the blanket away from her. Regan ran a hand through her hair, tugging at it. Okay. She -- she wasn’t sure she could do this, but she had to. Instead of approaching Frankie, Regan sat down against the opposite wall, keeping distance between the two of them. “I’m over here. I -- way over here. Can you breathe? Can you take a few deep breaths for me?” Now if only she could listen to her own damn advice.

The whole room was spinning around Frankie, or maybe it was Frankie the one spinning around the room – but whatever of those two options were, the source of her panic attack didn’t seem to stop, not even when she had her arms wrapped around her head to try to muffle it. It was almost as if it was coming from inside her brain, like a needle pinching it and each stab making the buzzing louder and louder, and the need to scream filled her again, instead coming out as a choked sob. Her mouth kept pleading Regan to make it stop, but what was it she was no longer sure anymore, her mind couldn’t remember what she was doing in the house of a stranger anymore. Everything felt heavy, and the teen felt on the verge of crumbling.

But then, something happened, and the buzzing slowly turned down a notch – and thought it was still as annoying and impossible to ignore, it wasn’t painful anymore. The sound of Regan’s voice felt distant, like a glass wall stood between them, and Frankie slowly and carefully moved her head, peeking a look at her surroundings. Everything was the exact same, except the woman was sitting as far away as the room allowed her to. Can you take a few breaths for me? Frankie’s chest rose and fell in quick, irregular movements as she tried her best to control her breathing, struggling to calm down but after what felt years, she managed to stop the episode.

The black sea around the older women still frightened Frankie, though, and she decided to stare at the unplugged radio next to her instead. “I’m sorry—” Her voice was weak, and she found herself pressing her forehead against her knees once more. “I got diag— diagnosed SPD and—this happens sometimes.” The feeling of another wave coming to throw her off her feet made her breathing irregular once more, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath through the nose, not allowing her anxiety to take control again. “There’s--- There’s this sound that’s— I don’t know where it’s coming from---”

Slowly, very slowly, Frankie seemed to perk up a little. Her breathing stabilized and even though she was clearly still a mess, Regan thought her posture loosened up a tiny bit. Regan stayed silent; it seemed wise to let Frankie speak first. Maybe she wouldn’t even speak. Maybe she’d just take off, a little bit calmer than before. But then -- an apology. Why was she apologizing? It wasn’t like she could help having a -- oh. Sensory processing disorder. That’s what that was, right? Was this still a panic attack? Al would know; it was one of the few things he’d know better than she did. But Al wasn’t here right now. “Hey, it’s -- it’s okay.” Regan kept her voice quiet as Frankie seemed to backslide for a moment, her eyes closing. Regan waited a beat. “A sound? I shut the music off. Do you still hear it?” She had to wonder if it was coming from her mouth, given all of the broken light bulbs. Broken eardrums. “Is it… when I talk? Or something else? Something ambient? I don’t hear anything.” She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on a palm. The wings gave a nervous shake, which made her frown back at them. That was… another thing to address, probably. But not now. “What can I do? I just -- you can leave, of course, but I don’t want you driving like this. I’d rather you get home safe and not see you at the --” Probably not the best thing to say to a teenager having a panic attack. Regan swallowed the last word back. “Keep taking deep breaths, okay? I used to get them, too. Panic attacks. Still might.”

Regan’s voice kept pulling her back to the real world, and after the worst five minutes since she had arrived to White Crest had passed, Frankie could finally feel her body again, the not yet dried tears leaving a sticky feeling on her face which she tried to wipe with the back of her hand, a shaky breath making its way through her lips. It was a weird contrast, but somewhat familiar nonetheless. Her mother had never helped with her sensory episodes, but rather made them worse - but Layla always took the approach Regan had tried, and for a second it was her voice telling her it was okay and not the woman’s sitting across from her. “No it’s--- like a-- I don’t know, a-- a buzzing?” The teen didn’t feel like concentrating enough to determine what the sound actually was, but that was as close as it could get. “It was-- it’s been there since I arrived, that’s, uhm, why I asked about a tv or radio… ” Her right cheek was pressed against her knees, and she forced herself to look at Regan. Something told her that the sound had something to do with the void dancing around her, and it was impossible to ignore anymore, the apparently plastic wings forgotten for now. “I have a-- uhm, theory. This is weird but, uhm, Are you- Do you feel okay, Doctor? Like are, uhm, are you sad or something like that?”

Buzzing. Even though Regan couldn’t hear the noise, she still found herself looking around the room, trying to locate possible sources. Everything was still a mess. Even if the sound was audible to her, there was almost no chance of digging up what was making it. As the wings twitched behind her, she had to wonder -- but, no, she would’ve heard it by now if the damn things made noise. “I don’t hear anything, I’m sorry. But you’re a teenager. Your ears are going to be more sensitive to certain frequencies and pitches than mine, especially on the lower end of the decibel scale.” Was there something high-pitched in her apartment that she’d just never been able to detect? Or maybe there really was no sound at all, and it was in Frankie’s head. She couldn’t exactly judge the poor girl for that, considering how an average day at work usually went for her these days. Regan ran a hand through her hair and sighed. There was a panicking, possibly hallucinating teenager in her apartment who needed to stay put for at least a little while longer. And she was ill-equipped to deal with just about anyone who had a pulse.

“A theory?” Regan’s head snapped to attention, though she stayed sitting where she was; that seemed to be working well for Frankie, who was looking slightly better with each passing minute. “Do I -- what are you asking me, exactly?” And why was such a simple question so damning to answer? Her dad died, she grew wings, and started seeing things at the morgue. Of fucking course she was sad. She couldn’t lie, but she also didn’t want to dump any of this on a scared teenager. And there was Frankie, still waiting for an answer to what should have been a very simple question. Regan’s mouth fell open. “I, uh -- sick. I’ve been sick for a couple of months. With wi -- wigs. Crap.” Regan pressed a hand to her forehead. This was weird enough; maybe Frankie wouldn’t press it. “Um, Sad comes with the territory. You know, of being sick. But it’s not -- it isn’t contagious.” At least, she was pretty sure, despite her encounter with Jeff. Kaden would have had wings by now. “Why do you ask? Are you… are you feeling any better than you were a minute ago?”

It was hard keeping her eyes fixated on the other, and it wasn’t long before she had to look away again. Many times she had been accused of being shy or an introvert when it definitely wasn’t the case. Frankie just couldn’t turn off being bothered by the colors no normal human should be able to see. This time, her gaze fell on her backpack that had been forgotten, and something clicked in her head. Her sunglasses. They always helped to bring down the colors a notch, and since they were indoors and Regan’s aura was black anyways, they would definitely help, though it would make her look very weird. But how to get them in the first place? “I just-- have a, uhh--” I can see that’s something’s wrong “-- a hunch! A uh, hunch that you’re not feeling well---”

Regan’s words made Frankie remain silent for a moment, her mind racing. For one part, she was calculating if she could run fast enough to grab her backpack and then go back to her safe spot by the door, and the other part of her mind was determining if what Regan had said made sense according to her aura. It was weird. Usually human auras carried a mixture of different colors - people were fluid like that, never filled with just one emotion - and now that she thought about it, she’d never seen one so… static. “I am… I can still hear the, uhm, buzzing, but it’s not as loud as before.” Straightening her back, she took another look at the woman, eyebrows slightly furrowed. What she was saying made sense, but it wasn’t-- it couldn’t be enough. Be gentle to people surrounded by black, they’re the most fragile, and you need to be a helping hand. She’d tried to follow the words her grandma had taught her about black auras, but she also never tried to push too far. Hell - Regan had said she used to have panic attacks too, and the last thing Frankie needed right now was for both of them to be panicking.

“I don’t know what you, uhm, mean by being sick with wigs.” Frankie’s voice was much calmer now, tears dried and her breathing following a regular, steady pattern, despite the sight in front of her that brought chills up her spine. “But I-- I don’t know, I’ve always, uh, been good at telling when someone’s… feeling down. I don’t mean to pry--- but since you helped me I just- uhm, thought I could, maybe help… back… since I can’t clean...” Her voice trailed off, a new feeling washing over her. She had waltzed in with such confidence and now she couldn’t even stand up before feeling like she was about to faint. Looking back at the backpack, she continued. “Can, uhm, can you throw me my bag?”

Sick with wigs. It was no wonder everyone thought she was a terrible liar, even long before she became physically unable to do it. Regan still couldn’t hear the buzzing that Frankie said was present but dwindling, but at least Frankie seemed more eager to talk now. Some of the color was returning to her face, and Regan could see her chest rising and falling at a more-or-less normal rate. Much faster than her own. Why was Frankie suddenly very interested in her emotional state? What kind of a ‘theory’ was this? Regan’s head thunked against the wall and she closed her eyes for a moment, trapped in her own impulsive need for honesty. Saying nothing was barely an option. “Things have been -- they haven’t been good. Not for me, or for Kaden. My, uh, boyfriend.” She waved a hand across the room. “This mess? It’s from his mother, who tried to --” She bit her tongue before the rest could leak out. “You shouldn’t worry about it, though. It’s, really, it’s okay that you can’t clean. I’m too particular anyways; I’d just move everything again.”

Frankie seemed a little more alive and confident than before, her eyes landing over the backpack she’d brought in. Did she want it? Wait, she wanted Regan to toss it? “Are you, uh, sure that’s a good idea? Tossing it?” But Regan stood up anyways, wings rustling, and picked the bag up. Not too heavy. “Sure you want the whole thing? Or is there something in here I can get for you? I mean, it’s -- I just don’t want to hurt --” There seemed to be a clear enough path along the floor though, for her to slide it. Regan sat back down again and did her best to slide the backpack across the floor; it reached about three quarters of the way to Frankie. “Err, sorry. Is that okay?”

Frankie’s head nodded slightly as Regan told her what felt like a drop of a sea of information. But it was something. Maybe people with a huge emotional distraught made their auras more potent? She wasn’t particularly erudite when it came to the flowing colors but whatever they were, they had to carry some sort of energy, right? And… energy makes sounds and since she can see them maybe it also means she can hear them? But again - she had been to funerals, and she had seen and felt people who had lost their lives because someone else had died and they still didn’t look nor sounded, apparently, the way Regan did.

“I think---” Was it a good idea? Caring about looking sane was out of the question after the huge emotional breakdown Frankie just had, but the fact that the woman hadn’t kicked her out yet meant that at least she cared a little, and the way she tried to calm her down meant that maybe she cared a little more than a little. But her reveal was cut short with the backpack conversation, and she extended her arms in the air to show her she was ready. “Yeah, no, I can grab it, it’s not hea---” But the moment she stood up, the volume of the buzzing raised once more, and she visibly winced. Yeah, sliding it was better. She crawled in all fours to get a hold of it, the sounds pinching her brain once more and making her feel like screaming once again. But Frankie endured, and she managed to grab her sunglasses before moving back to her spot, putting them on. Her small theory had been right - the color seemed to merge with the darkness making it less noticeable, but it didn’t take away the way it flowed. “Thank you-- uhmm, You’re gonna think I’m insane, but I’m-- I think the sound comes from… you?”

Regan wasn’t sure what she’d expected Frankie to grab out of her backpack -- if anything at all, maybe she just wanted it to leave -- but it certainly wasn’t a pair of sunglasses. They were indoors. Not only that, but it wasn’t even like it was bright in here; the lack of lightbulbs saw to that. Regan quirked a brow at Frankie as she slid the sunglasses over her eyes. “Um, why --” Did it matter? Did it really matter? If it helped Frankie deal with the panic attack, with whatever she was hearing that was so distressing, it didn’t matter, and Regan wasn’t going to badger her about it. Insane. The word pricked at her ears. She listened carefully for what followed, and her mouth fell open in response. Could the sound be coming from her? She couldn’t hear it, but she’d considered it, and -- well, there was precedence. A lot of precedence. Regan felt that dark wave of pressure starting to form in her lungs, and she pulled in a deep breath to try to quell it, and fast. Stayed silent for a minute as it slowly subsided.

“You think it’s me?” Regan finally asked, lifting her head, trying to make eye contact despite the sunglasses that greeted her. Insane. Yes, it did sound insane. But she was sitting in her apartment with fucking wings, after her boyfriend’s dead mother somehow broke in and tried to kill both of them using Kaden’s own hands. “I don’t think you’re insane. And you said that it… it’s a buzzing noise?” The question, and where it led her, made bile want to climb up her throat. But she needed to ask. “I don’t, um, hear it, but is it -- does it sound like -- like, you know, like --” Regan looked over her shoulder at the damn things. They weren’t moving right now, but maybe she just couldn’t detect it. Alternatively -- “I, uh, my voice. It sometimes -- it breaks things.” Great. Fucking great. Regan pressed her hands to her forehead and sighed again. “If it’s me, I think you should leave.”

Regan was right. If Frankie’s theory was right, the only way to stop it would be leaving the apartment. It was sad, though - she had taken a liking to the woman and the idea of not being able to see her again because of a possibility bummed her. A weak smile formed on her face when Regan tried and, though she probably couldn’t tell, succeeded to make eye contact with her. Whatever was happening, she needed to ask her grandmother about it. It had taken her several years to even begin to understand what auras were, less alone what they meant, and if it now just so happened that they also carried noises with them… the mere idea made her want to pull her hair in frustration. This had never happened before in her life. Could it be that White Crest had a weird aura amplifier or something like that?

“Like what?” Frankie started, and noticed she was referring to the fake wings. Oh, she took her character seriously. Props to her for being a serious cosplayer. She shook head slightly, and bit her lip, as she tried to think how to describe it. “No, no it’s-- like, uhm--” Her fingers snapped, as she struggled to find the words. “Like really loud static? You know like, uhm, when old tvs get this weird grey and black screen.” The second reveal made her humm, and she once more found herself resting her chin on her knees, arms tightly wrapped around her legs. “Do you, uhm, sing opera? I know some uh, high decibels can break glass - it’s more common than you think.” At least it was common on youtube. But she had done some research on the matter a few years back for a science project, and she had tried to scream to break a glass herself and failed miserably. “That’s cool, though, uhm, I think..?” Regan definitely didn’t look like it was a gift, but more like a curse, and at the mention of leaving, Frankie started nodding again, slowly moving and using the door for support in order to stand up. “I can-- I’m sorry. I really wanted to help you and I just made things worse.”

“Like the --” Did Frankie really not see the wings? Or maybe she thought they were fake. Regan wasn’t going to correct her on that point, though she still wasn’t thrilled about trusting a teenager to not tell anyone. She could follow up on that later. But it didn’t matter right now -- apparently it sounded like TV static. Once more, Regan tilted her head, trying to pick up any unusual sounds, but -- nothing. There was nothing. Not even the sound of birds chirping outside, thanks to the thick windows. Whatever Frankie was hearing, it was either in her head, or something inaudible to her ears for whatever reason. Just a couple of days ago, she’d had an entire conversation (if you could call it that) with Kaden’s dead mother, but he hadn’t been able to see or hear her. Maybe it was like that, somehow. She wished she could understand how any of that worked.

“I don’t sing opera. Or sing at all. I’m, uh… I have congenital amusia, actually. Commonly called tone deafness.” Regan’s whole body tensed up at the word cool. This thing that ruined her life. Not that Frankie could know that. Regan groaned. None of this was Frankie’s fault, and she’d never blame her for any of it, but it would’ve been nice if one small thing had worked out. “Can you stand?” Regan asked. “I also -- I’d like for you to message me when you get home, so I know you’re safe. Um, maybe clear your head outside for ten minutes before driving. Okay?” She sighed through her teeth, still staying on the floor. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And I’m still going to pay you, no arguments. I -- I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry.” With everything else in her life going south, she couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, some way, the noise Frankie couldn’t be in the same room as was coming from her.

Frankie nodded her head once more, before flinging her backpack over her shoulder, losing her balance for a moment, and she leaned against the door, finding a spot to focus on like her mother had taught her in the past. The buzzing was still there making her dizzy, despite her best efforts to tune it down, and after a few seconds her head stopped spinning. “I’m… okay, I think. And yes, I’ll text you as soon as I get home, I promise.” A warmth started spreading on her chest, and she could feel tears forming on the corner of her eyes once more. Was it weird to get attached to someone she had met twenty minutes ago and who had possibly caused a panic attack on her, just because she had shown that she cared? Well, weird or not, it had happened, and Frankie would be damned if she didn’t find a way to meet with Regan again. At the mention of payment, both her hands shook furiously on the air. “Nononono--- No, please, I can’t-- I couldn’t possibly take that money. But if you, uhm, insist, maybe we could try meeting again-- somewhere more open?” A deep breath, and she turned around to open the door. “Thank you, Dr Kavanagh, and uhm, I’m so sorry again.” And with that, she walked out and closed the door, her back pressed against it and a shaky breath leaving her mouth as the buzzing was suddenly gone.

#wickedswriting

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sarcasticbabywhispererjess · 5 years ago

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When I got home from work today after I showered I immediately started cleaning. My one roommate saw me doing this and mentioned that maybe we should make a chore schedule/chart since he felt bad watching me clean all the time. He even chipped in and started vacuuming (though he could’ve done a more thorough job, but beggars can’t be choosers). He made note that I have a higher degree of cleanliness standard than he and my other roommate do. This was my opening, I mentioned how much all the hair all over the bathroom drove me crazy and though he first said, “there was nothing he could do about it” (which is a lie because I literally have cleaned it up quite quickly by wiping down surfaces and sweeping), he followed it up by saying that he would try to do better. Thank you jeebus. Now we just have to get the other roommate on board with this plan. Roomie #1 said he’d been trying to get Roomie #2 to get on a more regular cleaning schedule, but that he’s lazy and kind of pushed it off saying, “maybe if we got another roommate”. Well, look at what has happened... they have another roommate. Roomie #1 said that he used to clean more, but he got resentful when he was the only one cleaning and just stopped. He said that he hadn’t realized how bad he’d let it gotten until I moved in and actually cleaned. Both of these motherfuckers have girlfriends that are apparently ok with the squallor. Gross. I guess Roomie #2′s girlfriend is the culprit for leaving hair in the shower. That’s even worse than the roommate doing it. You are a guest here ma’am and this is not a hotel, so clean up after yourself.

I don’t know when I became such a clean freak... or maybe I’m just more aware of how cleanliness should be now. I’ve always had the tendency to go on cleaning binges, but it wasn’t nearly as often. And I’ve never cleaned so thoroughly, so regularly. Part of it is probably because I’m stuck at home even more than usual and I can’t go to the gym. Though, hopefully I’ll continue to make it a habit and the roommates will join in... even if I have to force them with a chore chart/schedule. You know, the same thing happened the last time I lived with two guys. I cleaned a lot, one of them decided it wasn’t fair to me while the dirty one probably didn’t even notice, but it lead to a rotating weekly chore schedule.

#cleaning #roommates #i can't wait until they go back to work #i want to have the house to myself sometimes #just for the quiet #to not have to fight for the kitchen #to not have everyone else's dirty dishes all the time #for every meal

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adonis-koo · 5 years ago

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Three’s a crowd

| 12 |

Plot: (CEO AU) When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was suppose to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation…

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader/Jimin, Hoseok/Reader, Taehyung/Reader, Seokjin/Reader

Genre: Smut, angst, drama, angst with a happy ending

Word count: 8.1K

Previous | Next

Warning ⚠️ This fic touches on drug use, alcoholism and abuse. Please read with caution if any of these things are triggers for you 🖤

Gnawing against your lower lip you sighed, running a hand through your hair. You got it, Hoseok didn’t want you anywhere near him, and for good reason. But if this was all really connected, you might not have a choice but to confront Jungkook.

You put up a good front but deep down you still weren’t sure if you were ready to face him after that, but what choice did you have? So much was happening, so much you didn’t understand. You didn’t want to assume the worst but, what if it was? Someone else could be killed, you could be killed.

Closing your eyes you gave another sigh before ultimately putting your phone away, while you wished all the answers would fall at your feet you knew that wasn’t going to happen. And until then, you were just going to have to continue your life. Standing at the foot of the shotty steps to the front porch brought you back to reality.

You hadn’t seen your father all week, would he have noticed? He never did send you a text, or had he destroyed his recent phone and wasn’t able too? Dread bubbled in your stomach as you forced your feet forward, he hadn’t overdosed had he? They would’ve called you, right? Right!?

Your footsteps fluttered quickly before fumbling with your key to open the door. You weren’t sure why you were so paranoid. Most people would’ve been happy to know such a deadbeat was gone from the world, but he was your dad! Sure he wasn’t the greatest but...God now wasn’t the time for a pity party.

Swinging the door open you instantly reeled from the foul stench inside, groaning you covered your nose as you glanced around. The place was totally trashed, except the difference between your apartment and this, was it always looked like this. Just a little worse since you missed going last week.

That and the large pile of vomit your dad laid collapse in. Setting your bag down you tried to keep down a gag as you shut the door, this place clearly needed some sort of ventilation. You had instantly made way for the windows, opening them up for some much needed cool evening air.

After that you had begun your evening of cleaning house. Starting with the living room and the mess your father had made. You weren’t about touch him but the least you could do was get rid of the smell around him. Then there was all the trash and empty beer cans you had picked up before dusting and vacuuming. You had expected your dad to wake up through all the noise but he was out cold. He must’ve drank a lot.

Sighing you glanced down at his figure, feeling an overwhelming amount of sadness overtake you for a moment, all you wanted was a loving family growing up. How did you end up here?

Pressing your lips together before ultimately sighing once more, making your way to the kitchen to begin your work there. Why were you even doing this? You had so much on your plate that was worth a lot more to focus on at the moment then...this.

Why were you even here? Maybe Taehyung was right, maybe he was a lost cause. All you ever tried to do was help him back on his feet, and all he did was go running back towards his life. Maybe you should just go…? You were tired from such a draining day and honestly could use what few hours you could get rather than being a personal maid.

You paused from your position with the broom as you genuinely debating on going. That’s when you heard a rustle in the living. Confused you set the broom down as you peered out to see your dad, confused as you with squinted eyes waking up. Welp there went your chance to leave. Shaking your head while crossing your arms as you finally murmured, “I leave for a week and come back to a shit show. What happened this time?”

“Fuck you, disappear for a week and now you’re coming to see me out of what? Pity?” Your dad snarled back while rubbing his head his hangover clear as day making his voice groggy and the movement of his body slow.

Your lips curled in disgust as you crossed your arms, “I’m not a fucking kid I don’t have to let you know when I’m not coming. All you do is take my money then kick me out anyways.” You turned on your heels as you resumed sweeping up the kitchen again. Anger simmering in your veins at his words, how dare he act like he actually cared that you were gone. Maybe Taehyung was right, maybe it was time to just call it quits.

You didn’t want to be the girl with a fucked up childhood and daddy issues attached but if that’s the image you had to live in, survive with. Then that’s just what you’d have to do. You practically lived on your own your whole life anyways, you didn’t need him. You didn’t need anyone.

You had paused again, knuckles tightly holding onto the wooden handle of the broom and your jaw was clenched more than you had even realized. Maybe it was the stress from the engagement, or maybe it was the words Jimin had used against you, the ones that cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Or maybe it was because whatever Jungkook was involved in was beginning to affect you, whatever it was. You were ready to fucking snap.

“I am your father,” You took a deep sigh as you heard his voice boom from the other room, forcing your tense shoulders to relax as you rubbed your eyes, “And I like to think I have a damn good reason to ask where you disappeared to for a fucking week. No goodbye, no note, not even a simple fucking text?”

You turned around to watch your father’s heavy steps stomp into the kitchen glowering at you, and for a moment, you realized what your mom had always meant when she said you took after your dad, that same clenched jaw and icy glare staring back at you.

Except your gaze was much more brittle than his, more dead as you decided to reply, “She’s engaged.” You watched his expression morphed into confusion slightly as you huffed, a small bitter smile tugging on your lips as you clarified, “Mom, she’s engaged. Her boyfriend took us on a trip for the week, that’s where I was.”

You watched his expression sullen just as you figured it would as he ran a hand through his hair before looking back at you with glaring daggers, “Oh so that’s the only reason you came?” He sneered out, voice firing back up in anger as he snapped, “To gloat that whore finally has a new idiot to suck dry of money?”

Setting the broom down you swallowed thickly, knuckles curling as you tried to keep yourself calm, he was purposely doing this to get a rise out of you. To give him a reason to throw you around, “Don’t come fucking crawling to me when she leaves you just like she did me.”

“Crawling to you for what?” You snarled out snapping your gaze to his, your face darkened and temper flaring, “You make it fucking sound like you actually took care of me when we both know that wasn’t the case. You were the one who wanted to know where I was, I just answered your question, I know it fucking kills you to leave me out of your problems, but can you not for once?”

“You ungrateful little bitch,” Your dad snapped out as you began to walk towards the backdoor, the air was too stiff and your blood was boiling with a thirst for blood that you knew would lead to no where but pain for yourself, he only followed you though as he continued to antagonize you, “You know if it fucking wasn’t for you I’d still have a wife, and now even she doesn’t want you. You’re so fucking worthless even-” Your father hadn’t been able to finish his sentence as you swung around, your curled fist connecting to his jaw in unbrittled anger.

The pain came swelling into your knuckles instantly and the force of the punch ripping your skin open as he was knocked back but not as nearly much as you had hoped, “What gives you the fucking right to say that to me? Huh!?” You snarled out, “I didn’t ask to be put on this goddamn planet just to drop out of school at fifteen, I didn’t fucking ask to be so desperate for goddamn money to get away from you that I work two jobs and only get three hours of sleep a day, I didn’t ask you to become some deadbeat, drug addict, shitty father okay!? I owe you jack shit. You wanna know why you lost your wife?”

You could hardly finish you sentence when your dad had stumbled over, grabbing you by the throat before slamming you against the wall, “Because you fucking drank all of our money away, you beat the shit out of her and then expected her to not do anything-”

“You shut the fuck up right now!”

“-You made my life fucking miserable,” Your voice was horse and strangled and your feet were brushing off the ground as your hands had wrapped around his wrist, “The only worthless person here is you, fuck you.”

You were thrown to the ground making a violent throb in your ribs thrum and the blood dripping from your knuckles splattered against the ground beneath you but all you could focus on was the pair of shoes trudging towards you before lifting you up by the collar of your hoodie, “You’re right I should’ve just beat the shit out of you instead you ungrateful bitch. Get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back.”

You could barely register the unbridling pain you felt against your face at the punch he threw your way causing you to fall back against the floor, your breaths shaky and your vision dotting as he walked out of the kitchen. You stayed on the floor with your arms supporting yourself halfway for another minute still registering the blow and the blood that dripped down your chin, the bust in your lip that had been healing reopened and you wouldn’t doubt you’d be sporting a nasty welt on your face after that.

But just as he said, you weren’t coming back. Not now, not ever. You weren’t sure what your breaking point was, or maybe it was the stress of everything, but at the moment. You were done with his shit. You forced yourself off the ground in determination despite your lightheadedness as you made your way out of the kitchen.

Grabbing your bag by the door before walking outside, The sun was just beginning to set and the air had cooled. You could hear the almost feral dog of the neighbor snarling at you from the other side of the fenced front yard and distinctly you could hear shouting in the distant along with a car screech.

You were all too familiar with the uneasy ambiance of the rough neighborhood of your childhood. Wiping the blood from your chin as you stepped down the stairs you pulled the hoodie over your head, it usually did the trick from keeping people from bothering you.

Especially when you were dripping in blood.

In fact, you looked like you fit in here perfectly here. Plentiful of sketchy people passed by you without so much of a bat of the eye as you shoved your hands into your pockets. Where would you go? You weren’t about to volunteer yourself to go back to Seung’s estate and your apartment was in shambles.

You supposed you could crash at Hoseok’s again, but you doubt you’d get any sleep with him ranting on how you shouldn’t be considering talking to Jungkook…Jungkook...you swallowed as you fidgeted with your phone in the pocket...You could always call him. He’d let you stay the night, right? No he wouldn’t, you told him to stay away and did you really want to spend the night at someone who murdered ruthlessly?

Your hand gripped your phone tighter before sighing, you were low on money but you could squeeze in a motel as long as you could bum lunch off of Taehyung, or was he still pissed at you for going with Jimin to dinner? You groaned as you sighed, running a hand through your hair, it was beginning to get dark out and you knew better than to stay out later than necessary if you didn’t want to find trouble.

“You’ve seen better days.”

And when one door closed, you supposed, another opened. You stopped dead in your tracks at the sight in front of you, Yoongi only leaned against the light post, cigarette in mouth as he inhaled the fumes before letting the smoke roll off his lips.

But all you could think of was him passing the gun to Jungkook, the one he used to kill someone with. You swallowed thickly but kept your blank, if not intimidating expression, “I’ve never had a better day. What are you doing here?”

“Keeping an eye on you,” He replied casually making your expression hardened in an unasked explanation, this guy had been following you? For how long? “The kids orders, he’s been worried sick about you y’know. Looked like kicked puppy after you left the party.”

“Kicked puppy my ass! He fucking killed someone!” You shouted indignantly as you waved your arms about not giving two shits who could hear you, what was anyone gonna do in this beat up shitty neighborhood? “In fact, you helped him!’

Yoongi’s nose scrunched slightly as he flicked the butt of his cigarette, making the ash flutter to the ground as he replied, looking fairly nonpulsed by your outburst, “I didn’t do anything besides hand him the gun, he was the one who chose to shoot. It’s not the first time he’s done it and it won’t be the last, rule number one: don’t pissed Jeon off when he’s in a bad mood.”

He was acting like this wasn’t about life or death! Your lips parted in revolt as you curled away from him, “That doesn’t change the fact that he still killed someone. What the fuck are you guys involved in!? And why am I being dragged into it?”

That seemed to make Yoongi stir as he rose his brows, curious now as to how you knew that information before sighing, slumping against the pole again, “Can’t say, I just do Jungkook’s dirty work when he’s too busy, if you want answers you’re gonna have to face him...maybe not looking like that though,” He waved too your face while cringing, “You’d send him into cardiac arrest, he’s already paranoid about your safety.”

“Well this isn’t from whatever he’s paranoid about,” You huffed as you crossed your arms. Why was Yoongi talking like Jungkook actually cared about you? You knew each other for a week, you got each other off and that was that. He wasn’t actually serious about the romantic thing, was he? He was publicly engaged now, there was no way that could be the case.

And furthermore, you didn’t need his protection nor want it. In fact, you just about fucking had it with guys all around. They all sucked, no exception.

“Yeah but that isn’t gonna make it any better,” Yoongi shrugged, finally flicking the finished cigarette to the ground before smudging it out with his shoe, leaning off the pole as he stepped closer to you, “He still won’t be happy. Come on, let’s go.”

He turned around walking towards the narrow alleyway as if you’d actually follow behind him on your own account. After a moment, he seemed to realize the problem of you not actually trusting him before turning around as he curved a brow, “What? You don’t want to be out after dark, I’m sure you’ve learned that by now. I’m not gonna strangle you in an alley or some shit, you need a place to stay, come on.”

“How the fuck do you even-” You cut yourself off, frustratedly huffing before following behind him into the sketchy, dark alleyway where few questionable people had leaned off against the walls on his phone while another was blowing smoke off his cigarette. They both gave a nod to Yoongi as if they knew him. You genuinely wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case.

It was a quiet walk and the alley way only darkened further making it more eerie but eventually Yoongi stopped at a dead end, or what looked to be had it not had a door against the decrepit brick wall. In all honest, it looked like a crack house.

“Well don’t just stand there,” Yoongi called over his shoulder as he opened the door making you wearily follow behind.

“You don’t actually live here, right?” You murmured as you stepped into the ratty, dirty living room, or what was supposed to be one, by the looks of it.

Yoongi finally paused, turning around to face you as he hummed, “And what if I do? It’s not like I ever have time to sleep anyways, come on Minho was hoping you’d stay for at least dinner.”

You felt odd more than anything as your face contorted into a cringe but allowed him to lead you into the dining area, everything was so dirty and the old circle table couldn’t have been sanitary.

Minho was dancing around the stove while humming to the buzz of the radio setup on a stool as he began to drain out the noodles he had been cooking, whirling around in delight to see you, “Oh good, I thought for sure you were gonna tell the cops about the whole…” He gave his hand a wave, aiming a finger gun up to his head while pulling its imaginary trigger.

You only facepalmed, your heart rate still spiked despite his playfulness as you sighed, sure the thought had crossed your mind. But who would believe you when you were literally accusing a billionaire of murder, “My word against his? I may be a street rat but I’m not a dumb one.”

Minho had plucked his beer up from the counter as he cheered it towards you before taking a long gulp, “We’re all street rats in this house don’t worry, we’re the ones who actually make it somewhere in this life- not necessarily a good somewhere but...hey it gets dinner on the table.”

He had already fixed up a bowl of what looked to be gas station ramen in bowls for you all before setting them out on the table, gesturing you to sit down.

You frowned as you watched them both relax out, you supposed they didn’t have a reason to poison you…”You know,” Minho hummed, slurping on his noodles as he gave you a cheeky smile, “That’s what I like about you Y/n, even though Yoongs already told you we won't- that we can’t hurt you, you’re still on your toes. Never trust anyone.”

Finally you took a seat as you glanced between them, a million thoughts racing in your mind, but the smell of ramen was invading your senses and you hadn’t even ate dinner yet, finally you plucked up the chopsticks before digging in with them, “What do you mean you can’t hurt me?”

You glanced up while slurping on your noodles, Yoongi only hummed as he leaned back in his seat, obviously not as talkative as his...partner? Room mate? Coworker? You weren’t sure what they were, Minho seemed to be more of the conversationalist out of the two and honestly? You could see why, Minho had a good nature and cheekiness about him that you’d never peg as an aid in murder, but you supposed that was the idea.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Minho answered before snorting out a laugh, “Jeon’s orders. I honestly can’t tell if he’s using you as a rebound or he just really is that whipped for you. Anyways he says jump we say how high, no questions asked.”

You picked at your noodles as your expression hardened slightly, just what was Jungkook associated with if both Yoongi and Minho worked under him? You tried to recall your drunk conversation with him when you first met Yoongi, but his words were hazy in your head. Something about Yoongi doing dirty work? You were too drunk and too horny to bother questioning his words at the time, but having long since sobered up, it made you wonder just what did the word, dirty work mean?

Was it really a murder you had witnessed? Had that man did something to deserve a punishment so extreme? Or was Jungkook really so temperamental to go as far as killing someone out of moodiness? You just couldn’t see someone with such a soft expression when addressing his mother, someone with a pretty bunny smile and dimple adorning his left cheek, honestly, just the idea was too difficult for you to believe. Even days after it happened, you were still reeling in denial.

You wanted to believe there was a good reason Jungkook did it, but in the end, good reason or not, it didn’t change the fact that he still did it in the end. There was no coming back from murder, there was no washing off the blood that would forever stain his hands, was that his first kill? You doubted as much, given the cold look in his eyes when he pulled the trigger, the way his body didn’t even flinch at the sound of the gun going off, even the recoil or the body hitting the floor didn’t disturb the anger in his eyes. No, that was far from Jungkook’s first kill.

You swallowed thickly, your starved appetite sudden churned more into sickness with each passing thought of the event that had undoubtedly change your life from here on out. You didn’t want to accept it, but things weren’t going back to normal any time soon, and while you could still hope, you had little faith in reality you’d ever return back to regular life.

“Little late for him to be on a rebound,” Yoongi snorted, pushing up from his chair as he walked over to the fridge, pulling out a beer both for himself, and you assumed one for you as well, “It happened well over a year ago when they were both actually dating.”

Minho puckered his lips as he leaned back in his chair, looking as if this was something they discussed on a regular basis about their boss, his dark eyes following his friend as Yoongi sat back down, sliding the spare beer your way as Minho finally asked, “Then what do you think it is?”

“Fuck if I know,” Yoongi shrugged making Minho groan, “Probably freaking out he has to tie the knot to some prissy bitch who can’t keep her legs shut and now he’s trying to get his dick wet with every girl he can.”

Minho didn’t look sold on his words though as he glanced back over at you, taking in a big chunk of his noodles while slurping with a full mouth, “If that was the case he wouldn’t have given us the orders he did about Y/n,” he washed down his food with his beer before turning to you fully, “What do you think?”

As if you actually knew what the fuck was going on more then them, in fact, they probably had a lot more insight then you. Throwing up your hands you scoffed, “Like i’d know? Guy blew my back out for a week and now I’m suddenly an witness to murder, I almost got killed in a shoot out, Seokjin pulls out a fucking USB from my couch and tells me I need to go talk to him? You think I fucking know what’s going on?” You sputtered out animatedly as you waved your hands about, “Because I honest to god don’t.”

“Oh shit, that’s where he found that?” Minho raised his brows in surprise as he opened his mouth again, Yoongi suddenly punched his arm making him yelp as he rubbed the sore spot, shooting him a look.

“Remember orders dipshit,” Yoongi rolled his eyes before sighing, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his jean pocket before looking towards you, “If you want to know anything going on, then you bet your ass you’re gonna have to talk to Jungkook, he doesn’t want you hearing from anyone that isn’t him. I can gossip with you all night long about his love life but his work ethic? Off limits.”

You sighed again, finally cracking open the beer as you swallowed down a large gulp, the warm buzz in your throat pleasant enough to make you relax as well as you could, “I figured as much, but I guess while we’re on the topic of his love life, what the fuck is up? What’s his deal with Jae?”

Minho looked like an ecstatic child at your words as he gave you a boyish smile, his fluffy chestnut brown hair falling below his brows as he leaned forward in his seat, “Jae royally fucked up with him, that’s what’s up. They used to be really together back last year, and Jungkook was whipped for her, he would have never cheated on her, just to disclaim but things change. He ended up finding her in her penthouse with Park Jimin between her legs so…”

“What!?” You shouted out your eyebrows shot up to your forehead at Minho’s almost crazed smile, as if he had been looking forward to telling you this juicy bit as he laughed. It even elicited a small smile from Yoongi as if it really was amusing.

“Jungkook had been suspecting her cheating for a month or so when he found them together,” Yoongi clarified, “But that was just a one time fling, or at least that’s Jimin said. Anyways Jae can’t keep her legs closed for long, which I don’t care about, it’s more about the fact that she can’t keep her legs closed when she’s in a relationship- it’s just in bad taste to bait a guy into loving you when you don’t reciprocate and add insult to injury bang every guy in a five mile radius. Anyways Jimin and Jungkook have been pretty tense ever since. I’m sure you’re involvement probably hasn’t helped it.”

You sunk into your seat while playing with your chopsticks, you hadn’t realized just what you were getting yourself into when you allowed Jungkook to stay in your dressing room that morning, nor did you realize what their story was when you voluntarily let Jimin put you over his lap in the sauna. You just wanted a good fuck, but apparently, even that was too much to ask for anymore.

“Guess I should’ve kept my legs closed too huh.” You sighed before you resumed eating, slurping up the rest of your noodles. Had you realized where this trip was going to lead you, had you know the consequences of your actions, just what it really meant getting involved with either of them, you would’ve never said yes to that trip.

Not in a million years. But maybe this all happened for a reason? You weren’t much of a believer in a great plan for life, you weren’t much of a believer in anything at this point in your life. But at this point? You weren’t opposed to going on a little bit of faith. Anything, to help you endure this situation and try to understand why and how you had become involved.

“Not your fault,” Yoongi shrugged blowing smoke from his lips as he continued, “You just wanted a good fuck, but maybe chose your one night stand a little better next time…”

You couldn’t fault him for that, you shrugged while taking another drink from the bottle, “I just have one question, is Jimin involved too?”

“Nope.” Yoongi hummed taking the cigarette from his lips before stubbing it out in the ashtray, “His old man has too much of a kind heart for this line of work, and while I’m sure Jimin knows something is up, and it’s probably killing him to not be in on it, they’re just one cut too low for this shit.”

It made you feel a little better, for as much of an asshole as Jimin was, at least he hadn’t lost a part of his humanity like Jungkook had, he didn’t have that blood staining his hands. And sure he wasn’t a good person, but he wasn’t a terrible person either. For as detached as he was, he still had a sliver of innocence left that Jungkook was void of.

You sighed once more, letting the conversation between Minho and Yoongi continue as you finished your noodles, occasionally glancing at both of them before back down at your empty bowl as you fiddled with the neck of the bottle you held.

It wasn’t until a med kit was slapped on the table in front of you that you jumped, glancing up at Yoongi you had pulled his chair closer to you, making you edge away from his figure that sat down, “You’re dads a piece of shit,” He hummed out, gesturing you closer, “Now let me see, you have blood all over your face.”

You glowered at him, even flinching slightly as he pushed the hoodie down before grabbing your face for closer inspection, he wasn’t wrong. You could smell the metallic scent of blood that had been dried up on your chin from the bust in your lip resplitting open, the bruise welting on your cheek was probably swollen and given how much you had been touching your face, the blood all over your hand from your knuckle wasn’t looking too much better.

Yoongi only pulled out an alcohol wipe before brushing over the blood on your chin, his eyes were expressionless as always but focused at the same time, “How do you know this is from my dad?”

It was easy to forget your odd relation to Yoongi and how he seemed to unnervingly know so much about you. You would have pegged it as his stalking on Jungkook’s orders, but this had started up before you were witness to their murder. Yoongi had to know you from outside of Jungkook. Yoongi only hummed again, “Why don’t you use that damn brain of yours for once?”

You parted your lips in offense but he only continued cleaning up the blood from your chin before pressing the pad against the bust making you whimper in pain.

The sting burned into your lip harsh enough to force your eyes into watering as Yoongi finally lifted the wipe away, only to reach out for your hand to examine your knuckle, the skin had definitely been ripped and most of your hand by now had been covered in dried blood while your knuckle still oozed the dark red substance.

“I do use my brain thank you very much! Maybe a little too often.”

“Obviously not enough,” Yoongi replied, “Think smartass, who use to give you lollipops every time you cried when the stray cat would hiss at you.”

“Twix is not a stray cat you fiend!” You gaped in even bigger offense before it hit you like a train, your lips sudden parted and your pupils blew out as Yoongi groaned, leaning back in his seat, “Suga!? What the fuck?” Your mind could hardly reel at just who was standing in front of you, “I thought I fucking had a fever dream and just made you up out of my head! Where the fuck did you go!?”

Yoongi only straightened before sighing, grabbing a new alcohol wipe before wiping down the dried blood from your knuckle, “Shit happens Y/n, you know that just as well as me.”

Yoongi...or Suga, had been a childhood friend of yours.

But you were so young at the time you had nearly forgotten of his existence, in fact, you at one point had assumed maybe you just made him up in your head in an attempt to cope with the trauma.

He lived down the street and had found you crying on the sidewalk after one particularly bad fight between your parents that had you running from the house until you ended up tripping on the sidewalk, skinning your knee in the process. Yoongi at the time, was shorter than you by a few inches and all skin and bone, his now bleached hair had been a shiny midnight black that dusted over his eyes- that at one time weren’t so dead.

With a lollipop in mouth he had handed you a spare in his pocket, you had looked at him undoubtedly like a lost puppy while sniffling but took it with no questions asked, ‘You look like you could use it more then me’ that was all he said before continuing on his way.

You had after that become unofficial friends with him, the next time you had saw him after that was when you were sitting on the sidewalk with chalk in hand, the lollipop you had been saving plopped in your mouth when his shoes came into view.

‘Are you here to give me sugar again?’ Your words had been muffled though, the lollipop causing a huge dent in your mouth making the word sugar come out sounding like ‘Suga’, much like your short lived friendship with him, that had become his nickname which he never bothered correcting. He didn’t tell you his real name, simply going by the one you provided.

Your friendship with Yoongi couldn’t have lasted more than a month, but those days seemed better than most, the last time you saw him was when he had been struggling to climb the stairs of your front porch covered in blood.

You were too young at the time to ever ask why, simply crying out for your mom to come and help you get your friend into the house. He could barely walk and had large lashes going down his back, sweat made his hair cling to his forehead and his face covered in bruises and welts.

It was quiet in the room and Minho had long since left to rest in his room, leaving the table vacant outside of your harsh stares towards one another. You swallowed thickly, unable to truly wrap your head around this new information.

You couldn’t have been older than eight when you last saw him in such a torn, beaten up state, he had stayed the night at your house until your father had come home drunk and angry, your mother, panicked had ushered you both out the backdoor and told you to not go too far and wait awhile to come back.

Things were hazy after that memory, it had been well over ten years, surely this wasn’t a coincidence. You weren’t sure what to do until you finally swallowed one last time, “Show me.”

His pupils widening was enough of an answer, but you refused to believe it was genuinely Suga, the scrawny street kid that had helped you hunt down your once feral cat Twix, the kid who had traded lollipops for cigarettes, the kid who had brightened your dull, dark days even if it was just by making you smile from a candy bar.

You felt a whirlwind of emotions inside you, half you didn’t even understand yourself while the other part of you was null and void, while Suga was a short but sweet memory, it had also been years, years of cold reality that turned you from an innocent child to a cold adult, and clearly he had been through the same.

“You already know it’s me.” Yoongi’s glare cut out as he finally pressed down, maybe a little harsher than necessary on the open wounds of your knuckle making you choke out a whine in pain which caused him to ease is initial force.

You ripped your hand away from him though, your face as easily harsh as his as you snapped out, “I don’t fucking care show me! You can’t fucking tell me this is a coincidence that my lost childhood friend suddenly pops back into my life when all of this shit is going down- where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me when you saw me? Why did you ignore my question when I asked at the bar if we knew each other!? So yes! Sue me for wanting real fucking proof. Show. Me.”

Yoongi glowered as he snapped back, “You’re such a fucking impatient brat you know that Y/n?” But he didn’t argue further like you anticipated he only turned away with his back facing you as he let the jacket drop from his shoulders before pulling the white shirt from over his head.

He had hunched down dark and brooding, his athletic build was lean but muscle was still taunt beneath it’s skin.

It wasn’t his lilith muscles that had been undoubtedly used over the years that your eyes had focused on though. Your lips had quivered before parting at the lash marks scarring his back. When you were a kid, you assumed he must’ve thrown a cat over his shoulders. But your innocence had yet to been plucked from you back then unlike now.

Those weren’t cat scratches, they were whip marks.

Plenty of emotions had bubbled in your chest, fewer making their way inaudibly up to your throat leaving your parted lips soundless as you lifted a shaky hand. You could both feel and see him flinch under your gentle feathery brush over the lashes, some had faded, the more bloody ones you remembered had stayed seared into his skin, a permanent reminder of whatever he endured.

“Are you…?” Yoongi suddenly turned, surprise in his voice at the shaky sniffle that had erupted from your voice. Your face was an even sadder sight at the tremble of your lips and tears leaking from your watery eyes. You eyes held remorse but anger, long rooted bitterness ran through your veins.

“I fucking hate this world.” It was all you could manage out, your face twisting into righteous anger but the tears didn’t stop flowing down your face. You hated that people cruel enough existed to do this to him, you hated that people like your father existed, wallowing in nothing but their own misery, too blinded to see the damage they caused everyone else, the same people they birthed and swore to protect.

Maybe you were at a turning point in your life, you weren’t sure. But all you felt was anger and yet still, your vision was blurred. You were so angry you were crying, who in their right mind would whip a child? Beat an already broken woman? You had so many emotions running through your entire body, there was an immense pressure in your chest and your head was beginning to hurt at so many taxing emotions coursing through you.

You wholehearted hated this world.

Yoongi sighed, pulling his shirt back over his head to cover the taint of this world covering his skin, the turning point that undoubtedly changed his life. You never saw him again after that day, not until you were drunk with a billionaire while he stalked the alleyways with dead eyes.

Turning to face you his lips twitched, the expressionless face had for a second, almost cracked at the sight of the anger radiating from you, and yet all you could do was cry.

And out of everything Yoongi could’ve done, he did the least expected thing and wrapped an arm around you pulling you close, “I know.”

Groaning you emitted a sigh, well aware of the store clerk giving you the side eye at your run down drained appearance, both of the cashiers had made small talk which only fizzled into background noise as you scanned over the well stocked energy drink section. You felt like garbage, your body felt like garbage and you were near brain dead emotionally speaking.

Times like these called for appropriate measures, your mind needed the buzz of caffeine and the rush of the overly sweetened drink. If you could have it your way you’d easily eat another pack of ramen to go with it.

But right now you had a little over fifteen minutes before your shift at the psych ward would start, this drink- a Fruit Punch Rockstar, would hopefully pull you through the next grueling six hours of your shift.

Yawning you paid for your drink before walking down to the hospital’s mental institute wing before finally clocking in, the sweet punch flavor of your drink already putting some life back into your body as you stretched out grabbing your jumpsuit from the closet of the breakroom.

You certainly had a lot on your mind too say the least but what else could you do except just go with it? It seemed like that was all you could do anymore.

Hoseok had clocked in not too long after you and thus your night of work began with your regular routine of clearing out the rooms, luckily bathroom rotation wasn’t on you and Hoseok this week, granted getting stuck with the third floor, wasn’t that much better, but...okay you were wrong it was worse when the patients had an...accident, and then proceeded to smear it all over the walls.

You were practically gagging with a cough as you snapped on the sanitary gloves and medical mask to help with the stench, this was such a thankless job. Meanwhile you had confided in Hoseok about your revelation with Yoongi as he continued scrubbing down the wall, “So you actually know this guy?”

“Briefly…” You sighed, dipping the mop back in the bucket- Hoseok told you it was overkill and unnecessary for the wall but you downright refused to get as close as him, your stomach may not have been weak but you still wanted to keep the ramen you had ate hours before down, “Feels like a lifetime ago, I mean we were kids back then...I don’t really know how to feel anymore, my life’s become such a shit show I guess I should’ve anticipated something like this happening…”

Hoseok only shook his head, the dark brown hair brushing just at his eyebrows shaking as he hummed in thought, “Well it’s unexpected i’ll say that much. But maybe he can shed light on what’s going on.”

“Already tried, him and the other guy are working under Jungkook- who...I guess gave them orders to protect me…? Or something like that, I don’t know. Anyways Yoongi told me Jungkook wants me to hear everything from him so….” You shrugged before going back to wiping up the wall, most of the feces had been cleaned and you and Hoseok had opened up the windows in the room to get some ventilation going, even the smell wasn’t as strong anymore.

“I still don’t like it,” Hoseok frowned, typical of him to keep his standing view but you knew it only came from rationality, he just didn’t want you to get hurt, both by the unknown which you were faced with or by the men you had become invested in without realizing it, “But you’re gonna ignore me anyways, aren’t you?”

You finally set down the mop back down in the cart as Hoseok finished up tidying the room, plucking your drink from the cart as you gave it a long chug, “While I wish I could just ignore this and let it disappear off the face of the planet, you and I both know I can’t. This seems serious, and you are right, this is beyond us but that’s the point. If I really am somehow tangled up in this, I have to do something.”

Hoseok finally sighed in defeat, both know you wouldn't listen, and that ultimately you were right, you had to at least know what was going on at this point. And all of your questions pointed to Jungkook, “Just be careful,” you both exited the room while pushing the cart, you had just finished your last stretch of the third floor and only had to clean the first before you’d call it a day. Heading towards the elevator Hoseok continued, “So when do you plan on talking to him?”

You shrugged as you gave it some thought, the idea had been plaguing the back of your mind, that was the real question, you had already told yourself this was what you were doing. But actually doing it, actually facing Jungkook after what had taken place, it wouldn’t be easy.

“I don’t know, I still feel like I need time to process everything, but I don’t really know if I can afford to do that. Seokjin made it feel imperative that I talk to him as soon as possible...I just don’t know if I can face him yet…”

You sighed while pinching the bridge of your nose. You could just imagine those large doe eyes pleading at you, acting as if he hadn’t killed someone, as if he hadn’t killed many. You weren’t sure you could face that yet, you genuinely weren’t sure if you could face that moral dilemma of whether to forgive him or not.

Hoseok sent a look of sympathy your way as he gave your shoulder a squeeze, “I’m sure you’ll know when the time is right.” The doors slid open to the first floor as you both walked out. Sighing you nodded silently as you plucked your can up, drinking the last of its contents as Hoseok knocked on the first door only to find it was still in use. The first floor was the most active and was going to be the hardest to clean with everyone constantly using the rooms, it was a pain in the ass but it was at the very least, doable.

You both continued your journey for a vacant room until you paused at the sound of a voice, that voice, “I don’t care what it takes, keep his room on high profile until we get him to speak, nobody goes in, nobody goes out, clear?”

The half empty Rockstar in your hand was almost crushed by your grip as your eyes met with Jungkook, who for whatever god forsaken reason he was here, just ended his short, snippy phone call. Whatever irritation he held on his face had melted away though, at the sight of you.

You both stood there for a little over five seconds, as if just as shocked to see the other before he quickly reacted as his eyes honed in on your rough appearance, “Y/n.”

“Oh my god.” You sighed, turning to face away from him as you ran a hand through your hair, what had you done in this life to deserve this treatment? All you wanted was just a few more days to come to terms with what had happened? Why couldn’t you be granted, at least that?

“Y/n please, I know you don’t want to see me but can we just talk for a moment?” Jungkook’s voice called out quickly coming closer and just as you anticipated his tone was near pleading.

Why did you have to run into him here? Of all places? What was he even doing here? He had no business in a psych ward.

“She doesn’t wanna see you, buddy.” Hoseok had practically jumped to your defense making you turn back around to see him standing in front of Jungkook, close to the same height but that didn’t make Jungkook’s cold icy glare any less daunting.

“Stay out of this,” Jungkook’s voice came out commanding sending a chill down your spine, his tone was so foreign and demanding as he continued with a bite, “And let me see her.”

Hoseok’s glare, wasn’t all too pleasant either as he almost growled at such a pompous kid really getting you involved in his messy shit. Before your friend could retort anything he’d later regret you sighed grabbing his arm.

“Hoseok, it’s fine.” You frowned, as he sent a glare also your way, one more in warning for you to not push yourself into doing this. But what choice did you have? He was here right now, he wanted to talk, and who knew? Maybe this would be your only chance at getting him to just tell you the truth.

He huffed but stepped aside, “Don’t be too long.”

And with one last withering glare towards Jungkook, who gladly returned it he went back to the cart. And there alone you stood in front of the tall figure of one of the world’s youngest billionaires and murderer, Jeon Jungkook.

Note: Hey loves! It’s so good to be back and thank you guys for being so patient with me! I just wanted to let you guys know that I will be posting again I just won’t be sticking to a rigid schedule so expect an update once every other week ish? Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed! Lots revealed this chapter....

Taglist: @sapphireprinces5 @jazzytfw @theslumberingcat @mrsfandomz @cainami @nininek12 @loveherpersona @expensive-bangtan-girl @yoongnysus @sugajinny @peachy-bhun @brokencrownqueen

(Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

#bts #jungkook #jimin #jeon jungkook #park jimin #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jimin x reader smut #bts au #bts ceo au

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